"How many did you say?"

Another voice, higher in pitch than the first- a female's- answered. "Seven, sir. Seven bullets."

A groan of despair came from the first speaker as he ran his hand through his black hair in frustration. "I can't believe this happened- especially to one of my best lieutenants."

"At least she survived. I can't begin to imagine ho-"

A knock at the door interrupted her. It opened slightly, and one of the many soldiers stationed at the hospital stepped into the room. "Führer Bradley here to see the patient, sir," he said, saluting the both of them.

The woman was the first to speak. "The Führer doesn't usually come to visit injured soldiers, does he?"

"No," he replied, watching the soldier's retreating back. "For some reason, she must be an exception."

The door swung open again, and a second later, the Führer- tall, dark-haired, and with a black patch over his right eye- stepped into the room. "Ah, Colonel Mustang, Lieutenant Hawkeye. How is our patient faring?"

"I'd say quite well, sir, considering her condition," answered Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. "The injuries are healing fine, but she's still in a coma. The doctors believe she may have hit her head, and don't know when she'll wake, if at all. It could be years."

"Good, good," he said breezily. "I'm sure she'll wake before long. I have work that needs to be done, but send someone to see me if there's anything new."

"Yes, sir," said Lieutenant Hawkeye, answering again for the colonel.

The Führer turned to leave, but stopped, his hand resting on the door handle. "Oh, and Colonel Mustang, I want a full report on your portion of the battle by noon tomorrow. Good day to you both."

Once the door had clicked shut behind him, Lieutenant Hawkeye turned to Mustang. "And now, sir?"

Mustang looked over at the still form on the hospital bed, then at his lieutenant. "And now we wait," he said, his voice soft, like a sigh. "Until Führer Bradley gives me other orders. But personally, I don't know what we're waiting for. He seems to be chasing after a hopeless dream..."

Four years later

My limbs felt so heavy. I struggled to move them, or at least to open my mouth to call for help, but I couldn't do either. A crushing weight was slowly pressing down on my lungs as the blackness pressed ever further into the deepest recesses of my mind. The silent struggle carried on for several minutes until I thought I could bear it no more.

And then, it was as if I was a puppet and someone had suddenly cut the strings- I was suddenly free of whatever had bound me motionless and mute, free to move as I had once done. My joy was short-lived, however, because before long I found myself in the oppressing shadow of a tall black door. I stared curiously at the abnormality in the otherwise soft white that surrounded me on every side. It was many stories tall, dwarfing me in comparison, and round along the top like a long, stretched out parabola. Except for the odd carvings scratched into the dark wood that I could barely make out, it reminded me of a huge gate reminiscent of those found in castle walls.

A creaking noise sounded upon my ears as the door slowly began to open. As I watched the darkness pouring from the inside continue to grow, I was suddenly filled with an irrational fear of whatever it was that lay beyond. And just like a frightened child, I turned and began to run.

But it was no use. The gatelike door seemed to grow in size no matter how far I ran, no matter how fast- it was always there, looming over me, pouring its black miasma over me like a cloak. Black hands, snaking through the open doors, reaching for me. I made the mistake of looking back, and tripped and fell sprawling on the ground. And then they were upon me.

Clammy fingers gripped at my skin, dragging me backwards through the doors that were wide open now, as if in an eerie, unwelcome greeting. The horrid black things were everywhere, pulling at my hands, my face, my legs, my waist, my hair- there was no escaping them. I was inside now, watching in horror as those dark doors began to close, shutting out whatever white light was left.

And then they stopped. I looked up to see a pair of hands- human, it seemed, not one of the black ones that still held me in their grasp- wrapped around the edge of both doors, preventing them from closing any further. With what seemed like impossible strength, they wrenched both doors wide open.

A dark haired woman stood there; I couldn't see her face. But she held out a hand to me, her voice soft and reassuring as she said "Come with me."

I found that the black hands had released their hold on one my arms, and without a second thought I took her proffered hand. A second, and then I had been freed and the only remainder of what had just occurred was the tall black gatelike door slowly closing behind me.

My curiosity got the best of me as I glanced the woman who had saved me from something that seemed quite terrible (though I had no idea what it might have been). "Who are you?"

"That's not important," she gave as an answer. "It's all been prepared, don't worry."

"What's been prepared? Can't I be on a need-to-know basis or something? I mean, I don't even know where I am!"

"You don't need to know anything," she replied quite unhelpfully just as another figure materialized in this shapeless white landscape. As they walked slowly closer to us, I hoped that perhaps here was someone that might give me some answers. But I wasn't ready for the shock that awaited me as they came to a stop in front of us, smirking at my reaction. I found I was staring at...

Myself.

I was starting to panic now. "Okay, seriously, what the heck is going on? Who is that, and why do they look like me?"

"Because they are." the woman said with a smile that wasn't in the least bit comforting. "At least after right now." She clapped her hands together and placed one on each of our- or should I say my?- foreheads. I felt a burning pain on my hip, there was a flash of brilliant blue light, and then I knew I was no longer myself. The feeling of flying through the air as free as before slipped through me, but it was gone just as quickly as it came as I was slammed into a body that both was, and wasn't, my own.