(The first half of this is just a little thing I thought up. Its not in any way essential to the progression of the book itself. You may skip it if you wish.)

--Unknown P.O.V--

Calm.

She had to look calm. Nonchalant.

Appearing calm was more difficult than it had any right to be that day, it seemed. Her heart was pounding, and her grip on the case she carried was slick from sweat.

Calm.

Anticipation coursed through her veins as she entered one of the taller hotels that faced the Central Parade Grounds, and booked a room 'with a view'.

She got what she wished for, a room facing the grounds and on the second to the top floor. Closing and locking the door, she barely spared a glance to her surroundings. Immediately, she crossed over to the window, pulled back the blinds, and peered out.

Nodding, she let the blinds fall back into place as she sat down at the small writing desk that had been placed near the window, and set down the case with a light thud.

Opening it, she gazed upon what it contained; one, currently disassembled, military grade sniper rifle, complete with a sound suppressor.

Today was the day she avenged her brother.

Alec McHyver had been arrested by the Fullmetal Alchemist, and later sentenced to be executed by Führer Bradley himself for several accounts of breaking and entering, child molestation, and armed robbery.

While the Führer was now dead, which in itself brought great satisfaction to her, the one truly responsible for her brother's death remained alive.

But not for long.

Today was the day she avenged him, and even if she herself were caught and therefore executed...Well, it would be worth it.

For even the wrongs her brother had committed could not shake her view that her brother was innocent.

Three hours she waited, constantly pacing, glancing out the window, ready; her heart racing.

Three hours.

Then, as the new Führer, Roy Mustang, and his right hand man, Edward Elric, reached the small podium where they would deliver the customary, three minute long speech before the festivities truly began, she opened the window.

Assembled the rifle with practised ease to the sound of Roy Mustang's voice droning on faintly in the background.

Got into position.

Aimed.

And fired.

Edward Elric died with a look of utter surprise on his face, standing protectively in front of the Führer, as if to ward off another shot even as he died.

She was later arrested, and executed by the burning flames of the Führer himself.

And if anyone saw the single tear that ran down Roy's face at the loss of another friend that would later turn into a torrent of them once he was alone, no one dared to mention it.
--End--

Edward woke, not exactly sure when he had even fallen asleep, but more than willing to embrace the warmth, the pure contentment, that he was feeling in that moment. This was the first night in a long while where he woke up, not from a nightmare, but a rather pleasant dream.

He had dreamt of a night long ago, when his mother lived and his father hummed songs from a long forgotten language.

It had been winter, if he remembered correctly, and he was curled up next to his mom on the couch, watching sleepily as she read to him from an old fairy tale book they had found in the market.

Alphonse, not yet two, had already gone to bed, and his father had retired to sleep as well.

Ed had adamantly refused to go to bed until he got some alone time with his mom, and he could pretend as though he was the only child once again. Having a sibling was exhausting. This was from his past life, when he could speak, and he did so then. "Hey, mom?" He mumbled, half asleep.

"Yes, Ed?" Her voice was patient, wonderfully so, caring, and utterly loving.

But Ed had already fallen asleep, warm and safe, curled up next to her, his breathing slowing and falling into a gentle rhythm.

A smile lifted the corners of Trisha's lips.

She let her son sleep soundly next to her for almost a half an hour before gently, as to not wake him, scooping him into her arms and carrying him into his and Al's room.

--

Ed opened his eyes, the world coming into it's usual gray, blurry focus around him.

"About time you woke up, Edward. Was getting worried." Ed paused, looking over to where he had heard the voice. Mustang?

It was, indeed, Mustang, who appeared to be reading through some files. He sat up, just barely able to hide a wince as his stiff muscles protested the movement.

He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and placed them on his face. The world now more in focus, he once again looked at Mustang, and pointed to the files they held, head cocked to the side.

'What are those?' Was what the look basically said, and Mustang took little time at all to inform him.

"They're the criminal records of one Alec McHyver." He held up a picture, and there, right there, was a clear image of the man whom had done the unforgivable to him.

Who stalked his dreams and his every second around his commanding officer.

--898 Words--

Shorter than usual, but I wanted to post this before Christmas was over, which is in six minutes. Merry Christmas to all of you! ~The_Sin_Pride