A FMA, CSI Miami Crossover
What IF, the Rocket, Edward, Alphonse and Deitlinde were on Arrived in sunny Miami in the 20th century?
Fic type: Crossover, Mystery, Adventure
Warnings: SPOILERS for FMA, and CSI Miami. Implied Slash, and het.
Pairings: I don't plan them, but the characters write themselves, Ed/Hie past implied, if you read into things, kind of Elricesty, if you don't not Elricesty. Characters: The Elric Brothers, Deitlinde Ekhart, and possible others and most of the CSI Miami cast with a smattering of Vegas.
Summery: The CSIs are still trying to piece things together and Al finds himself in a strange new world.
“So what do we have here, Alexx?” Horatio Caine asked, gaze scanning
the MRIs and X-rays tacked up on the light box in the morgue. He
turned around, gaze shifting to the body laid out on the autopsy table
and Alexx Woods. Both night and day shifts were working full time on
the Federal case. Within 48 hours they'd managed to autopsy 12 corpses
and send samples out to toxicology, DNA, printing, trace and documents.
The ME slowly replaced her latex gloves with a new set and dropped the
used pair into a biohazard bin before she crossed over to the CSI’s
side. According to her logs, the doctor arrived early that morning to
begin posts and had been working seven hours straight. Yet somehow,
she managed to give Horatio a weak smile. “Nothing but questions on my
part.” She said, glancing at one of the armored forms being checked in
and processed by two members of her staff. “This is a weird one,
Horatio. I’m stumped. None of it makes sense to me. We’ve done 9 posts
on our armored friends, and got nothing but questions.”
“So I hear. How about our fishermen?” Horatio said, looking at the
body at the table. He could see the stitched Y incision on the upper
torso, and the scorched features of a man caught in an explosion. The
body was dismembered, missing both legs and a hand.
“COD is blunt force trauma to the head.” She explained. She looked
back to the corpse, face filling with compassion. “He also suffered
from visceral concussion, dismemberment, as well as third degree
burns. I suspect he was on deck when it happened, like his
colleagues.” She walked over to drawers at the other end of the room,
and pulled one open. She pulled down the sheet covering the remains.
Horatio followed. Working the bomb squad, he'd seen his share of
explosion victims. Injuries varied, from impact injuries, lacerations,
to burns. Many times the concussion of a blast caused visceral damage
and dismemberment. What he was seeing now was no different. The rocket
collided with a fishing boat, it ignited on impact, exploding, killing
almost everyone on board both vessels.
What puzzled him more was how ANYONE survived it.
The second victim was dismembered. What was left were the charred
remains of a lower torso and a half a leg. “Dismemberment and
exsanguination was COD. I suspect we were lucky to find anything
really. I’m still working on an ID for this poor fellow. He has a
metal plate in his hip, I scanned the serial numbers, they should come
up with something.” She closed the drawer, turning to Horatio. “Our
other boy drowned.” Alexx gestured to a third body lying on a second
examination table. It was scorched like the others and missing its
left arm at the elbow. “He was on fire when he was blown into the
water and unable to keep himself up. Drowned before his impact
injuries could take him. These poor guys didn’t stand a chance.”
“All right, pretty much what we both expected. So what’s the problem
Horatio watched the coroner open another drawer. She eased a sheet
down around the body of a mangled young man. His face was scorched,
with bubbles and blackened flesh. “This poor kid was dead long before
he was cooked in his tin can.” Alexx said firmly. “We’ve got 26
bodies, all of them crushed to death, all of them having lividity on
their feet and lower extremities, and all of them dead hours before
the actual collision. And that’s only to start.” Alexx informed.
“Every bone in his body was crushed and his organs were liquefied as
if he were placed under pressures equaling what one would encounter
deep under the water, I’d say about three miles down. But… we’ve got a
rocket, not a submarine. As for the armor, it protected these guys
from lacerations and dismemberment, but as you can tell, it also acted
like a oven, keeping in the heat and cooking the corpses in their own
“Indeed I can.” Horatio said, voice hinting at his puzzled surprise.
He studied the corpse, keeping his expression straight. He had seen
liquid viscera before in explosion victims but never to this extent.
Planting his palms on his hips, he looped his fingers in his belt
buckle. “It is an interesting puzzle isn’t it? Not all the bodies were
burned, were they, Alexx?”
“No. Out of the nine we’ve done, four have no burns.” Alexx explained.
“My first post, he was found on the sandbar, with the boy. He had no
burns, body temperature on site placed his time of death three hours
before the crash. I was able to confirm that with several other
corpses. Further more, ten of my corpses were shot, post mortem. So
far, I can’t come up with any reasonable reasons to why, but I assume
that will be up to your team.” Alexx paused, opening up yet another
drawer and removing the sheet to reveal mangled features of a human
face. She met his gaze with a hint of fear. “What do you make of that?”
The face was cratered with a pattern of circular marks. Marks Caine
had seen during one of the many bio-warfare debriefings. “Smallpox.
Very interesting. The last reported case of smallpox was thirty years
ago, wasn’t it?”
Alexx touched the scarred face gently. “Longer ago than this poor baby
could have been alive. And the scarring looks like he had it in his
teens. It just doesn’t make sense, Horatio.”
He could see Alexx – trained, hardened ME that she was – was confused,
even scared, by what she was seeing. Horatio wasn’t exactly scared,
but he didn’t like what he saw one little bit. An extinct disease,
Nazi symbology, and the rocket itself made a nightmarish,
science-fictional puzzle – impossible, yet the evidence said
otherwise. “It has to make sense, Alexx. We just aren’t looking at it
the right way.” Caine said finally, knowing she was waiting for
something – maybe just the certain, calm tone of his voice. “It’s
solid and it’s real. If we follow all the evidence, we’ll make sense
out of it.” He could see her nod, slowly, still uncertain. “Listen to
me, Alexx. I want you to just tell me what you find. Don’t try to
explain it; you let me worry about that, okay?”
“All right, Horatio.” After sealing the drawer closed, Alexx led
Horatio over to the light board and the X-Rays. “Which brings us to
our two survivors.” She pointed to the first X-ray. It was of the
eldest boy’s skull. “Edward suffered from a cranial impact injury, and
burns. He has a severe concussion with cranial swelling. His left leg
is broken and also has four broken ribs. He also suffered from various
lacerations and heavy abrasions. ” As she spoke she indicated to three
other x-rays as she spoke and glanced to Horatio when she finished.
“All of his injuries indicate he was likely in our plane during impact
and somehow escaped during the explosion. He’s a regular superman if
you ask me.” She flickered a faint smile. “And I suspect it runs in
the family. Which brings us to his brother…”
“The young man you paid a visit to yesterday.” Horatio added meeting
her gaze. He had been concerned about the child as well. The
unusualness of this case had drawn the attention of certain government
offices, and hard questions were being asked about their role in the
rocket’s collision and the brother’s unusual prosthetics.
Alexx looked down, her gaze troubled for an instant. “Yes, Alphonse.
Like Edward, he’s suffering from several impact injuries. He has small
burns all over his body. According to Doctor Sullivan’s report, they
resemble acid burns.” She turned her attention to an MRI of the
youngster’s lower body. “His lower body suffered breaks in the pelvis,
hip and right leg.” She removed a picture from a folder and handed it
It was of the boy before his injuries were wrapped. The bruising on
his mid and lower torso showed a patch-like pattern of irregular
plates. There were also ligature marks on the boy’s waist and lower
“The bruising on his torso, internal injuries as well as the nature of
his breaks tell me someone used this baby to break their fall. Someone
in armor.” Disgust filled Alexx’s voice and she tapped the bruise
patterns. “From the shape of these bruises the armor was a lot smaller
than the ones we’ve seen.”
Horatio studied the photo, making careful note of the bruises on the
boy’s body. “Alexx, if this person was facing forward and using Al to
cushion their impact, were they armored enough to walk away from the
“It’s possible.” Alexx replied. She shook her head, tight black hair
bobbing in its ponytail. “But it would have still hurt. And in armor,
in the water…” she trailed off.
Horatio nodded. “But the bruising doesn’t fit any of the
armor we’ve found, does it? So either the wearer managed to dump it –
somewhere we haven’t looked yet, which is hard to believe – or else
they managed to make it to shore with the armor still on, which is
even harder to believe.”
“It seems this case is about the impossible. I can’t imagine using a
child to break my fall. Whoever they are, they have few, if any
morals.” The woman rubbed her arms, and returned her attentions to the
radiology films. She pointed to one set of MRIs. “Something else,
Horatio. These boys lived hard lives. Both their bodies are unusually
developed, and they had previously healed breaks, injuries I’ve seen
with martial artists and trained soldiers. Edward especially, even
with his prosthetics. By the wounds on his hands and arms, I believe
Alphonse was fighting the very person who used him to absorb their
Horatio studied the images silently for a while. “No MRIs for our
friend Edward, are there?”
“No, Horatio. Those prosthetics may come off, but … they’re connected
to metal implants that were surgically placed. Put him in an MRI unit,
he’d come apart. They did a regular CT scan, but the implants messed
up a lot of that too.”
“So what we have here are a bunch of dead bodies who were killed hours
before the rocket crashed, two boys barely alive who seem to have been
raised as elementary school special forces… and someone else who was
willing to use the younger one as an airbag.” Caine gritted his teeth.
Nothing he hated more than people who took advantage of children.
“Alexx, I’m going to have them check the hospitals and witnesses
around the nearer beach areas for someone seen emerging from the
water. I don’t know how someone could possibly have managed to survive
that and get away without us seeing them… but when I find them,” he
turned to go, “They’re going to wish they went down with their ship.”
The gate, with its great black doors, yawned open before him.
He could hear the anguished cries of the damned souls withering in its
frame. It was watching. It was waiting… Waiting for him.
With a whimper, Alphonse Elric stirred in his sleep. He could
feel it, hovering over him like a dark veil. It was cold, and
terrifying as it glared down at the boy with hundreds of unblinking eyes.
“I thought I’d bring back these MRIs, Doctor Sullivan. I’m sorry I
couldn’t bring back the originals but we need them as evidence.”
Voices blurred around him, whispering unintelligible words as the
world passed by in darkness. Alphonse Elric lay motionless. His mind
drifted, groping for anything tangible to cling to, seeking life where
even the words around him seemed alien. Anyplace was better than the
dark, with IT.
“That’s quite all right, Doctor Woods. These should be fine. Thank you.”
Lost, Alphonse searched, looking for familiar sounds. The one voice,
it had been kind to him with its gentle warm tones and caresses.
“I also wanted to give you this. I understand one of the boys needs a
pediatric orthopedist. Todd Woods is an excellent surgeon and an
expert in pediatric bone growth. He’s done many hip and pelvic
transplants, and he’s willing to work with social services.”
“Todd Woods? He’s your husband, isn’t he?”
But it descended, black veil steeling over his battered young mind,
great doors widening until his tiny form was engulfed by its towering
shadow. Struggling, Alphonse found the voices around him fading. He
was alone, in endless darkness, with the staring eyes. The Gate. He
remembered it well. It was the only memory of the years he had lost.
He remembered very clearly. Standing before it, waiting, starving,
fearing, knowing that death loomed over him, and all he needed to do
was give up, and it would consume him. Horrified, the boy cried out,
body thrashing in the bed.
A blackened monstrosity loomed before him, her twisted features bitter
with anger and hatred. The fragmented memory stabbed down at him,
shouting rage filled words. Tendrils whipped out at his small nimble
body as he ducked, dodged and flipped out of reach in the tight
confines of the rapidly descending air machine. Brother was struggling
with the controls, trying to guide its floundering bulk before it
crashed into the seas below.
Yet the monster before him seemed oblivious to the apparent danger, in
fact, she hungered for it. “You little brat! How dare you! I’ll feast
on your soul for your interference!”
“You don’t need to do this!” Alphonse cried out, struggling to gain
his footing. He was dangerously close to the bulkhead and rapidly
running out of escape routes. He flipped to the side and scrabbled
frantically on the tilting floor as she rushed at him. Why, why, was
she still fighting? They had defeated her invasion, and were sending
her back home, away from the world she feared and hated.
With a curse and gritted teeth, the boy barely warded off the
creature's blows, but was short enough duck under her attacks and
strike her multiple times with his fists. It was enough to drive her
back a step, giving him room to leap and bring his leg around.
A thundering roar deafened him as the floor beneath seemed to
vanish, and in mid-kick, his small human body slammed mercilessly into
the wall. He head a crunch from his leg, and pain exploded dots of
white and red before his eyes.
She was upon him in an instant, the oozing blackness hammering him
with piercing tendrils, that burned and stabbed his fragile form.
Alphonse Elric held in a cry of terror, the woman’s face before him
distorted, a manic grin splitting her features with mocking laugher
and piercing blue eyes. Eyes that opened up all over her body.
He was dying.
The memory twisted and contorted into a flood of images. He was a
child again facing the whirling blackness of the gate. Gibbering,
thousands of little voices whispered in the blackness, eagerly waiting
for him. It prodded, hundreds of slithering fingers tentatively
piercing his flesh, his mouth, his eyes, his nose, his heart, hungrily
sinking deep within his young body, crawling, feeding, squirming,
withering… It burned away his life with its acidic touch, reshaping it
to its will, for flesh was clay to it; something to mold in its own image.
Alphonse Elric screamed, reaching up helplessly in the blackness.
In the swirling kaleidoscope of red ebony, he just made out the broken
form his brother, reaching for him, tears streaming down his pale
angry face. “Brother!” He stretched, agony whipping though his body,
as it dissolved around him. His fingers just brushed against his
A warmth blossomed in his hand as something closed about his palm and
held it tight. The dream fragmented into an explosion of blinding
white lights and the rumble of blips and shouts. “It’s all right,
baby, it’s all right… You're safe…”
The boy’s heart thudded against his chest as he blinked away sand and
squinted in the bright light. He was lying in bed with a woman
leaning over him, one hand closed tightly about his while the other
stroked his hair, brushing bangs from his battered face.
Wisps of fear grappled his thumping chest, and he struggled to steady
his breath to calm his body. It was only a dream, he told himself, yet
a part of him was aware... bits of memory floated about in his mind,
the gate, the black void, Deitlinde, and the eyes. They hovered in the
distance, hints of a tragic past he could scarcely recall. Slowly, his
breathing settled and he became aware he was gripping the woman’s hand
tightly, and afraid to let it go.
Letting go would drag him back into the darkness, where dreams and
memories mingled into nightmarish horrors.
His head settled back against the pillow, and he became aware of the
pain throbbing though his body. Everywhere hurt, yet it was a
dull, distant pain and he felt oddly detached and light headed.
Straining, he glimpsed his legs, one was hanging from a swing and
pulley contraption over his bed, while the other lay motionless on the
mattress. Under the sheets he could make out an odd contraption around
his waist, that seemed connected to his hips. It was then he became aware
of the lack of pain in his lower limbs. In fact there was a strange
sensation, an odd numb feeling that settled in his lower waist. It told
him something should be there, even if he couldn’t move or feel his toes
or legs. Alarm swept the boy and he shifted his gaze to the woman, then
around the room, afraid she’s notice he was frightened and worried.
Instead, he made an effort to occupy himself with the room around him.
The room he was in was strange, and at first glance he thought it was
a hospital, with its sterile room, and white smocked staff, but there
were strange devices. Boxes with glowing numbers that flashed and
blipped and one that scrolled a continual neon green line on a black
screen with a heart that blinked. They were like nothing he had ever
seen before. Even the ceiling was strange. It was transparent, like
glass and housed a long intense light that made him squint when he
looked up. Was it electricity? He didn’t see any gaslight lamps
anywhere, nor did he see any candles. And the doors at the end of the
room were glass and opened. The walls were painted peach, and a single
painting hung across the room over a white cabinet near the door.
Nothing was familiar, even the people who spoke to him didn’t sound
right. He knew the language from Central city, yet something about its
accent was different and difficult to understand. Trying to focus,
Alphonse Elric squinted, aware that the expression of the woman before
him was worried. “Brother? Where is my brother?”
It was hard to talk, his mouth was dry, and his voice cracked
painfully. He could hear how strongly accented his voice was when
he formed very careful words in English. To his satisfaction, they
seemed to understand.
“Your brother?” The woman said, relieved. “Honey, he’s in the room
across the hall. Don’t you worry, he’ll be fine, and you're safe
here.” She looked over her shoulder to a man, who stood behind her. He
was tall, with graying hair, and wore a shirt, tie and slacks under a
white jacket. “Might be good to have the two of them share a room.”
He had to concentrate to understand her but she spoke gently, and
clearly. His brother was near, and they were safe. Her other words
were a blur, but he didn’t care as long as Brother was near he was
happy. He gave a weak nod.
“Do you know where you are, son?” The man asked. Behind him a nurse
entered, and placed a pitcher and cup on the tray next to his bed.
Al shook his head slightly. The more he listened the easier it was to
comprehend their words. He had no idea where he was, only that he was
in a place where there were machines like nothing he had ever seen.
Brother mentioned the machines in the other world, but Al never
thought they’d be so alien. “You’re a doctor?”
“Yes, that’s Dr. Sullivan, I’m Dr. Woods.” The woman said,
reaching over and pouring a cup of water. “Can you tell us your name?”
“Alphonse Elric.” The boy blinked as doctor Woods lifted his head and
pressed the cup to his lips. It wasn’t glass or ceramic. It was
polymer of some sort, and was soft, light and thin. He took a tiny
sip, grateful for the cold wet moisture against his lips. “Is brother
ok?” Again, he spoke slowly, trying to focus his thoughts.
Doctor Woods eased him back to his pillow and pulled his blankets to
his chest. She was a pretty dark skinned woman, with very long
straight black hair that curled down and around her shoulders. She was
dressed in a tan business suit, and a shiny white top that hugged
her slender frame. Her voice was familiar. It was strong, yet very
gentle and made him think of his own mother. “He’s hurt. Honey, do you
recall what happened?”
Alphonse winced. He recalled hiding in the flying machine, and waiting
until he heard Dietlinde. He quickly came out of hiding, just in time
to see her attack his brother. He vaguely recalled trying to stop her,
but the rest was foggy save for what he saw in the dream. “How hurt?
Did the rocket land?” His eyelids dropped as he settled back into his
pillows. The very fact he was fighting Dietlinde told him his injuries
could have come from that, rather than the rocket crashing, but part
of him knew otherwise. Still, it was better to act on the side of
caution until he saw brother. He had no idea how much these people
knew, and from his experience with the Nazis, he knew the
technological world reacted badly to the powers of the alchemical
world. So, he’d exaggerate his amnesia for now.
Both doctors gave him grave looks. “I think it is too soon to discuss
this.” Doctor Sullivan said glancing to the other doctor. “It’s ok,
son. Your brother has a concussion. I want you to focus on yourself
though. You don’t need to worry about him right now.” He fingered a
large folder in his hands.
Al swallowed. The doctor’s words told him his brother was not well.
Instinctively his hand closed about the woman’s fingers. He fought so
hard to find Edward, and to lose him was unbearable.
“Oh dear, honey. Your brother is a fighter, just like you are. He’ll
be just fine, you’ll see.” Doctor Woods squeezed his hand. Her dark
eyes filled with sympathy. “As long as you’re here, he’ll be here.”
Somehow, the woman deduced his bond with Edward. Alphonse breathed
in, breath trembling as his eyes filled with tears. If brother was
sick, and he was laid up, what could he do? The boy felt a wash of
helplessness. He was in a world he knew nothing about. According to
brother, Alchemy didn’t work, and his body was a wreck. “How can I
take care of him when I can’t feel my legs?”
Doctor’s Sullivan’s features looked hopeful. “That will heal in time,
Alphonse. You’ve got swelling in your lower spine. With luck and time
you should start to get feeling again.”
“But will I walk?” Al asked, studying both faces. His voice was firm,
and unusually grown up, like a boy who knew the world and understood
how cruel it could be. They were already attempting to hide the
severity of Edward’s condition from him. What of his own? And did they
have something like automail just in case he was crippled?
“Al, you strike me as the sort who likes to have the truth, even if it
is scary, right?” Doctor Woods asked, meeting his gaze. There was no
fooling her, Al thought. The woman was sharp as well as kind.
“That’s right.” He said. “I’ve seen a lot, so there isn’t much you
can say that I can’t deal with, ok?”
Skeptical, Doctor Sullivan placed on a pair of spectacles, and lifted
a folder from a box hanging next to the door. “I’m afraid it will be
some time before you can walk again.” He said softly scanning
the chart. “If the swelling subsides, you could still be suffering
from neurological damage. You’ll need pelvic surgery and hip
replacement as well as pins set in your leg. To be honest Al, you’ll
be lucky if you can walk again. I’m surprised you’re even alive now.”
He asked for the truth. Al looked down, large eyes watering. He wasn’t
going to cry, not over this, he was a big boy now, capable of living
on his own. And even if he didn’t really remember 4 years of his life,
he knew even though his body looked young, he was really as grown up
as his brother was. Besides. Edward walked again, and early too. “But
if you replace my hip and bones, I’ll be fine right? Even if it takes
a while I’ll be able to walk, I mean, they don’t replace bones in
people who won’t walk again…”
He must have sounded very naïve. Doctor Woods looked at him sad, and
Doctor Sullivan just rubbed his chin thoughtful. “I can’t tell you
anything definite until the swelling goes down, Alphonse.”
Doctor Woods patted his hand. “Determination is good Al, with it,
you’ll get better. The doctors here will fix you and your brother
right up the best they can, I promise.” Doctor Woods stroked his hair,
smiling warmly. Her confidence made him feel a little better.
Alphonse rolled his head against the fingers, soaking up the warmth he
had not felt since his teacher, Izumi Curtis died. Silently he sat
there wondering how long it would be until he fully recovered and if
his brother would at all be well enough when all was said and done.
“Can you tell us where your parents are, so we can tell them where you
are?” By the tone of her voice, Al suspected doctor Woods knew his
“They’re dead.” He replied simply. “You can’t contact them. I’m sorry.
Brother and I have been on our own for a long time now. All I have is
Doctor Woods shared a glance with her colleague. “Is there anyone we
“No.” There wasn’t much he could say. He couldn’t tell her his friends
existed someplace else and that his father died in the mouth of a
homunculus. The boy stared at her, feeling very lost. “Just Brother.”
“Well, Alphonse, we’ll just have to work with that. I’ll do what I can
to help, ok?” She gave Alphonse’s fingers a gentle pat, and slowly
released his hand. “But I’m going to have to leave, ok? I need to make
a few calls.”
She was going to leave? Anxiety filled Alphonse as he just stared at
the woman. He couldn’t explain why, but he didn’t want Dr. Woods to
leave. Wide eyed, he reached for her hand again. “Don’t go, please.”
Dr. Woods paused, looking at her watch with a flicker of
worry crossing her brow. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I can’t stay. I’m not
even supposed to be here really.” She took his hand, and held it
tight. “You need to trust Dr. Sullivan and his staff. They’re good
people and know what they are doing.”
“But you’re a doctor too, I thought…” He wrinkled his brow, not
wanting to let go of her voice. She was the one who had spoken to him.
He looked down, trying to piece together his feelings. He didn’t know
how long he was sleeping, but he did know his dreams had been bad.
Very bad. They terrified him, and a part of him was afraid that if he
slept, he’d die. Dr. Woods' voice was enough to keep him fighting.
“You spoke to me, when I couldn’t wake up. I heard you. It helped me
“You woke up because you were a strong boy, Al.” Dr. Woods soothed.
“And I’m glad I helped. It’s my job to help the best way I can. But
you have to understand, I’m not the kind of doctor that takes care of
children, or sick people, Alphonse.” She soothed. “But I do need to
go. I have many patients waiting for me, ok? And they’re all very
important people that need someone to help them, ok?”
“Ok.” How could he argue. The boy released her hand, feeling the pull
of the IV as his arm dropped to the bedside. He wondered what kind of
patients she was talking about. Doctors where he came from took care
of the sick. Was she one of those doctors who helped people’s minds?
“Come back again?”
“If I can.” The doctor touched his cheek and gave it a gentle pat. “Do
me a favor Alphonse. You’re still very sick. You need to be strong.
Don’t ever give up, ok?”
Alphonse gave a little laugh. Him give up? His entire life he and his
brother spent chasing dreams even when there was no hope. “We Elrics
are famous for having hope when there is none. So don’t worry about
me. I’ll be ok now. Especially if brother is ok.” He tried to sit up a
little, and felt a flash of pain in his gut. The boy grimaced and sank
back, surprised by the extent of his wounds.
“Be careful, sweetheart. I suppose I should be telling you to keep
“No, I’m the good one.” Alphonse reassured her. He touched her arm,
offering a smile even though his eyes were filled with pain. “Brother,
he’s the one who can’t keep still. You’ll have to tie him to his bed
if you want him to behave.” He was exaggerating, of course, but it had
its effect. Dr. Woods smiled. She understood boys, Alphonse
thought, like his mother did. He wondered if she had children of her
own, because she acted like she did.
Straightening, Dr. Woods turned to leave. “Don’t worry, Alphonse,
I’m sure they’ll keep your brother in one place. You take good care of
Mr. Elric, Harry, and please give Todd a call, ok?”
Doctor Sullivan smiled and patted the folder in his hands. “I will
bring it up to social service.”
Hunkering down in his bed, Alphonse Elric watched the woman leave. He
was sorry to see her go, but she promised him he was in good hands. He
was starting to feel tired again and his body was very weak. But he
refused to sleep, not yet. There was a great deal he needed to know.
Yawning, he glance up at Doctor Sullivan, forcing his large eyes wide.
“What exactly is social service?”