When Ed was 11, he lost both his arm and his leg and his brother's body. He lost his leg and his brother's body when an attempt to raise his mother from the dead with alchemy rebounded; he lost his arm as a sacrifice to bind his brother's soul to a suit of armour.

There was no question in his mind whose fault it was.

His brother might argue - had, quietly, with Winry. "I went along with it. If I'd just stopped him-" but he hadn't stopped him, and the fact that he'd needed to be stopped at all told him the truth.

Hours after it happened a soldier had come and told him to join the military and had gone. He'd heard it, though he'd been barely conscious, and he hadn't seemed worth the effort of responding.

Nothing was worth the effort anymore. They'd lost their mother, he'd damned his brother, and there was nothing left but death.

He shifted in the bed, felt pain rush over him as the bandages pulled against where his arm had been, where his leg had been. He sucked in air, and tried to stay quiet.

On the other side of the room, the hulking form of his brother sat against the wall. The light of his eyes was out, so there was no choice but to assume he was sleeping.

"Hey," a voice said from behind him and his head whipped around. Ignoring the pain, he struggled to worm himself up against the wall so he could *see* - and there was a man there.

He wasn't the same soldier as before, though he wore a military uniform, medals weighing the chest down, and he was large, muscles straining the uniform, though his face was delicate, almost beautiful.

"Who are you?" Ed asked, brows drawn down in both pain and sudden anger. "This isn't your place-"

"Everywhere's my place, kid." The soldier laughed, pulled up a stool. Ed shot his brother a look, but Al didn't wake. "I'm here to talk to you."

Ed scowled. "Talk, then."

The man stretched, lazy, and said, "You may not believe this, but I'm an angel."

a door, the holy sephiroth, knowledge, a glowing being, a smile, his leg dissolving - the passing fee

"I don't believe in God or angels," Ed said, stiffly.

With a shrug, the angel said, "That's fine. They believe in you."

Ed glared at him, wordless, willing him to leave.

"You have two choices that I see, boy," the angel drawled. "You can give up and let yourself die and get nothing done - or you can overcome. You can choose to fight. Find the way to save your brother and yourself, with my help."

He could feel his heart speed up. "...there's a way to save us?"

"Of course there is. There's always a way."

Ed's eyes narrowed. "What do I have to do?"

"Become a Dog of the Military. Serve War as best you can."

That was it? It was nothing. "Fine."

The man grinned, then reached out and touched him. He felt stronger, then, more determined. "Good."

And then the soldier rose and turned to leave.

"Wait -" Ed demanded. "Who are you - really?"

At the door, the angel turned back and grinned. "Call me Michael," he said, and left.

The name meant nothing to him. Ed sat up all night, pondering, brows furrowed, watching his unnatural brother sleep.

The next day, Ed asked Pinako for automail limbs.