Title : Drowning in the Abyss

Genre : Anime/Manga

Category : Full Metal Alchemist

Disclaimer : I am in no way affiliated with the fine people who created the show or manga but am grateful for it nonetheless.

Summary : It appears that traveling through the Gate affected Alphonse more than Edward ever knew. Sequel to Whispers of a Nightmare. Post movie.

Chapter 6 : Phoenix Dreams

He almost wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation. Here he was, having a perfectly good conversation with his subordinate of nearly ten years, and then this.

Someone he hadn't seen in more time than he cared to remember.

Hesitantly, he unlocked the back door, clearing his throat as the man continued to stare at him through the window, rain still pattering down heavily on the glass. After a few moments of no movement and uncomfortable silence, he reluctantly rolled down his window, annoyed at the water that was starting to hit him in the face.

A thousand words ran through his mind, filled with sarcasm and anger and hate; but for the life of him, he just couldn't manage to speak any of them. In a way, it just didn't seem right.

Hearing the sigh he was so desperately trying to conceal leave his lips, he glanced upward, his good eye locking into the pair of navy ones that were seemingly staring a hole right through him.

Instantly, he felt like a child again, about to be reprimanded for coming in too late, or being caught doing something he knew he shouldn't be. Why he felt like that, he couldn't quite understand. Hell, how long had it been? At least a decade...

“Why aren't you getting in?” Roy finally broke the silence, his ebony orb glowering precariously as he broke the stare between him and the older man. In the back of his head, he could hear his fingertips tapping on the door panel, rhythmically along with the rain.

“Because I don't feel the need to,” Rian finally replied, his brow narrowing as he stared down at the boy he hadn't seen in over ten years. He immediately caught sight of the various medals and ranking marks on the uniform his son wore, though he hid any expression that indicated he was in the least bit proud. Perhaps, he'd save that for later. When he was drunk.

“Then why are you still standing there?” The man wanted to bite his tongue, but past regrets and bitterness wouldn't let him. He could feel the heat seizing his pale cheeks, but was thankful for the blanket of darkness the night provided him.

Just before his father could throw the General a perfectly good retort, Hawkeye cut in, doing her best to cool down the tempers that were starting to flare.

“Excuse me, you must be Rian Mustang. What a pleasure it is to finally meet you, sir,” the blonde stated in her most formal tone, extending her hand past Roy and out towards the rolled down window. “I've heard quite a lot about you,” she lied through her teeth, earning a quite confused stare from the younger Mustang.

“Is that right?” the older man questioned incredulously, an eyebrow raising questioningly. He gave her hand a glance, but made no move to return the gesture, making sure to showcase the disgust he felt towards the military loud and clear.

She ignored the snub, continuing to be as polite as she could bare. Many a time, she'd come across a drunken Roy in their early days, mumbling something about, “that damned bastard...deserves to burn in hell for the things he's done,” and other various words and phrases he so dutifully used to describe his father. Apparently, he wasn't kidding.

“Well, I can see that ice is still circulating through your veins, even after all these years. You haven't changed a bit,” Roy quipped before Riza could get a word in edgewise.

“And I see that you haven't either, 'cept for that thing you've got over your eye. Guess they don't make 'em big enough to fit over your mouth,” Rian remarked, earning a heated glare from Roy. He was silent for a moment, sizing his son up as best he knew how. “Tell me, your military still hiring children?”

The younger Mustang immediately opened his mouth for a dignified response when his father's question finally sunk in. “Children?” he nearly scoffed at the notion, sarcasm building in his tone. “Now Rian, what ever gave you the idea that we accepted...children?” He could already feel the acid biting at his tongue, the man inwardly kicking himself for actually wanting to hear what the old man had to say.

“Don't act as though you don't know,” the fiftysomething man stated with his own smirk. He couldn't help but stare at the dumbfounded look in his son's eyes, making him all the more interested in the boy he'd lost touch with so many years ago. “Some years back, I had a few boys stop by, and one of them just happened to be a State Alchemist. Smartass little bastard if you ask me, but if he was one of yours, that would go without saying, wouldn't it?” His navy orbs gleamed in the moonlight that was slowly starting to peek out of the clouds, the corners of his mouth still faintly showcasing a disbelieving grin.

Roy suddenly found himself staring straight ahead, memories that had long been etched into the confines of his mind passing right before his very eyes, forcing him to see images he'd put away for safe keeping some time ago.

But he kept his silence momentary. He'd let those visions of a child that had grown up too soon invade his consciousness later, perhaps when he was unconscious.

“What are you doing out in the middle of nowhere, Rian?” Roy's tone had suddenly grown serious, surprising both his subordinate and his father.

The older man's face transformed back into that of impassiveness, his posture immediately straightening. He cleared his throat before he spoke, his gaze still fixed on Roy.

“I don't have to explain anything to you, boy,” he informed the General, backing away from the vehicle. “I thought you might have been of some assistance; that is, until I realized who you were,” Rian muttered with bitterness in his tone, his shadow quickly fading away into the darkness as his feet crunched on the gravel below.

It didn't take long for Roy to follow suit, something telling him that he had to find out what was going on, and fast. “Stay here,” he murmured, not so much as even giving the woman at his left a glance. “I'll be right back.”

He was out of the car before he could hear her recite, “Understood, sir,” followed by a helpless sigh. She shook her head as she watched the younger Mustang catch up with the elder, inwardly praying there wouldn't be any punches thrown.

“Wait.” It was as though his voice seemingly echoed throughout the night, the trees silent for the moment, though only for the moment. It didn't take long before the wind started to scream, rustling what was left of their leaves.

The man continued to walk, ignoring his son's command. He only stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, a surprisingly firm yet gentle grip holding him in place.

“I didn't ask.” The younger of the two watched as his father slowly turned to face him, his ebony orb staring into the all too familiar navy ones that greeted him solemnly. “You and I both know that the place we used to call home is more than thirty kilometers east of here. So obviously, you weren't here merely by coincidence.” Roy paused for a moment, finally noticing what he was unable to before.

There was fear in his father's eyes. An emotion he'd never witnessed his father express, especially not openly.

“You're running away from something,” the State Alchemist declared, his hand slowly slipping off Rian's shoulder. “But from what?” He couldn't take his eye off the man that stood in front of him now, curiosity confiscating his soul.

The man grunted in response, silent laughter dancing in his eyes. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say that damn little brat was yours.” A mocking smile turned up the corner of his lips once again, the man inwardly enjoying the game the two were playing.

“Quit the small talk, Rian. I want to know what's going on.” His tone was serious, matching the expression he wore across his visage.

“It's none of your damn business. It stopped being your business the minute you walked out the door.” Navy orbs disappeared into the velveteen darkness once more as the older man turned his back, stalking off towards what appeared to be a truck, the back right tire blown out.

Clenching his jaw, he followed the man once more, steeling himself as best he could, so not as to lose his mind.

“Maybe...Maybe I can help you,” Roy forced the words from his lips, feeling his teeth grind against one another, the noise echoing throughout his head.

The offer more than caught the older man's attention, he immediately stopping in his tracks and turning to face the boy who'd abandoned him too long ago. He caught only a glimpse of the desperation his son was letting off, the rest of it more than likely confined to his covered eye. Rian exhaled, attempting to let out some of the frustration that had been building within him.

“No,” the older Mustang started, shaking his head. “I don't think you can. Not this time.” His voice was surprisingly gentle, it being no where near the tone he had first started off with. It was softer this time around, and weary.

“It can't be that bad,” Roy offered, his visage contorting into a look of confusion. He studied his father, barely able to see his face through the dark, with the exception of a few stray rays of moonlight that escaped through the thick clouds. The older man had surely aged since the last time they'd seen each other, but it appeared even more so around his eyes and mouth, the fine lines now visible, even in the dimness.

“More than you know,” Rian replied, letting out a sigh as he turned towards the truck once more, though he didn't move towards it. He kept still for a moment before finally turning back around, the fear more than present in his navy orbs once again.

“I only have so much-”

“You were right,” the words the man didn't want to say escaped through the night air and into his son's ears.

“What?” Roy stared at Rian, taken aback by the man's sudden admittance. “About what?” The General was captivated now, his interest leaping tenfold.

A dry laugh left Rian's throat, his eyes turning to slits for a few seconds before the nervous laughter dissolved. “About me running away. You were right,” he confirmed, hating every second of it.

The younger Mustang's brow declined even further, curiosity filling his good eye. He leaned forward slightly, his interest peaked. He never would of thought in a million years his father would ever admit that he, Roy Mustang, was indeed, right. It wasn't even a fathomable idea.

“Go on,” the ebony-eyed man stated, his voice low as he saw the fear wash over his father's face, gradually making its way to his dark orbs. He'd never seen the man like that, not even when his mother died. Something was definitely wrong.

Rian couldn't look at his son, too embarrassed because of the words that were about to come out of his mouth. But the more he thought about it, the less important it seemed, his mind traveling back to the horrors he'd seen and heard. His navy eyes slowly wandered toward the woods, a slight, involuntary shudder coming over him.

“There's something out th-”

“General!” Hawkeye called out, interrupting the words the younger Mustang was trying so desperately to hear. “Sir, I have some very disturbing news,” she stated, attempting to catch her breath. Ignoring the glare that the said man was now staring at her with, she continued. “There was just a breaking news bulletin and it concerns a town near our destination.” She paused, awaiting for his approval to go on.

Roy glanced at Rian, clenching his jaw as nodded at the woman, giving her the go ahead.

“Reports are coming into Central stating that there are-” she cut herself off, almost afraid to go on. Taking a deep breath, she went on, knowing how strange her next sentence was going to sound. “— monsters running amok in the streets of Sumner, terrorizing the citizens. It hasn't been confirmed, but—“

“Let's go.” It was a definite command, one that the blonde understood completely, she already making her way back to their vehicle. “And you're coming too,” he announced, not even giving the older man a second glance, his military-issued boots already crunching their way back to the parked car.

Without a word, his father followed him. Maybe it was time he start listening to that boy.

Maybe.

&&&&&

The sound of the wind teasing his ears forced him to open his eyes, the chilly air flooding across his bare arms, making the there but barely noticeable hair stand up on end. Taking in a deep breath, the teen took in his surroundings, realizing that he was in a place far from Germany. Hell, far from this world.

The familiar hunter green curtains came into view, the cottony material fluttering against the breeze that was pushing across its heavy fibers. A dark horizon loomed ominously behind the half-open glass, the pane beneath collecting tiny droplets from the outside world.

To his left was the kitchen, to his far right, an empty bed. It only took a moment to recall who's it was, and who would never sleep in it again.

He knew this place. It was rooted deep within the confines of his soul. No matter what happened to him, no matter where he went, he'd always remember this place. It was his safety, his stronghold, yet a prison in its own right.

“No matter how much time passes, the beauty of a summer storm never changes,” a voice startled him from the silent state he was in. The brunette's head immediately snapped in the direction that the voice had come from, tears brimming at his eyes as he realized who was staring back at him.

“Dad!” The excitement in his voice was hardly containable, the teen almost sounding like a child again. For a moment, he almost thought he was.

His gunmetal orbs traced the aging man's features, from his thick mane of golden blonde hair, though faded with time, all the way to those hauntingly familiar eyes. The eyes he only had the chance of looking into once, and that was some time ago. Far too long ago.

Fine lines had weaved their way into his skin, etching themselves just underneath his eyes and near his mouth. And as he smiled, Alphonse could see them stretch just the tiniest bit, forcing him to remember—even if it was only for a nanosecond—that this was only a figment of his imagination.

But for once, he liked this place that he was in. It seemed so calm, so serene; perfectly comfortable to the point where it seemed nothing could go wrong.

The younger alchemist could feel a grin tugging at his lips as well, but he restrained how large the smile stretched, not wanting to appear too childish or giddy. After all, he was eighteen now. A man. Living in Germany, not here, and not with his father. No, his father was dead. Gone. Killed by a homunculus. At least, that's what Ed had told him.

Alphonse could suddenly feel the taut grin fading from his face, a more world-wary expression conquering his visage. His brow slowly narrowed, a look of bemusement achingly making its way into his eyes.

After a long silence, he spoke finally, letting his words choose themselves. “You're-You're not real.”

“Right now, I'm as real as you want me to be, son,” Hohenheim informed him in that casual tone he always seemed to use when he spoke. A few strands of loose hair dangled in front of his golden orbs, gently falling upon his cheek as the warm breeze blew past them. “Your mother and I used to watch these all the time. The sound of the rain would always put her to sleep.” He let a low laugh escape his throat as his gaze fixed itself on the scene that was taking place outside. “But not you and Edward. I'm not quite sure who was more scared of the thunder, you or him.”

The teenager was transfixed, unable to stop listening to the man that had abandoned his family so long ago. Of course, he had come back, but it was too late by then. But now...

Why did it feel so real? Everything—the moisture in the air, the scent of rain, the lightning crossing the sky, far off in the distance; he shivered, unable to shake the feeling of the possibility that somehow, he was really there, as well as his father. He wanted to believe it so badly.

“I do recall the time we heard one of you scream during a fairly bad storm. If I remember correctly, lightning had struck not too far away...” His voice drifted off for a moment, as though he were actually watching the memory instead of telling it. “Anyway,” the man continued, clearing his throat. “Your mother and I ran to your room, and low and behold, you and Edward were laying next to one another in your crib, your arms around each other, eyes closed tight. We couldn't get either one of you to let go until you both had fallen back asleep...”

“But you're not here to reminisce, are you?” The younger alchemist's voice was low, his eyes glistening in the dim shades of grey that poured in through the open window. He couldn't look at the man right now, ultimately knowing what his response would be. He closed his eyes as he bowed his head, almost cringing as he felt the wind lightly brush against his cheek, pulling a few locks of hair up with it and twirling them around before letting them fall back to their resting place.

A faint trace of a smile crossed the older man's thin lips, evidence of his true age showcasing itself in his eyes. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke, using that same easy-going tone.

“No, I'm not,” he answered honestly, his gaze falling from the window to his son's face, pain etching itself across his aged visage. “I'm here as a warning,” the man stated, his voice dropping a notch as he shifted in the chair, turning to face the eighteen-year-old.

“A warning? For what? For home?” the questions flew from the young man's lips a mile a minute, he nearly jumping out of his seat, never having seen his father so serious. It just didn't quite fit the man.

“Something's going to happen, son. Something that's going to turn this country and even those surrounding it upside down, if nothing is done. If you ever were planning on returning...you might not come back to anything.” Hohenheim's voice was almost sad, a hint of sorrow dancing in his faded golden orbs.

“Well, what? What is it?” Alphonse nearly screeched, his body starting to shake underneath the thin layer of clothing he wore. He could feel heat wash over his cheeks as the breeze that was blowing through the open window suddenly turned cold, downright bitter. His breath caught in his throat as he watched his father rise to his feet, the sound of the older man's footsteps echoing eerily through the empty house.

“People that you loved, that you cared for...will die. This world will cease to exist. The Gate will open its doors for the very last time on this side, and anything and everything that ever happened here will disappear. A vast wasteland will stand before you, ghosts will walk the land, and they will be the only reminder that a living soul actually existed here. The binds that keep this world together are slowly unraveling, at a rate neither you or I could fathom. You and Edward are needed here.”

As the older alchemist continued to stare out the window, his back turned to his son, the scene that stretched across the stormy sky grew more violent, lightning striking almost every other second. Thunder boomed and cackled, shaking the ground and making all the glass in the house tremble. And as Al's vision wandered further, he took notice of the land and how it changed.

Gone was the grass so green that it glimmered like running water in the summer sun. Suddenly gone was the light breeze that had been teasing his skin ever so gently. Bit by bit, the walls of the home he and Ed had burned down so long ago vanished, taking all the knickknacks and alchemy books and those hunter green curtains along with it, leaving him and his father standing in the middle of nothingness.

The earth shifted below him, and as he glanced down, he wanted to scream as the ground turned into a horrid reddish-brown color, sticky and reeking of blood. He opened his mouth to speak, but was overwhelmed by the odor that filled his nostrils, leaving him to gag on the remnants that were sticking to the back of his throat.

His gunmetal orbs looked to the hill-less horizon, the land seemingly stretching on forever, no matter which direction he faced. And all that he saw was nothing, complete and absolute nihility.

“What's going on?” Alphonse cried out as a loud moaning noise arose from out of nowhere. It was quiet at first, though it steadily gained strength before becoming so loud he could hardly hear his father talking.

“They're calling out to you, son.” Hohenheim's voice was gentle, but his tone was filled with an unknown emotion Al could only identify as fear.

“What? Who?” the teenager exclaimed, his eyes widening as the sound grew to almost deafening proportions.

“The voices of the dead,” his father explained, slowly turning back to face the young man who had become terrified by the notion that dead people were screaming at him, albeit ones he actually knew.

“No! No, this can't be right! This isn't going to happen! It can't!” The eighteen-year-old's voice continued to rise and shake as the noise whirled around him, sounding so utterly close, yet so far away. His body jerked as wet droplets rained against his pale skin, and it took a moment for him to realize that they weren't their usual transparent color. No, the color of the rain that was falling upon the teen was stained crimson, contrasting oddly with the light shade of his flesh.

Slowly, he raised his head, staring at the violent sky that loomed above him. The ruby-red rain continued to pour down on him, staining his clothes and skin, but as his gaze drifted to Hohenheim, he saw that the older man didn't have a drop on him. He was unscathed by the blood bath.

“How do we stop this?” His voice was trembling now, tears rocking back and forth in his scared grey orbs, like waves in a restless ocean.

His father was silent for a moment, facing the soulless wasteland that decorated the once beautiful fields and hills. Slowly, the man turned to face him once more, his golden eyes glowing as though they'd been set afire. “Come home.”

It only took a second for darkness to wash over his vision, and before he knew it, he was lying on his back, breathless, in a bed that was not his own.

&&&&&

Sweat was trickling down his forehead and temples, his chest rising and falling faster than he thought was possible as he sat up in the bed. His heart was beating a hundred miles a minute, the veins throbbing in his neck, his mouth dry due to lack of liquid.

“Ed?” Al called out weakly, the teen slowly coming to his senses, but a taste of the dream still lingered in the back of his eyes. “Brother?” he tried once more, cringing as pain started to electrocute the nerves in his arm. His left hand immediately shot to the covered wound, his teeth gritting as another searing pain shot through his muscle.

The door to the near-empty room practically flew open as Edward hurried in, limping all the way over to his little brother's bed, a crooked grin on his still youthful visage. “You're awake,” the nineteen-year-old announced, his golden orbs gleaming as he stared down at Al. The grin quickly faded from his features as he took note of the fear and hurt that was etched across his sibling's face, dried tears staining Alphonse's cheeks. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“Huh? Oh...my arm just hurts,” Al lied, glancing down at the bed sheets, mentally kicking himself for not telling his brother the truth. Sometimes, he was a worse liar that Ed. And Edward knew it too, taking and holding that fact to his advantage.

“Come on, Al, I'm not stupid. What's wrong? Why were you crying?” He studied his younger brother, worry slowly crossing his brow the longer the young man took to respond. “Al!” he couldn't help but scold, hating the fact that he knew Alphonse was hiding something from him. “Just tell me. Was it a bad dream?”

The eighteen-year-old was more than hesitant to respond, his gaze gradually climbing from the bed to his brother's distraught appearance. Dammit, he just couldn't do it. Well, not completely.

“I...I had a dream about—about Dad.” His voice was just short of a whisper, his vocal chords threatening to give out on him if he said much more without drinking anything. “Can I please have a glass of water?” He was trying to change the subject in any way he could, but the former alchemist knew by the expression on his older brother's face that the subject was going to be fully discussed, no matter how hard he tried to push past it.

The brunette watched as Ed poured him a glass of water from a pitcher that was sitting on a small nightstand on the right side of his bed. He hurriedly took the tumbler from his brother's hand, gulping down its contents within seconds, his dry throat thanking him for it but his brain reprimanding him at the same time. Now he had no excuse as to why he couldn't speak.

“Well?” Edward urged him to talk, looking thoughtfully curious, but still concerned at the same time. There had been a few things Ed had forgotten to mention about their father's death, like the fact that the man had basically let his life be taken by his own hands. And the other being that he'd done it all so Ed could go home.

Yet look where he was now.

Alphonse's gaze slowly fell upon his older brother, silently observing the young man as a hint of anger crept across his face. Al knew where the anger had come from. It always came around almost any time with the mention of their father. Ed had tried his best to disguise it now, a far cry from the out right hate he used to show the man.

But things were different now. That man was dead.

“He-He was talking to me, about us and Mom...about things that had happened a long time ago.” He paused for a moment, thinking his words out before he said them. The dreams that he had been having were becoming increasingly disturbing, let alone frighteningly real. No—there was no use worrying Ed. He had too many other things on his mind. They were more important than any stupid nightmare he'd had. That's exactly what they are, just stupid, unreal, nightmares, he told himself, knowing it was somehow still a lie. “About home,” the brunette finally stated, forcing a small smile to tip up the corners of his lips.

“Oh.” Surprisingly, Edward was quiet for a moment, a questioning look in his eyes as he continued to stare down at his younger brother. “What did he say?” His voice was low; unbelieving. Never in a million years would he have ever cared about what his father had said, especially in a dream. But for some unknown reason now, he needed to know.

“He said—“ Al paused again, a shaky hint of a laugh befalling his throat. “Um, he said that when you were little, you used to be afraid of thunderstorms, and you'd come crawl up into my crib until it was over.” Tears presented themselves in the young man's gunmetal orbs once more, he trying to laugh them off; but at the moment, the task deemed almost impossible. A quiet sob suddenly escaped his lips, he immediately covering his eyes with his good arm.

Just seeing his little brother breaking down in front of him nearly made Ed's heart feel like it was in his throat, guilt wading its way through his system. It isn't fair, a tiny voice inside his head screamed. He shouldn't have to go through this!

Clenching his jaw and steadying himself as best he could, Edward sat down on the edge of the bed, gently laying a metallic hand on Al's shoulder. “Hey, what's wrong?” he inquired softly, the guilt growing like a tidal wave preparing to hit the unsuspecting sand.

A few more contained sobs left the younger man before he could reply. “It's just that—I miss him.” He sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I know it sounds strange, but I do. There's so many things he could've taught us, you know? He was so smart, and brave. And he loved us.” More tears came, teasing the balance that he'd so perfectly created. “He loved us, Ed, but he's gone. He's gone.” The water in his eyes spilled over onto his perplexed cheeks once more, his chest rising up and down as he tried to control the loud cry that was about to part his lips.

Without a word, Ed slowly put his arms around his distraught brother, holding him tight as more sobs reverberated around the room, making the older of the two feel even worse. But he just couldn't bring himself to say the things he needed to say. He didn't want to fight right now. And telling Alphonse that he'd lied would just make the whole thing blow up in his face. He'd save it for another time.

Silence drifted between them for longer than Edward could count, and after awhile, he slowly pulled away from the eighteen-year-old, though one hand still rested gently on Al's good shoulder. In a way, he was relieved, mutely thankful that Al was actually behaving like a kid again. But he knew that the feeling was fleeting, and all would go back to like it had been as of late.

“How's your arm feel? Carl said the bullet went straight through, and that there shouldn't be any lasting damage. It's just going to hurt like hell for awhile.” For once, he was being the caring, older brother; the type of brother he should've been all along, but sometimes more than not, his own selfish desires got in the way of things, making him blind to the more obvious facts that were right in front of his face.

“It'll be fine,” Al forced a superficial smile, shrugging off his brother's touch, anger slowly creasing the lines in his forehead. He'd gone and done it again. Ed had successfully changed the subject from one thing to another, silently avoiding the problem at hand. Dammit, he wanted to talk about their father! He wanted to know what he was like! But no, Ed wouldn't let him. Not today, not tomorrow, or any other day for that matter.

“Al? What is it? What's wrong?” the nineteen-year-old asked, obviously confused at his younger sibling's sudden emotional transformation. “Are you okay?” he tried again, only receiving a grunt as a response. He watched as Al shakily got to his feet, ignoring the words that left Edward's lips. “Where are you going?” Ed inquired, strands of gold falling in his face as he went to follow his younger brother.

“Just—don't, Ed. Not right now,” Al stated in an even tone, his good arm extended out behind him in attempt to make sure Edward didn't try to stop him. “I just want to be left alone for a little while,” he added, his voice low and his face still turned towards the door. Without another word, he exited the room, leaving Ed in his speechless wake.

Outside, the rain that had been falling slowly turned into snow, decorating the forest scenery. But neither of the two young men caught the beautiful sight, too engulfed within their thoughts to see it.

Author's note : I am so everyone for taking over a month to update this! I had two weddings to attend and my husband's family reunion, so I was hardly at home. Much of this chapter was written while on the road, so hopefully, it's not too bad. ; )

Thank you all so much for your patience with me. I know I can be trying, and I just want to THANK Legendary Chimera, ShadowMist, Kibamonkey777, JChrys, ShinigamiXIII, Pink Pagoda, Dark Mage Makai, TelevisionGod, ShadowCloud62, Shattered Mirror01, kelol, and everyone else who has supported this story thus far.

I hope to hear from each of you. Please let me know how I'm doing. And if anyone's interested, this story is probably going to be a bit longer than Whispers, if my planning is right, anyway. Oh well, hope it sufficed.