I rubbed my eyes and stretched, joints popping as I stood from the library chair. We’d been reading for hours, and even Al’s armor creaked from sitting so long. That’s when something smacked onto my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
        “Hey!” Nicole grinned down at me, lowering her arm.
        She’d changed out of uniform; now in a sweatshirt and black pants, a bulky bag slung across her shoulder.
        “Took you long enough,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “I was starting to think you’d ditched us.”
        She laughed and stepped in front of me. “Sorry. Nina wanted to play, and I got carried away. I try to give her as much time as I can before duty calls. Sometimes I’m gone for days.”
        That drew a frown from me. “Figures. They run you ragged, huh? Why not train others to do what you do instead of taking it all on yourself?”
        Nicole’s smile dimmed. “If it were that easy, I would. Healing alchemy isn’t something you just pick up. Sure, I can show people how to fix cuts or bruises, but teaching someone to heal others? To guide flesh back together without killing the person in the process? That’s… rare.” She glanced aside, eyes shadowed. “I’ve tried. But so far, no one else can do it.”
        Her voice softened. “If we could get even a handful of healing alchemists into hospitals across Amestris, it would change everything. Until then, it’s just me; patching soldiers up until the ink in my pen runs dry.”
        I studied her face. The dark circles under her eyes, the hollow cheeks, she looked worn thin, stretched between duty and exhaustion. And yet she smiled anyway, steady as steel.
        “Anyway,” she said, shaking it off, “let’s grab your brother and get started.”
        Al was easy to find, buried in a book as usual. Nicole herded us to a long table at the back of the library. She dropped her bag onto it, smacking me on the shoulder again.
        “I was starting to think you forgot us, Miss Tucker,” Al said politely.
        Nicole groaned. “Just Nicole. And stop making me sound like an old woman.” Then, with a grin, she planted her hand on my shoulder again. “Besides, I already had to drag this little guy out of his sulk.”
        My temper snapped. “WHO ARE YOU CALLING LITTLE?!” I pulled away from her, fists shaking. Before I could launch into a rant, something heavy smacked the floor with a hollow thud.

Nicole’s arm.

        Al and I froze, screaming over each other.
        “BROTHER, YOU RIPPED OFF HER ARM!”
        “I DIDN’T EVEN PULL THAT HARD!”
        I gaped at her, panicked. “Quick, heal yourself before you bleed out!”
        But Nicole doubled over laughing. She peeled off her sweatshirt, revealing both arms completely intact. Still chuckling, she grabbed the prosthetic limb from the floor and plopped it on the table.
        “That,” she said, smirk sharp, “was your introduction to healing alchemy. If you panic, they panic. And then they die. Lesson one, keep your head.”
        Al and I slumped back, still rattled. I wanted to stay mad, but she wasn’t wrong. You can’t calm chaos if you’re part of it.
        Nicole set up her materials quickly: paper, pens, and a folded anatomy poster. She pinned it flat to the table. “We’ll start simple. To understand bioalchemy and maybe scratch the surface of healing, you need a strong foundation.”
        We scribbled notes as she broke it down with surgical clarity:

Step one: Break damaged tissue into a malleable state.

Step two: Reshape it into a healthy, functional form.

Step three: Control. Precision. Focus. One mistake can kill.

        Then she laid out transmutation circles. My first instinct was to dismiss them, since I didn't use circles, but when I caught the patterns, my stomach flipped. Xingese Alkahestry.
        “This,” Nicole explained, tapping the design, “is how you channel the Dragon’s Pulse. You guide your chi and theirs to accelerate natural healing. Alone, you can heal yourself. Together, you can heal others. If their chi is fading, you can’t save them. That’s the line we walk.”
        She rolled up her sleeve and drew out a scalpel.
        “Wait, what -” I started, but she’d already sliced her arm open. Blood welled fast. Al gasped and lunged, but she batted him away.
        “Calm down, Al. Control your fear or you’ll kill your patient. Now watch.”
        She pressed her wound to the circle. Red light bled across the table. Her jaw tightened as she breathed deep, forcing her focus. The cut knitted together, skin sealing as if time itself rewound.
        Al and I leaned closer, awestruck. Within seconds, the wound was gone; smooth, unmarked, save for drying blood.
        Nicole wiped her arm and grabbed the dummy prosthetic. “That was easy. Now for harder cases.”
        She slammed it against the table. The bone snapped with a sharp crack, making my gut clench. Peeling the fake skin open with her scalpel, she revealed the clean break.
        “Lucky this one’s simple,” she said. “If it were shattered, it would take longer. If the bone shattered, you could use the remaining bone to fill in the gaps, but that'll make the bone substantially weaker and have a lot longer healing time. You CAN NOT replace what's been lost. If the limb is completely gone, then it'll be best to just heal what remains. But watch.”
        She set her hand over the fracture, red light sparking again. Sweat slicked her brow as the bone fused, marrow reconnecting, vessels sealing. When it finished, only a faint line remained where the break had been.
        Nicole sat back, drained but steady. “Healing works, but it’s not perfect. Bones stay fragile. Wounds leave the body weak. Quick fixes save lives, but time is still the best medicine.”
        I stared, barely breathing. This wasn’t destruction or reshaping iron and stone; it was something else entirely.
        For the first time since we stepped into the Tucker house, I wasn’t thinking about tricks or shortcuts. I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, healing alchemy was the closest thing to actual magic I’d ever seen.
        I sat back hard in my chair, staring at the arm she’d just healed like it might spring to life. My mouth was dry, words caught in my throat. For once, I didn’t know what to say.
        Nicole smirked at me knowingly. “Not so mousy now, huh?”
        “Quit calling me that,” I shot back automatically, but my voice cracked halfway through. Al laughed under his breath, the traitor.
        Nicole leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Well? What do you think?”
        I looked at her, then at the spotless line on the dummy arm, then back at her. “… I think you’re insane.”
        That earned another laugh, bright and unbothered. “Takes one to know one, Fullmetal.”
        Al tilted his head. “But… It’s incredible. You can actually give people their lives back.” His voice was quiet, almost reverent.
        Nicole’s expression softened at him. “Sometimes. But it’s not perfect, Al. Every time I heal, it takes something out of me. You don’t always get a clean fix. And sometimes…” Her eyes darkened, that cheer dimming just for a breath. “… sometimes, no matter how much energy you throw at a wound, it isn’t enough. You can’t save them all.”
        I felt that like a punch in the gut. Mom’s face flashed behind my eyes, pale and lifeless. All the circles, all the knowledge, all the desperation... and still, we couldn’t bring her back.
        I clenched my fists under the table. “But you can save some,” I muttered.
        Nicole nodded. “Yeah. And that’s why I'll keep going until I can’t anymore.”
        Silence settled between us for a beat. Al’s armor shifted as he sat straighter, his voice tinged with hope. “Could… could you teach us more? Even just the basics?”
        Nicole raised a brow, looking at me. “What about you, Fullmetal? You actually interested, or still thinking it’s ‘insane’?”
        I glared at her smirk, but the truth clawed its way out before I could choke it back. “…Yeah. I want to learn.”
        Her smile widened; not mocking this time, but almost proud. “Good. Then you’d better be ready to sweat. Healing takes more than alchemy; it takes focus, patience, and a stomach for pain. Not everyone’s cut out for it.”
        She tapped the dummy arm, then her own still-smeared wrist. “But I think you two just might be stubborn enough.”
        Al practically lit up beside me. I huffed, slumping in my chair, but deep down, something gnawed at me.