Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ The Sound of Silence ❯ Alphonse ( Chapter 10 )

 

 

The Sound of Silence

 

Chapter Nine

 

Alphonse

 

 

Beep

 

Beep

 

Beep

 

Ed sighed and looked up through the dim light at the life support machine as it continued its incessant beeping. He hated that fucking machine. Every beep seemed to be a pronouncement of how utterly unfair his life was.

 

He yawned.

 

It was late and he was tired, but he supposed he was used to less sleep by now. Ed knew he'd need to go to sleep soon, or he'd just collapse, but he wanted to stay awake as long as possible, just in case Al awoke.

 

Ed bent over his brother and pulled the blanket up so that it touched the boy's chin. The sandy-haired boy was pale and thin—malnourished to the point that Ed thought he'd seen corpses that looked healthier. Wires from the life support machine snaked their way under the blanket where they were taped to Al's chest, and a few different IV tubes connected the boy's arms and hands with plastic bags hanging on metal poles.

 

Still bending over, Ed let his eyes run over Al's face. This wasn't exactly how he'd imagined things would be once they reached their goal, or at least when he reached his goal of getting his brother's body back, given that he still had the automail. It had never even occurred to him that his brother's body might be the same age that it had been when it had been taken away.

 

Ed sighed.

 

Two weeks. It had been two long weeks since he'd gotten Al's body back, and in all that time, his brother hadn't woken even once. But, he was alive. There was that much at least. It had been a lucky thing that he'd been transferred back to Central along with Mustang's unit. East City's hospital was the best in that region, but it wasn't nearly as advanced as the one in Central.

 

The seventeen-year-old reached over and gently moved a lock of Al's sandy-blond hair. He just couldn't believe how young his brother looked. Al didn't seem so young in his memories, but Ed supposed that was due to the fact that he'd been that young himself. His brother's features were so pure and innocent... Ed frowned slightly, wondering if he'd looked so innocent at that age.

 

A clicking sound from the doorknob met his ears and he looked up, squinting when bright light from the hallway flooded into the dimly lit room. A figure walked in and shut the door; and when Ed saw who it was, he scowled.

 

“It's past midnight. What the hell are you doing here?” he asked irritably as he stood straight.

 

“I thought I'd bring you some coffee and a little something to eat,” Mustang replied easily, holding up a small Styrofoam cup and a paper bag before sitting down on the small couch on the side of the room. Ed frowned unhappily. He'd been sleeping on that couch since Al had been admitted and he didn't like having his `bed' so casually taken over—especially by Mustang.

 

He eyed his commanding officer warily. It was possible that Mustang really was simply here to be nice, it did happen sometimes, but Ed highly doubted that was the case. It was the middle of the night, and there was no reason for the colonel to be visiting this late unless he wanted something.

 

Mustang patiently sat on the couch, and Ed knew that the colonel was waiting for him to come to him. What Ed really wanted to do was ignore the other man, but his stomach betrayed him by growling eagerly. He hadn't eaten all day, and his mouth was starting to salivate heavily at the prospect of food.

 

Sighing in defeat, Ed walked over and held his hands out for the food, but Mustang pulled the bag out of reach and gestured toward the empty space on the couch. Making a sound of exasperation, Ed plopped down onto the two-seater couch and was rewarded with the cup and bag. Bringing the cup to his mouth, Ed took a sip of the hot liquid, then positioned it between his legs before opening the sack and pulling out the paper-wrapped sandwich.

 

Mustang made himself more comfortable on the couch, putting one arm on the arm rest and the other on the back of the couch. Ed frowned when he felt the colonel begin caressing the back of his neck through his undone hair. The touch was soft, and, much to Ed's frustration, it felt good.

 

“You should wear it down more often,” the colonel murmured.

 

Ed shrugged, trying to rid himself of the desire to lean into the caress, and said shortly, “I don't like it in my face.”

 

Mustang ran his fingers through the teen's hair, then reached over and plucked the cup from between Ed's legs. “Closer,” he commanded.

 

“I'm already close to you,” Ed growled irritably. “What the hell do you want me to do? Sit on your fucking lap?”

 

“Actually, I would like that,” Mustang murmured.

 

Ed stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then made a sound of exasperation and scooted onto the colonel's lap. Really, he was much too old for this sort of thing... He shifted, trying to find a position that wasn't too uncomfortable, then held out his hand for the coffee.

 

Mustang passed it over, then wrapped one arm around Ed's shoulders, and used the other to rub Ed's leg. Ed rolled his eyes and started unwrapping his sandwich. The man was in his `I care about you even though I want to fuck you' mode. When Mustang nuzzled against Ed's cheek and gave him a small kiss, Ed whispered irritably, “I'm not a child; stop treating me like one.” But he made no move to physically stop the man. He was ashamed to admit it, but he needed the human contact more than he wanted the colonel to keep to himself.

 

“I'm very aware of that,” Mustang breathed, and Ed squirmed a little from the hot breath on his neck. Mustang's hand slid up Ed's leg and to his groin, where he fondled him through his pants. Ed gave a small, quick intake of breath, then quickly glanced to his brother's bed.

 

“Fuck!” Ed breathed in frustration as the man nibbled on his ear. This wasn't right. He just couldn't do this with his brother here. Even if Al was asleep, he just couldn't.

 

“That actually sounds good to me too,” Mustang murmured.

 

“I never said that sounded good,” Ed said, noting in angry humiliation that his body was at war with what he was saying.

 

“Your reactions say it all, Ed,” Mustang answered smoothly and moved to slip his hand inside of Ed's pants.

 

“You're going to make me spill my coffee,” Ed complained, hoping that the man would get the hint. It wasn't that Ed couldn't say `no', and it wasn't even that he couldn't say `no' to Mustang, it was just that he couldn't say `no' to Mustang when it came to this. He wanted to, but he just couldn't get himself to do so. The man's reaction wasn't worth the defiance.

 

Sighing, Mustang moved his head away from Ed's face, and returned his hand to Ed's leg before saying in an off handed way, “Your medical leave is almost gone.” Ed grunted and took a bite of the sandwich. He'd been using his sick leave to stay with Al, but the colonel was right, he only had two more days before he would need to return to work.

 

“I'll just apply for Emergency Family Leave,” he muttered around his sandwich, glad that the man had stopped treating him like a sex object long enough for him to eat his food. It was only a temporary respite, but at least it gave him time to think.

 

The colonel wrapped his arms around Ed's waist, idly fingering his wide, brown belt. “As I recall, your commanding officer needs to sign off on that.”

 

Ed positioned the coffee between his legs again so that he could use both hands for the sandwich, and frowned at Mustang's words. He didn't even need to look to know there was a small smirk on the bastard's face.

 

“Yeah, I'd heard that,” he said evenly, then took another bite.

 

Mustang sighed; a feigned sigh, Ed was sure. “We've been given quite a bit of work over these past few weeks, and another person would really help lift the slack from the rest of us...”

 

Ed took another sip of his coffee, then reached over, picked up the bag, and fished a napkin out of it. “So, you're saying that you're not going to sign the forms,” he said in a matter of fact voice while wiping his mouth. He wasn't stupid. He knew what game the colonel was playing, and he hated him for it.

 

“Well, I never said that I wouldn't sign the papers...” Mustang answered in a sly voice that made Ed want to punch him hard in the face. Instead, Ed ate the last bite of the sandwich and tossed the wrapper in the bag before crumpling the sack up and throwing it in the general direction of the garbage can. It was too dark in that corner to know if he'd made the shot or not; but then, he didn't really care right now.

 

He felt pressure in his chest as anger and hurt bubbled inside of him. How could Mustang be such a slime? How could he do this to him at a time like this? Yet despite that, he felt humiliation at wanting this to happen. He craved human contact right now. He needed it in a way he couldn't explain.

 

Really, he disgusted himself.

 

“So, what do you want? Let's get to the point, Mustang,” Ed said. Taking one last sip of the coffee, Ed leaned over and put the cup on the small table next to the couch. He could pretend like he didn't know what the colonel wanted, getting himself some hugging and kissing before they got to the meat of what Mustang was here for. The colonel might even get him off if Ed let him, but his shame was too great right now, and he couldn't chance Al waking up while he and Mustang were...

 

No, he couldn't chance that. No matter how lonely he felt. No matter what sick, depraved part of him wanted the touching and the holding, he couldn't let this go on too long in the same room Al was in.

 

The colonel let go and gave him a small push, not hard enough to actually do anything, but enough that Ed knew Mustang wanted him off his lap. He stood up and turned around to see Mustang making himself more comfortable on the couch and spreading his legs.

 

Ed's lips tightened in disgust. This was one of the things he hated doing most. He wanted to be with Al though, and so he'd have to pay the price. With a resigned sigh, he knelt down and crawled on his knees until he was between Mustang's legs, then he reached over and undid the pants. He glanced up at the colonel who was staring languidly down at him, then glanced to where Al was sleeping. What if his brother woke up while he was...

 

No.

 

No, it wouldn't happen. He had to tell himself that. A small touch on his cheek reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing. Turning back to face Mustang, Ed swallowed hard as the man let his fingers move lightly from Ed's cheek to the top of his head. The colonel petted his head a couple of times before applying pressure to the back of Ed's head—a small thing, but a gesture that meant he wanted Ed to get on with it.

 

Draping himself across the small amount of couch between himself and the man's crotch, Ed tentatively stuck out his tongue and dragged it hesitantly along the underside of the colonel's erection before letting the tip of his tongue circle around the head and over the slit. He tasted bitter-saltiness, and tried not to grimace.

 

It wasn't enough that he did this kind of disgusting stuff, but Mustang liked him to pretend that he enjoyed it as well. Usually he did a shitty job at pretending, and the colonel often let him know how bad of an act it was, but things always seemed to go worse if he showed how much he didn't like it. That's when the taunts and the mean words came.

 

So, generally, Ed kept a straight face through it all. If Mustang told him to moan, he would moan. If Mustang wanted him to ask for it, he asked for it. It was rarely a convincing act. Even if it did feel good, Ed hated showing it. He felt dirty enough when Mustang got him off; showing that it had felt good made him feel disgustingly filthy.

 

There had been one time he'd put on a convincing act; one time he'd really meant it... but, Ed didn't like to think about that night...

 

Slipping his mouth over the man's erection, Ed studiously did all the things the colonel had taught him to do over the years. Weaving his fingers into Ed's hair, Mustang held on tightly while rocking his hips, and the seventeen-year-old felt a morbid sense of satisfaction at this and at the fact that the colonel was softly moaning, “Yes, oh fuck, yes! Like that, Ed...” It was much better than, `Ed, this blowjob sucks ass. I can't believe how worthless you are. You can't do anything right, can you?'

 

When Mustang came, Ed involuntarily jerked his head back and gagged. The foul tasting slime that was spurting into his mouth seeped to the back of his throat and he desperately wanted to pull away, spit it out, and rinse his mouth. Instead, Mustang held onto his head tightly and commanded, “Swallow.”

 

Ed fought the urge to squirm away and reluctantly swallowed. He hated this part most of all. When the colonel finally released his head, Ed quickly got up and rushed to the bathroom where he hastily washed out his mouth. No matter how often he'd done that, he still couldn't get himself to stand the taste and feel of that stuff in his mouth.

 

Glancing up, Ed looked at himself in the mirror and grimaced. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and there were dark shadows under his eyes—all from too little sleep, he supposed. Water from washing out his mouth dripped from his chin, reminding him of what he'd just done, and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Tearing his eyes away from the mirror, Ed glanced over to the towel and wiped his face with it.

 

He didn't need a reminder.

 

He just wanted to forget. He wanted to pretend that his commanding officer wasn't a disgusting pervert who had wanted Ed to give him a blow job in front of his comatose brother. He wanted to pretend that he wasn't being used to satisfy someone else's sexual urges. Despite the fact that he had a brilliant mind, and he could fight better than almost anyone he knew, Ed didn't feel like anything special. In fact, he felt like a worthless excuse for life.

 

Some people thought he was great—Fullmetal Alchemist: Hero of the People—but if he was so great, then why would he let Mustang treat him like this? He didn't know, and he just wanted to pretend that he did know, and that he really would beat the shit out of the man as soon as he walked out of the bathroom.

 

Of course, it was all pretend. It was all just a lie. He really was weak. He really was worthless. And, no matter how much he didn't want it to continue, Ed would still allow Mustang to use him. Tears pricked at his eyes. He'd allow it because there were things that he wanted, goals he needed to meet, that he couldn't do without Mustang's help. He was trapped, but he hoped that after Al woke up they could leave—run away to Rizembool...

 

Maybe then he'd be able to live in peace. Perhaps he'd be able to get away from all the confusion he felt, away from all the pain. Of course, he'd never be able to get away from himself, but perhaps he'd be a marginally better person once they went back home. At least, he'd be able to pretend... right?

 

Suddenly he heard the door to his brother's room open and close, interrupting his thoughts. His head snapped up and he clenched his teeth together, staring in hurt anger at the door. So that was it. Mustang had gotten what he wanted and that was it. Taking a deep breath, Ed tried to push away all the feelings of hurt inside of himself, tried to make himself feel nothing. What did he care if Mustang was gone? He was glad the man was gone. He wished the colonel would never have shown up in the first place!

 

That's right... Ed thought despondently as he let himself out of the bathroom. I never wanted this in the first place... But despite those thoughts, he couldn't help feeling alone and empty. There has to be something wrong with me... he thought. Why else would he feel this way? Shouldn't he be happy that Mustang had left? He was, of course he was, but there was still some lingering sense that he was being cheated in the worst way.

 

Just what he didn't need—more confused thoughts and feelings.

 

He glanced over to where the man had been sitting, and saw a tan folder lying on the couch. Ed walked to the sofa and sat down before picking it up and holding it in his hands. He turned it over once before opening it.

 

Inside were a couple of forms and a small sticky note attached to the papers. Ed sighed heavily. This was his payment; it was what he'd sold himself for. Or, at least, this is what he'd sold himself for this night. Ed glanced over to where Al was lying on the bed.

 

No...

 

Al was what he'd really sold himself for. He'd given up so much so that Al could regain his body. This was just part of it, and in the whole scheme of things, it really was a small part. After a moment, Ed glanced back at the contents of the folder and told himself that it was worth it. It was all worth it... it was... of course it was... With a sigh, Ed stopped trying to convince himself, and read the note.

 

You were really good tonight.

You're finally beginning to be worth

what I'm paying you. These are

the forms for the Emergency

Family Leave. I'll be back tomorrow

to pick them up. I expect you'll

be willing to pay for my signature

as well.

 

There was no name, but he didn't expect there to be one either. Sighing, Ed took the note and put the folder aside. Getting up, he crossed the room to a small dresser and opened one of the drawers, pulling out a pen and a phone book. He blankly tore off the back cover of the telephone directory, then slowly and deliberately drew a transmutation circle. He didn't have to, but it was something to concentrate on—better than thinking about other things. When he was done, he placed the note in the center and touched the array.

 

Instantly the paper began to decompose, and soon there was only a small pile of dust on the phone book backing. For a moment he stared at the dust. He felt cold and numb, and for a moment, Ed considered using alchemy to end his life, just like he'd ended the paper's existence. Al was back to normal now. He'd be just fine. He'd have Winry and Aunt Pinako...

 

His lower lip trembled slightly as he tried to keep back the confused despair that filled him. He didn't want to pay for Mustang's signature tomorrow, but he also knew he would. Sometimes, before or after the man had gotten what he wanted, Mustang would lay there and simply hold him. It was those times that Ed wanted—needed—desperately; not necessarily with Mustang, in fact preferably not with Mustang, but that was all he had...

 

Al had been there in the past, of course, and sometimes Ed had snuggled up to his brother's metal body, but it had never been the same. The armor had been cold and empty, and Ed had felt like he was letting Al down at those times. He was the older brother. Al should come to him for comfort, not the other way around. He was supposed to be strong for his brother.

 

Ed stared balefully down at the small pile of ashes. Ed loved his brother, yet he couldn't help feeling angry at Al too—couldn't help feeling that this whole situation was partially his brother's fault...

 

Of course, that line of thought made him feel extremely guilty and he worked hard to push those feelings away. It wasn't Al's fault. It was his fault. If he wouldn't have tried to bring their mother back, then Al never would have lost his body. If Al would have never lost his body, then Ed would have never had to become a State Alchemist. If Ed hadn't ever become a State Alchemist, then he would have never had to deal with having Mustang as his commanding officer. And if Mustang would never have been his commanding officer, then...

 

Ed sniffled and blinked his eyes. All the evidence pointed to this being his own fault. It was just something that he'd have to deal with. He'd promised to get Al's body back, and he'd done what he'd needed to. That was all. Even so, anger always lay in the background of his mind. Anger at Mustang, anger at Al, anger at his mother, anger at his father, anger at himself, anger at the world... It was all there, but he tried to ignore it. Letting his anger out hadn't done him any good before; it was just better to keep it all inside.

 

A tear trickled slowly down his cheek. He felt so sick to his stomach. He didn't want to think about all of this. He just wanted some peace. Was that too much to ask for? With a shaky breath, Ed gently blew the dust away before clapping his hands and making the phone book whole again. In the process, he also rearranged the ink molecules so that they resembled a blob of spilled ink, rather than an array. It was better to leave no evidence. Better to stave off any questions before they came. Better to keep it secret.

 

Just like his life...

 

Returning the phone book, Ed moved over to the couch, laid down, and rested his arm over his eyes. He wanted to sleep but thoughts ran and stumbled in a jumbled heap in his head, keeping him awake. Finally, a small sob broke from him and he turned and curled tightly into a ball. He just wanted to forget! He just wanted the thoughts to go away! He just wanted to escape. But there was no escape; there was nowhere to run. Nowhere was safe, not even his own mind. He was trapped, and he just had to deal with it whether he liked it or not.

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Ed opened his eyes and blinked as the hospital ceiling came into focus. He was beginning to hate that damn ceiling. He squinted a little. The sun was shining brilliantly in through the window, proclaiming that today would be yet another bright and fucking cheerful day.

 

He sighed heavily and laid his arm over his eyes. He was so exhausted. Sleep was coming more often as he waited by Al's bedside. He'd been so eager at first, so sure that his brother would wake at any moment that he hadn't been able to sleep very well. Yet, now he was much less enthusiastic. Eight weeks of waiting did that to a person, he supposed.

 

Of course, it didn't help that he rarely left Alphonse's room. His once tanned skin had changed to a lighter, paler color, making him look as washed out as he felt. Sometimes Lieutenant Hawkeye brought him books to read—Ed didn't want to leave Alphonse even for the short amount of time it would take to go to the library—and sometimes Colonel Mustang brought him books.

 

At first, Ed had been disgruntled to realize that the books Hawkeye brought him weren't nearly as interesting as the ones Mustang brought. But then, Mustang was an alchemist, so he was aware of the types of subjects Ed generally studied. Over time though, Ed realized that if he told Hawkeye what subjects he liked, then her book choices became more interesting. It made him feel much better to enjoy Hawkeye's books more. Even though he accepted the books from Mustang, he didn't like to. He didn't like taking anything from Mustang. Even when he didn't have to `pay' for something that Mustang gave him, Ed hated accepting anything from the man.

 

But, even the books became drab after a while. It felt odd because he loved researching and studying—it was a passion of his—yet, as time passed, he found less joy in what he normally found so exciting.

 

Now, more often than not, Ed slept. After he'd gotten into the habit of sleeping days away without eating much, the nurses took it upon themselves to make sure he ate at least one meal a day. They provided him with three meals a day, but Ed rarely ate more than one. He just wasn't interested.

 

All he wanted to do anymore was sleep, so that's what he did. And what did it matter anyway? Al never woke, and Ed never went anywhere. Every once in a while someone would visit, though they never stayed long. Hawkeye came once every few days, though Ed thought she felt a little obligated to do it—perhaps some sort of mothering instinct...

 

It was Mustang that visited the most, and the visits got sort of predictable after a while. If the man came during the day, that generally meant that Ed was actually treated like a person. He didn't know if that was because the colonel was afraid of someone walking in, or what, but Ed had to admit, reluctantly, that those visits were sort of nice. Mustang never stayed very long, but he would ask after Al and make intellectual small talk, and Ed would feel a little of his old excitement over the research come back to him.

 

It never lasted long though.

 

Visits at night meant that Mustang wanted something from him. The man had no reservations about locking the door at night, not that it mattered since the nurses never came in the room at night. Ed hated those visits, and at first he'd tried to simply pretend he was asleep, hoping the man would go away without bothering him.

 

It didn't work.

 

Ed always felt a strong urge to go sleep somewhere else. A hotel, the dorms, even the street would be fine... just somewhere that he wasn't trapped, unsure if he was going to get a visit from Mustang or not.

 

Ed yawned and groaned softly. He felt like shit, though that could be from not eating enough to sleeping too much, or anything in between. He supposed that he'd have to—

 

“Are you awake?” a young voice asked curiously, breaking into his thoughts.

 

Startled, Ed tried to sit up, but given the position he'd been sleeping in, he ended up falling off the couch and landing heavily on the floor instead. He groaned loudly, rolled onto his hands and knees, and rubbed where his hip had connected painfully with the floor.

 

That same young voice started giggling, and Ed quickly scrambled to his feet. His heart beat quickly as excitement filled him. Ed rubbed his eyes when he saw Alphonse sitting up and staring bright eyed at him—he had to be sure it wasn't a dream...

 

“You're funny,” the little boy said while giggling into his hand.

 

“You're awake,” Ed breathed. His chest constricted painfully at the realization that what he'd been waiting for had finally happened. He'd been so worried. He'd thought that his brother might never wake up.

 

The boy nodded and after a few more moments of giggling, he looked around, frowned, and asked, “Where am I?” His gaze turned back to Ed. “And... who are you?”

 

Ed froze and for a moment his heart seemed to stop beating. Who was he? Those were definitely not the words he'd thought he would hear when Al woke. Maybe this was a joke? But then, Al wasn't the type to play those kinds of jokes. Cautiously, Ed answered, “You're at the hospital, and... Al... you know who I am...right?” He swallowed a lump in his throat as he waited for Al to answer.

 

The little, sandy-haired boy narrowed his eyes and stared at Ed in thoughtful silence. Ed waited and after a few long minutes, Al shook his head and gave him an apologetic look. At that, Ed quickly walked over to the bed and pulled up a chair. Sitting down, he said painfully, “I'm Ed, Al. I'm your brother.”

 

The boy's eyes widened and he searched Ed's face in shock and surprise. “But...brother is only a year older than me...you can't be...”

 

Another lump formed in Ed's throat, and his eyes burned with the threat of tears. This wasn't a joke. Al really didn't remember... None of it. Al didn't remember any of it...

 

His mouth felt dry and he had to swallow a few times before he could speak. “What's the last thing you remember?” he asked in a worried whisper.

 

“Me and brother we were... we were trying to get mom back...” the boy whimpered, then looked down at his lap and began threading and unthreading his fingers.

 

With a sigh, Ed leaned on the bed and said, “We... failed, Al.” Ed stopped suddenly. How could he tell his brother all of what happened? It was just... it was just too horrible... If he didn't feel that he had to, Ed wouldn't. Al would be much happier not knowing, but... A thought came to him. His brother was smart and inquisitive. He'd find out sooner or later. Maybe it would be best if he heard it from his own brother.

 

“We couldn't bring her back,” he choked out. “I... you... I lost your body when it happened, but I managed to attach your soul to that armor in the corner.” Ed stopped. His eyes stung fiercely with unshed tears and he blinked rapidly to keep them at bay.

 

Al stared at him in silent shock, trying to digest it all.

 

“It wasn't free,” Ed said after a couple moments. This was so hard. “Equivalent exchange and all.” He tapped his leg. “I lost this when you lost your body, and I lost this...” He held up his right arm. “When I attached your soul to the armor.” When Al only gave him a look of confusion, Ed pulled off his glove and slid his sleeve down so that his brother could see.

 

“Automail?” Al asked slowly, a look of horror on his face.

 

Ed nodded and sniffled. “Yeah. Aunt Pinako and Winry's work.”

 

Alphonse gave him a sympathetic look before reaching out and touching it cautiously. “Did it hurt?” the boy asked softly. Al's eyes were moist, and worried sadness was painted across his face.

 

Again, Ed nodded and said quietly, “Yeah, but you know why I got it?” The boy shook his head and when he blinked, one small tear trickled down his cheek. “Because I needed to find a way to get your soul back to your body, and I couldn't do that with only one leg and one arm.”

 

The small boy's face crumpled. “It was my fault?” Al asked, and his little body shook as a small sob broke from him.

 

Ed moved onto the bed and quickly wrapped his arms around his brother. It hurt to see his brother so upset. “No! This isn't your fault!” he cried, his own tears spilling over. “This was my fault! I should never have made you try human transmutation! I should have listened to you!”

 

“But, you said...” Al whimpered.

 

“It was worth it to give my arm to save you, and it was worth the pain of getting automail to make you whole again,” Ed whispered fiercely. “Don't you ever think otherwise!” No matter how much Ed doubted some of his sacrifices at times, he would never let Al think that what Ed had done for him wasn't worth it—even if he didn't know the whole story. Ed tightened his hold on Al, bringing him closer into the embrace. “I would do anything for you, Al! You're my brother! I love you so much!” More than you'll ever know, Ed thought desperately.

 

The two of them held each other for a time, how long Ed didn't know, but finally Al pulled away and stared up at him with red eyes. “How come I can't remember anything since then?” he asked in a frightened tone.

 

“I don't know. I wish I did,” Ed whispered hoarsely. “I—”

 

At that moment, one of the nurses came in. When she saw Al was awake, she rushed out of the room. Ed and Al looked at each other for a moment before she came bustling back in followed by a couple of doctors who insisted on doing a few tests.

 

Ed gave Al a regretful look and hesitantly moved out of the way as one of the doctors began asking his brother questions. Al was alive and awake, and for that, Ed was grateful. Really he was. But why couldn't Al remember anything? It just didn't seem fair. After all they'd gone through together...

 

He watched Al with a heaviness in his heart. After everything, he'd finally put Al's soul back in his body, but in doing so, he'd lost his brother again. The brother he'd traveled with and shared so much with over the last few years was gone. At that thought, he felt a sharp pain in his chest and an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and loss.

 

It was so unfair.

 

As much as he tried to stop them, the tears came, and he quickly got up and hurried to the bathroom so that Al wouldn't see. Shutting the door, Ed grabbed one of the towels, slid to the floor, and buried his face in the cloth to muffle his sobbing.

 

Al had always been there; had always been a constant source of support, but now Ed had little hope his brother's memory would ever return. That seemed to have been added into the trade without their knowledge, or perhaps, without his knowledge. It was possible that Al had included that in the bargain without telling Ed, but now he'd never know.

 

--

 

Child abuse, or any kind of abuse, is a serious issue. If you, or someone you know, is being abused, please find someone you can trust and tell them