A/N: Thanks SO MUCH to Lepas on deviantart for the wonderful cover picture! Here is a link to the original (as always, just take out the spaces and parenthesis): lepas. deviantart (.com) /art/transmutation-circle-128544860

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. I won't lie, though; I wish I did.


Brother sinks when the pressuring weight of responsibility lies on his mismatched shoulders for too long, but he has sunk to an abysmal low this time. I can see it in the desperation that claws at his too rigid frame. The standard curfew for lights out in the military dorms has long since passed, but Brother stays at the desk reading through a stack of alchemy books in the moonlight. He hasn't stopped studying since lunch.

It is nearly midnight now.

"Brother, you really need to get some sleep," I try halfheartedly, not sure if my voice will even break through his concentrated focus. I want my body back, yes, but I don't want him to kill himself over it. Honestly, I feel like the more mature brother half the time.

As predicted, Brother didn't hear me. "Brother," I speak louder, coming up behind him and waving my gauntlet between his face and the page. "You need to sleep. You can't keep pushing yourself like this. Even Colonel Mustang asked me if you needed time off to rest."

He blinks and stares dully at my hand as if not seeing it. Blearily, Brother drags his gaze up my arm till his eyes meet my soul fire eyes. He doesn't seem to see me, and I wonder if he had been reading at all or just staring blankly at the book for the past half hour. Thinking back on it, he hasn't turned a page for some time.

"I can work a little longer, Al," Brother protests. I can tell he is reluctant to succumb to the depths of unconsciousness where dreams and nightmares alike can creep into his vulnerable mind and torment him. "I might actually find something useful this time."

In the absence of a mouth to frown with, I make my voice as disapproving as I can so he knows what I think of his hackneyed argument. "If you're asleep on the books, how are you supposed to read anything new?"

"I wasn't asleep," he mumbles darkly. Mom always said I could sense the thunder before the lightning. I guess she was right, at least when it comes to Brother. Something feels off, but since I don't know what it is, I ignore the feeling.

Tackling the toughest task at present, I consider what to do to get Brother into bed. I don't want to cozen him, but Brother often gives me few options when he is this tired. "Fine, but at least get in bed so when you do fall asleep, I don't have to carry you over."

With a groan of compliance, he swipes the book off the desk, shoves the chair in, and clomps to the bed before collapsing on the blankets with a heavy sigh. His eyes start to close and his fingers loosen on the book cover.

"At least take your boots off," I chide.

Brother mumbles something into the mattress. It takes me a moment to put the fragments together into coherency. "You sound so much like Mom sometimes it's scary." But Brother does as he is told, even sitting up long enough to remove his coat and shirt, leaving on his singlet. Crumpling onto the bed again, he inches his way up the mattress. I help him under the blankets. The book falls to the floor with a clunk.

He releases a long, weary breath, eyelids closing over dull gold. "G'nigh', Al…"

"Sleep well, Brother."

With him so tired, I figure it will be an undisturbed night. At least I hope.

I have never been more wrong.

It starts as a series of movements. Brother tends to sleep restlessly, always turning over and twisting – even his automail twitches – so I take no notice of it. I sit against the wall and meditate away the fears and deafening quiet that always scares me so much in the time between dusk and dawn.

But Brother's movements get more violent. He has only been asleep for a few hours, and already he is prisoner to his suppressed demons.

I don't worry too much until I hear my name called out in the most painfully pleading manner I have ever heard.

"…Al…Alphonse…Ah…Al, no…"

Normally he screams, not mutters, and he never calls my name.

My nonexistent heart tightens.

"Brother," I move toward him, intent on calming him without waking him if possible. "I'm right here. I'm fine now. You're okay too. It's only a nightmare now." Yeah right. "Please calm down. We're okay."

"No…Al!…AL!" Brother's eyes snap open. He stares at me with uncensored panic. As far as I know I am the only one who can calm him down during a nightmare. This time, however, my presence only seems make it worse because as I move closer he sits up abruptly.

"Brother," I start, but a strangled sob catches in the back of his throat, stopping me.

Brother drops out of bed onto his hands and knees. I reach for him, panicking now, but he pushes past me, dry sobbing and borderline hysterical. He claws through his coat till he produces a pack of chalk. All alchemists keep a small packet of chalk on them, and this habit has not died in either me or Brother despite our circleless alchemy.

Shaking and breathing erratically, he presses the white tip to the hardwood and begins to draw. He completes a semicircle before his unsteady hand breaks the stick in half. With a cry of frustration, he snatches the package of chalk and tears it open completely. Chalk clatters to the floor, some sticks breaking or chipping. Brother grabs one and brushes the rest aside violently. He continues with his frantic drawing.

It isn't until he completes the outer circle and starts on the familiar complex runes that I realize exactly what he is doing.

"BROTHER, NO!" I surge forward and pull him back. "Brother, what are you thinking?!"

He struggles in my grasp. His elbows bang against my chest plate, and the chalk in his hand drops to the floor. "Let me go, Al!" he demands between panting breaths. "Let go of me!"

"Edward, no, stop this!" I hug him to me in an effort to restrain him. He still thrashes against me, gaining a few centimeters of space by jamming his automail arm like a wedge between himself and me and prying my arms away bit by bit. I am terrified of accidentally crushing him, but I can't let go. What he was drawing, what I know he was trying to do…I stare in horror at the partially complete human transmutation circle.

"Why are you doing this?" I beg, backing away from the array and dragging my squirming brother with me in my arms. "I thought we were done with this. Never again, right, Ed? So what are you doing?!"

Brother dry sobs some more, his energy spent on hysteria. He stops trying so hard to get away, but he bangs his free automail against my arms. The metal against metal makes a horrifically hollow sound. "I can't stand it, Al," he wails. "I can't watch you suffer anymore! It's my fault you're in this body, so I have to be the one to fix it."

"Brother," I'm still panicked, but I'm the only one in the room with any semblance of sanity left. What Brother is suggesting…I have to talk sense into him before he manages to complete this stupid act of self-sacrifice.

"Please let me do this. Let me do my part as an older brother for once, and make you whole again. I can't stand to see you suffering anymore."

My grip loosens slightly at the confession, the plea, but Brother just sags against me, shaking with stifled sobs. He always tries so hard not to cry just because he doesn't think it's fair for him to if I can't.

But the emptiness in the sound of each of his shallow breaths scares me. I always knew Brother would give his life in trade for my body if he didn't know it would kill me inside, but never before have I heard him sound so desperate. Even if I don't blame him for That Day, he still blames himself, and it has been consuming him piece by piece, and now he's at the end. There's nothing left.

I stare at the array, glad it's incomplete and scuffed up now. My mind is scattered from the panic, but I search for the right words to say to keep Brother from ever trying this again. All that I can think of is the same ones as always, but I say them anyway. "You've done so much for me already; you don't have anything to prove to anyone. If you were to- to transmute yourself in payment for my body, I would just be suffering even more. So please don't," a metallic sob vibrates my armor, "Brother, please."

Brother loses all his energy at that and falls limp in my grasp, although his breath still comes in hiccupped heaves. He's still trying so hard not to cry, and the effort is tearing him down. "I have to do something," he says. His exhaustion and guilt is built up in his heart; I know because I can feel it weighing him down. It hurts me to see him like this. There are times when I almost feel phantom tears on cheeks I don't have any more.

"Brother?" I ask tentatively, my voice shaking through my armor.

Brother sits still, unable to properly answer without breaking down.

"There is something you can do, if you would." I know I don't need to ask, but sometimes words need to be said and not just felt.

Brother nods, "I'll do anything," he gasps.

"Brother," I strain so hard to keep my armor from rattling in empty sobs, "I can't cry, but I want to. I know you said you wouldn't, but- would you cry… just this once, for both of us?"

Brother stills with a heartbroken gasp. Then, without preamble, he leans against my chest plate and begins to sob – really sob. The tears glass over his eyes, and when he blinks they fall onto his singlet. His whole body shakes violently as if releasing the pent up emotions of a lifetime of tragedy. All I can do is listen to his heartbroken wails, but when his rampaging emotions begin to subside he curls in on himself and lets me hold him in my lap.

We are broken, hopeless, and, I think at times, too far gone to repair, but we have each other. Even if we fall apart sometimes, we will never let each other become empty inside. It's too hard to stay strong forever without someone to hold you. For now I'll hold Brother together, and when I have my body back, he'll have his chance to finally hold me.


-Dante