A/N: I don't own FMA. Post-Transmutation.


Go to Sleep


"Ed," Al's voice came soft and gentle, childish like it had been. It was ruined by the telling metallic echo. Things were not as they had been. "You should go to sleep."

"Sleep?" His throat was hoarse, eyes puffy from crying and crying and crying. "Why should I sleep when you can't?"

"Brother..."

"I know!" he yelled. His remaining flesh foot hit the wall hard, and he winced at the pain. But it didn't matter. Al couldn't even feel the pain. So shouldn't he instead relish in this feeling? Shouldn't he feel that he deserves this pain?

He didn't. That worried him more than anything else.

"I know I should go to sleep," he whispered, looking down. The words were spoken more to himself than to Al. "I know I should."

"But?" A heavy weight pressed against the part of the bed next to him. Al had sat down.

He looked away.

"But I don't want to."

He thought he would hear a hiss of frustration, or a sharp intake of breath, to show that Al was frustrated. It didn't come. It didn't come because Al couldn't breathe anymore, couldn't feel the air coursing through his lungs, just like this when he breathed in and out, in and out, like Winry's parents had always told him to when they were able to sting him with a needle.

"Ed, don't be stubborn."

He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Brother, please. Go to sleep. You can't stay awake for me like this!"

He shook his head furiously.

"Please," Al whispered. "You're only hurting me more."

Cautiously, he turned his head to Al. Opened his eyes. Nothing prepared him for the pain he felt at the sight of the metallic suit of armor, rather than his little brother's flesh face. He somehow felt distant, though. Like this was all happening to someone else. It didn't feel real.

Yesterday, just yesterday, things had been fine.

Things would never be the same.

He found himself gasping, gasping for breath. His throat was choking, and his chest felt tight. Liquid was coming from his eyes. So. He was crying again.

"Brother..."

"I know, Al. Could you just..." A hitch in his throat. "Could you just..."

Go away. The words remained unspoken, because he knew it would only hurt his little brother more. Hurt him not like his foot was hurting, but inside. He couldn't do that to Al.

"Just what?" Al's voice was slightly hysterical, as if he knew exactly what the answer would be. Ed looked away. The sobs became smaller sniffles, and he tried to keep it all in again.

"I'm scared, Al," he found himself saying, instead of keeping it all in. Al didn't say anything. "I'm scared I'll forget."

"Forget?" his little brother whispered.

"This pain." He clutched his chest desperately with his single remaining hand, where his heart was. "I'm scared I'll wake up and think that everything's normal, that I'll forget about you. That I'm a monster."

"You're not a monster!" Again, he imagined what his little brother's wide-eyed expression would look like. Instead, when his eyes went searching to where Al was, he only met impassive metal.

He choked, and felt the water in his eyes again.

"I am, Al. I did this to. I made you into this." He touched the cold metal. "It won't ever go back to normal, because of what I did."

He felt how Al froze when he touched his metal body. He knew Al was scared of hurting him, too, that his little brother was scared he couldn't control his new-found strength.

"See?" he said bitterly. "I'm supposed to be the older brother, and here you are worrying about me." He turned away. "If I go to sleep, maybe I'll forget. And not care so much. I can't do that."

"Brother." Surprisingly, he felt a leather hand now encompassing his own that was laid against Al's chest. "You won't forget. I won't let you forget."

He thought how much those words would hurt Al to say. Instead of being reassuring and gentle, it was a harsh promise. But it was what he needed.

"Thanks, Al." He tried to let his hand slide away from Al's leather grip, but for some reason it was caught. He frowned and tried to pull it away, but then realized a moment later that Al was holding it there intentionally. He squinted at his little brother. "Al?"

"Ed. I know it's not going to go back to normal. But I... I want my body back. I can't cry right now. So I won't let you forget."

His eyes widened.

"Al..."

"Go to sleep." Al let his hand fall now, gently dropping it to the bed. "I can't sleep anymore, but you need to. So please."

"I..." he gulped. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll go to sleep." And he could feel how his eyelids drooped already, how much his body did need it. But wasn't that wrong? If Al couldn't go to sleep...

His head already touched the pillow. He could hear heavy footsteps, leaving the room. He felt like crying again, but no, he couldn't do that. He had to get Al's body back, not cry and hope and wish for what couldn't happen.

"Good night, Brother."

The lights turned off, and he went to sleep.