Disclaimer: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist or any of its characters.

Frozen World

Some say the world will end in fire.
Some say in ice.
- Robert Frost "Fire And Ice"

It was cold. So very cold.

But I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing in this metal, unfeeling body of mine.

Brother's violent shivering and his occasional muttered curses were the only companions I had in the darkness of this cave.

The wind from outside howled recklessly, clawing and screaming against my ears. If I had any. It screeched and shrieked, echoing in this tiny cave, a constant reminder that we were far from safety.

Even in the dark, I could see the frightful paleness of Brother's face, his golden strands a stark contrast to the ghastly features of his skin. His eyes, normally alight with attentiveness and pride, were now dulled and weary without strength. His teeth clacked and chattered loudly, the only sound I could hear aside from the wind. He burrowed what he could underneath his jacket, the only protection he had against the chill.

His metal limbs hung limp at his side, nothing but an inconvenient hassle to him. I felt him shift, a worn gloved hand pressing against his useless arm, squeezing it tight, desperately trying to press some warmth to his skin. I might have imagine it, but I thought I heard him flinch in pain at his own touch.

Suddenly, I remembered the doctor warning Brother not to stay out in this kind of weather for longer than a few hours. Otherwise, his metal limbs would freeze the areas where his body connected with the metal. It would be excruciatingly painful and cause more lasting damage to Brother.

It had been more that a few hours, I took note, as much as I wished I could forget or discard the information entirely, if it had never existed. Better to be ignorant than to know. Better to forget than to face the hard facts. Still, the bitter truth seized me and refused to let go, as cruel and demanding it was.

I wouldn't be surprised if Brother already knew of this. He would know better than anyone else, as he is the one enduring the biting cold and not me. I ached to offer some warmth, any kind of comfort to him. It hurt me to see him suffering in silence. It hurt more to know that I was utterly useless in this situation.

There was little I could say. I murmured some words in order to reassure him. That the storm would be over soon. That he could imagine being back in a nice, warm home, drinking hot chocolate by a merry fire. At that, Brother jokingly replied that Mustang would be useful for once if he was here. I could see his breath misting the frigid air as each word whispered past from his chapped, blanched lips.

He licked them in an effort to keep them moist. I should have told him that it would only make them drier. His tongue was parched, I could see. A dry, lolling thing. Longing for a drop of water. It seemed like so long ago when we sat in the doctor's office, Brother drinking his warm soup and munching on steaming hot bread. If only we didn't lose our suitcase in this storm.

I accidentally brushed a hand across his cheek and he unconsciously recoiled from my ever cold touch. I froze, bowing my head in shame, forgetting that I was in this metal cage. While in this jail, I could touch Brother. But I cannot feel him. I could not feel his skin. Nor his warmth. But he could feel my coldness.

This cold, oh so very cold that radiated from me. I hated this body. I couldn't even touch my own brother without unintentionally bringing more misery to him.

Quickly, I uttered an apology, looking away. I couldn't bear to see the pain rippling across his waxen face. And I couldn't face the condemning gaze in his hollow eyes.

Instead, Brother lightly punched my arm (I was stunned at the lack of strength behind it) and grinned up at me, assuring me that he was only surprised, that he wasn't expecting me when I had made contact with him. That was all. He even loudly repeated himself a few times, trying to laugh through the silence. Whether it was to convince me or himself, I wasn't so sure.

My brother. The greatest liar in the world.

Even so, his lies could only hold up for so long.

I could see that his eyes faltered slightly and his jaw clenched tighter as he huddled closely to me, in an attempt to be shielded from the wind and the cold. He must be choking back a cry of pain. His face was so pale, it could almost blend into the ivory pallidness of the snow wall to his side. I feared that he would soon turn into an ice sculpture, frozen in time.

But if that happened, what would I do then? How could I tell Winry, Granny Pinako, Master and the others? Would I even have the chance to tell them? My life is tied to Brother's, intertwining and united. If he died, so would I. And even if I didn't die immediately after, I would die soon enough. Brother is my stronghold, my constant, my tower. Without him, I would crumble. I would be lost. I would die.

Please, I pleaded to whom may be listening to the prayers of this empty shell. Spare Brother. Let him survive this. Let him live.

His shivers continued to rake through my body, more so than before. Echoing deep inside of me. Ringing, ringing, ringing inside of me constantly.

And yet, it was a comfort to me. As unpleasant as it sounded.

That Brother is still alive.