My nights are lonely, brother. Ever since that day, I have spent each night staring into space (or at you) waiting for the first rays of sun which never seemed to come. Every second seems impossibly long as the rest of the world is dead (yet still more alive than me). It isn't that I get tired - no that is definitely not the case (even though you have no idea how much I want to feel weariness in my body again) - my metal body doesn't let me. I can't feel the grass under my feet or the warmth of your hand, brother. I can't smile or frown or cry. This isn't really living. I am just an empty shell; a ghost trapped between two worlds. Sometimes I wonder if I really am anymore.
But as I look upon you, my brother, your exhausted body adorned with bruises and scars from the last battle (one is never too far away) guilt courses through me. For brother, you do all of this, put yourself through so many trials with just one goal in mind. To get my body back. Brother, as I listen to your steady breath (in and out and in and out) I marvel at your selflessness - you are so willing to sacrifice everything for others. If it is particularly quiet outside, I can hear your heartbeat (da-dum da-dum da-dum) and I can't help but smile (mentally) at the sound. It is stubborn, brother, just like you!
Sometimes during the night, I come and kneel by your bed, dear brother, carefully, so not to make a sound, but even with all my effort this armour clanks and resonates, piercing the silence and making me cringe inwardly (I say inwardly - for when is is not - ha!). I freeze as you shift slightly, muttering something unintelligible (a sign that you're having a dream brother - after all these years I've learnt what each gesture means - I know you better than you know yourself!) and only move again when I'm sure you won't wake. And I stay there all night until daybreak, longing to brush back the hair that has fallen over your face, brother, but daring not. Not in this body with the cold metal and harsh leather.
You know brother, I hate it when anyone calls you short. For brother, in my eyes you are the tallest person there is. I always have and will look up to you brother. Do you remember when I used to be scared of thunder? You would slip into my bed at night and hold me tight as I clung to your shirt as if my life depended on it. Then there was that time when we were at the doorstep waving Mom off because she had to go somewhere and we would be home alone for the first time. She was so worried that she almost cancelled the trip, but then you stuck your chest out and stood proudly in front of me, and said "Don't worry Mom, I'll protect Al." And you have brother, to this day.
My nights are long, brother. But as I watch you sleeping, dear brother, your exhausted body adorned with bruises and scars from the last battle (one is never too far away) warmth courses through my soul, and I don't feel alone anymore. For brother, you do all of this, put yourself through so many trials with just one goal in mind. To get my body back. You do so much for me brother. You are my friend, my companion, my protector. You wake in the dead of night to give me company, you smile to reassure me, you pat my head as if it isn't hollow metal. When you look at me, you don't see the armour like everyone else: you see me. And you should know, brother, that I would do anything for you.
But my gaze again falls on your broken body. It was close again today. I have lost count of the times we've gotten away by mere luck. Every time, when the Colonel's team arrives in the nick of time, a blade hits your automail instead of flesh or when a bullet misses, half an inch to your left...(too close)...it feels as if my heart stops. What if something were to happen to you, brother? What would I do? I live for you, brother. So that's what I do. You promised that you would get my body back, brother and every time you say that to me, I reply by saying that we'll get your arm and leg too. But when I say that, my dear brother, I make a promise to myself - to protect you.
Brother, I would rather spend the rest of my life as a soul without a body; as this unfeeling armour, than live a life, brother, without you in it.