Okay, I'm really sorry about the quality of this fic (especially the ending) but I needed to post Something because I have some semi-important things to say. The proper story has quite a few more little things that need to happen, and I should be able to get that up and fix this all. But if not, you're stuck with this.

I'll put the notes at the bottom for people who actually follow my stories. If you don't want to read them, then just read this poor excuse of a story.
Thanks for clicking!
-Alex

Name: Alphonse Elric

Age: 13

Health Issues/ Allergies: None knew.

Known Family: Edward Elric (older brother). Trisha Elric (Mother, deceased), Van Hohenheim (Currently serving time for child abuse, attempted murder, and murder.)

Personal History/ Notes: born in Resenbool, lived with mother, father and older brother for seven years until the time of mother's death. Moved to amestres for Father's job.

Was homeschooled through middle school by a neighbor, thus has no official school records.

It too that Alphonse is not separated from his older brother. His personality is much calmer, but separation has still lead to anxiety.

Name: Edward Elric

Age: 14

Health Issues/ Allergies: Automail arm (right), Automail leg (left) prefers not to drink milk, possibly lactose intolerant. Currently has burns on his back and left arm that needs to be treated regularly.

Known Family: Alphonse Elric (younger brother). Trisha Elric (Mother, deceased), Van Hohenheim (Currently serving time for child abuse, attempted murder, and murder)

Personal History/ Notes: born in Resenbool, lived with mother, father and younger brother for seven years until the time of mother's death. Moved to meters for Father's job.

Was physically, and mentally abused from the age of nine. Has no recorded broken bones or hospital visits other than automail. His various bruises, cuts, and burns have been photographed and documented.

Was homeschooled through middle school by a neighbor, thus has no official school records.

Is extremely overprotective of the brother, it is suggested that they are not separated. Past attempts at separation have to lead to violence and a small mental breakdown. Edward seems to think that he and his brother are in danger, dispute several people telling him otherwise.

Has not spoken for five years. Has extremely violent tendencies. Stubborn. Will not eat, or stay on assigned property. Has hurt other children when they came to close, shouted, or touched him.

Handle with extreme caution.

When Riza and Maes suggested that I adopt a child, I never really thought I would. I was always more of the Forever a Batchler type. No family. No responsibility. Nothing to worry about while I am at work, or have to take care of...

Heck, when I walked into the orphanage last week I didn't intend to actually find a child to take with me, let alone two.

Yet here I am, signing the final papers before I take two boys, brothers, home with me. Cause all I need in my life is more stress aside from my job.

Maes had better not leave me to deal with them alone.

I walk back over to the desk and hand my clipboard to the lady. She takes it from me without looking up and waves me down a hall to the left of the desk.

"They're in room 362," she mumbles. "I still don't think you should take them home. Al is a good kid, but his brother is atrocious, I don't see why they haven't beaten it out of him yet " I ignore the comment, biting back sharp "someone already tried" or a "maybe if someone had have taken the time to check on the reports of screaming children coming from his house, it wouldn't have gotten that bad"

The hall is empty. Doors with little black numbers line the walls, quiet voices of children anywhere from infant to 17 are hearable In almost every room.

At almost the end of the hall, the rooms that they assign to troublesome children, I finally reach my destination. A smallish, 12×12 room that serves as a home for the Elric brothers. The blinds are closed but I can make out two fingers sitting on beds on either side of the almost empty room. They deserve better than this. They have already been through so much...I had seen Al already. About three months ago he had come to the station claiming that his father was abusive and needed to be stopped.

We had sent someone down to check it out, but they had come up empty-handed. It seemed to be just a single father living with his two sons; a jumpy, happy schoolboy, and his brother. The boy who had been traumatized by his mother's death and stopped talking altogether. No one thought anything of it, and crime in the city keeps us busy enough without having to deal with one possibly abusive father.

No one called in about Ed's screaming the night after we left the man with a warning. Of course, after the fact, almost every neighbor claimed to have heard screaming coming from that house regularly. Only Ed's screaming. Never screams from Al. Apparently, Al reminded the man of his late wife and thus didn't hurt him.

A little over a month later the house burned down and Alphonse was found on the sidewalk, cradling a bleeding and burned blonde. No one reported the cause of the fire, and the boy's father was found drunken under a tree a few blocks from there. He was quickly arrested and sent to jail.

There is only one voice coming from this room as I raise my hand the first time. Seeing as Edward doesn't talk, it makes perfect sense. My hand raises three more times before I actually tap on the door. The voice inside stills. A moment later I can hear the creaking of springs in a cheap bed, then the door opens.

Edward doesn't look like the quiet, traumatized, abused child that I was expecting, not the overly angry violent runaway he just looks...kind of empty.

Most of his long, golden hair is pulled back in a braid, but his bangs hang in his face, hiding his eyes. His posture is stiff and defense shoulders tense under the long red coat. He shifts his combat boot covered feet and sharpens his glare when he sees who I am, having probably expected an overseer or something along those lines. Possibly another orphaned child.

"I finished with the papers for your adoption," even if I have not yet talked to these boys, I know some others have. Riza and Maes being among them. So I know that they know who I am. "If you're ready we can go," I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe another glare. Possibly a shrug or a comment from Alphonse.

What I didn't expect was a snarl and the door slamming in my face, followed by a cry of Ed's name from his brother.

Well, that turned out well.

I wait for a moment, listening to Al scolding Ed, before knocking again. Technically I can just walk in, but they don't need another reason to mistrust me. This time, the younger boy answers.

"Sorry about my brother," he says with a sad smile. "He doesn't like the idea of going anywhere with anyone. Especially a man, after...that ... It'll take a while to trust you completely. Me too, for that matter," he gives me a -if-you-hurt-him-i-will-kill-you glare. I nod. "Do you want to come in for a minute?"

"No. If you're ready to go then I might as well stay out here. It's nearly dinner time. Are your things ready?" I sneak a glance past Alphonse to look at Edward sitting on the bed next to a suitcase, knees pulled up to his chest and glaring at the blank, white wall.

"We weren't able to bring much from our old house," Al whispers following my line of sight, smile fading of his face. "The house burned down if you didn't know. I managed to get our emergency bag out of our room before I had to... get him," yes I already knew that. If Al knew that I had been one of the ones who had forgotten about their case, passed it off as his paranoia, he would probably never forgive me. As it was I would probably never forgive myself.

"I am sorry that you had to go through that," I say, watching Ed as he tries to stare a hole In the wall. "You shouldn't have had to... Neither one of you should have had to live there at all,"

"It was never that bad for me... Brother was the only one father ever punished, even if I did something wrong or that he didn't like, he would punish brother instead," like that night "When I was little I just thought that brother was a strange, quiet person. I never thought... It took me so long to realize that something was wrong. He hid it so well..." Edward finally tears his glare away from the wall and fixes it back on me.

"Anyway!" The younger boy's smile is back. "it's time to go, Ed. Do you want me to carry the bag?" Edward shakes his head and stands slowly, trying to hide a wince, and picked up the bag then goes to stand behind his brother.

"Are you sure you have everything?" I ask again. Al smiles and Es continues glaring at me.

How would one handle a child with extreme caution?

The move in went much smoother than I thought it would. The boys had unpacked their meager belongings, and we had even gone shopping for a few more clothes and basic other needs. Alphonse settled in fine, but Ed was a whole different matter.

I learned quickly that he was mostly silent and generally cross unless 1) I got to close to his brother; If that happened you could be sure that there would be a very angry blonde tornado around the house, or 2) if Ed was startled or touched, or even if I said something the wrong way, he would panic and disappear into his and Al's room for days. His second favorite place was the bathtub for some reason, maybe it made him feel safer. I couldn't enter their room without having him upset. I could not talk to him either.

He would get upset about the strangest things too. I had once offered him a notebook to write it if he couldn't talk he could at least write things down, right? Wrong. When I handed the book to him at dinner one night, he had quickly pushed it back with a panicked, jerky shove.

I also had a hard time getting him to eat. Meal times were extremely difficult until I learned that if he himself had cooked it, he would sneak little bits every once and a while when he thought I wasn't looking. That and giving Al little snacks during the day were the best way to get the older boy to eat. As long as Ed didn't see me eat anything, he was okay with eating it.

It took me a while to think of a reason for this, finally, I asked Al.

"Father never let him eat during meals," he said with a shrug from the couch, where he was reading. Ed had been cooking. "If he ever caught Ed eating he would get punished. I started sneaking food to him every night. It just became a thing that we did. I know that he's hungry all the time, but...I think the fear outweighs it,"

On top of that, he didn't sleep well at all. I thought it strange when I realized it, but the more I get to know them the more it makes sense. Edward and Alphonse always slept in the same bed, with Ed curled up against his brother's back, one hand held protectively on his shoulder. Or, at least that was how they started.

Edward waking up from a nightmare quickly became a regular wake up call for me. I could hear the screaming, sobbing whimpers from across the hall every night, and had to live with the fact that I could do nothing about it. Only Al's soothing voice and gentle, warm cradling could calm Ed down from that place of hysterical fear.

I had only seen any of Edward's scars once when I had apparently knocked the unlatched door of Edward and Alphonse's room open one morning.

Every day, first thing after breakfast, Al would go to the hall closet and pull out the necessary supplies for changing the bandage on Ed's back. Then they would, probably, sit on the bed and change the bandages. I had seen the old ones in the kitchen trash one time, covered in sickly yellow slimy stuff.

Thinking that they were reading, I had pushed the door open to see Ed squirming under his brother's hands.

Half of his back and up to his left shoulder and even a bit of his neck was covered in raised, dark red flesh. His arms had hand shaped bruises and tiny scars littering them, all the way down to his fingers. No wonder he wore the gloves all the time.

He hisses a bit and arches his back when Al smears on some almost clear cream. "Sorry, brother," Al whispers in apology. "They're getting better though, soon maybe we can stop this all together," Edward nods a bit and lowers his head in pain as Al touches his back again. "I'm really sorry I let this happen..." Al trailed off as Ed whimpered through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry," he says again, hands moving quicker, and reaching down for gauze. "I know that you don't like being touched,"

I know I should leave. , is a private moment, not to mention what Ed would do if he saw me here. Probably either break into a fit of violence or run away to hide in the bathtub. Again. That had been an interesting experience.

But at the same time, I can't help but watch. Ed looks so open here, something that I had been trying to get him to do around me for almost two weeks. He isn't glaring, or even holding that blank expression that has become so normal, but showing his pain freely.

I watch for a few more minutes as Al finishes taping gauze on Ed's back, all the while whispering apologies quietly. Then the book in my hand (the reason I came in here in the first place) clatters to the floor.

Everyone freezes for just a moment, then Ed jumps up and slams the door, nearly smashing my fingers off in the process.

The glares that night were particularly sharp, all up until Ed saves one of Al's notebooks from falling off a stack that the younger man had been carrying.

This was another little thing that I had noticed: Ed wouldn't touch paper. Be it blank paper, lined paper, in a book, or even on the floor. It just wasn't done. Not even Al had the answers to that one.

So when Edward found himself holding a halfway open notebook he had frozen suddenly, staring down at the object in almost fear.

"It's okay, Ed," I whisper from my place in the kitchen door, having heard the rustle of pages falling. "It's just a book, put it down," Edward glanced up at me with frightened eyes as starts to reach out and hand me the book. As soon as he meets my eyes, his trembling hands drop the book and he runs into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He didn't come out till he had to cook lunch the next day.

A few weeks later it was time for school to start, and have no idea where the boys were in school, I had to talk to way too many people and set up days to test them. Unfortunately, they had to be tested on different days because of their ages.

Low and behold, Al's testing date just happened to be one of those days Ed had stayed up all night refusing to sleep because of nightmares, and we had not been able to wake him up before his brother left.

Edward had not been happy when he woke up alone in their room.

I was rummaging around in the kitchen, trying to find something to cook for breakfast since Ed was still asleep when a door slammed open and Ed came barreling down the hall like a madman, a mixed expression of terror and raw anger.

"Edward! Glad to see you finally up-" the boy quickly shoved me against the counter, cleaned up, and wrapped his metal hand around my throat. My attempts at pushing the smaller -miraculously strong- boy off of me are stopped by Edward's words. Words. Edward was talking for the first time in who knows long. Granted, the words weren't very nice and the circumstance was bad, but still.

"Where is he!?" He snarled, putting more pressure on my throat.

"Ed calms down," I would love to answer him, but lack of air is making my vision blacken at the edges.

"Where is he? Where is Al!" The last one wasn't a question. It was a demand. Something that was supposed to come out in only anger, but I could see the underlying fear in his eyes. Hear it in his voice. Edward was terrified of what I had done to his younger brother and terrified of what I would do to him.

"He's...f-fine. Just at school. Get off me...can't breathe," of course by the time Edward process what I say, I pass out. The last thing I see before I hit the floor is Ed running away from me.

"Um...Roy? Where are you?" The house is deathly quiet. The only sound leak coming from Al clattering around the house looking for his brother and me.

"I'm in the kitchen, Al," Al walks in with his backpack, the one I bought for him, and sets it down on the table.

"Hey, um...why are you sitting on the floor? And where's Ed? What happened?"

"Well, to answer your second question. I have no idea where Edward is. He's not in the bathroom, I didn't hear him go in there,"

"What!? Why-"

"Hold on Al, let me finish," Al clamps his lips shut as if trying to physically stop the sounds from pouring out. "When Edward woke up he freaked out because you were gone," Al opens his mouth again but I make a shushing sound, and finish the story.

"We have to find him!" He yells when I Finnish. Ow. I vaguely wonder if I have a concussion. "He could be anywhere right now!"

"Calm down, Al. He's probably in the bathtub, or the closet," (lol hiding in the closet)

"But you said he wasn't in the bathroom!"

"Oh...did I? I'm sorry, I fell on my head. Do you think you could help me up?" Alphonse groans in frustration and helps me up off the floor. "I'll check outside and on the roof, will you check in the house?" I barely finish before Al speeds off into their bedroom.

I barely have time to make it out of the door before Al calls my name from the bathroom. "Do you want me to come in?"

"Um...I think that'd be helpful. Just... don't make much noise," I make my way back to the bathroom, and can hear Al coaxing Ed out of his hiding place, telling him that it's okay.

Edward is sitting in the bathtub, knees pulled up to his chest, and arms wrapped around them. His shaking sobs are muffled, as he has his head buried in his arms. "It's okay, Ed. I'm sure Roy forgives you. Don't you Roy," he sends a meaningful glare at me. Alphonse almost never glares.

"Yeah, Ed. I'm fine, it'll barely even bruise," he shakes his head and shies away from Al's hand. "Is this just about you getting mad or is this about you taking as well," Ed freezes.

"It's not bad to talk, brother. I keep telling you that nobody will care if you do. F-father isn't here now so nobody will hurt you because of it, it really is okay,"

Edward still didn't talk again.

After we had gotten Al's scores from the test -they were much higher than I had expected them to be- and Edward went to his meeting -getting a marginally higher general score than his brother- there came the obstacle of back to school shopping. Witch, in short, was expensive and annoying and I hope I never have to do it again.

"Hey, Al? What did you mean when you told Ed that nobody would hurt him? Did your father...did he punish Ed for talking?" After all the little things that I knew Ed got in trouble for, talking was not one I expected to be on the list. I had honestly thought Ed stopped talking because his mother died and his father was beating him. I thought it was just a way to get in less trouble. But to think that he got beaten for just talking? That was just outrageous.

"He didn't always get in trouble for talking," he whispers, looking down at the sleeping form of his brother. "It was...just one day, the father had, had and Ed got mad at him. I sit silently and wait for him to continue.

"It was a little under four years ago, right after my tenth birthday. Father was sitting at the table, drinking, reading. I had been reading out loud in the living room -Ed didn't touch paper back then either- and he had called me to the kitchen... I didn't want to upset him so I went in there. He started talking about how it was my fault that mum died. If she didn't have to birth and take care of me, she wouldn't have gotten sick. Which didn't make any sense cause she died when I was seven,"

"He started getting all worked up and got up and walked towards me..." He swallows. "I don't think I had ever been so scared in my life. I don't really remember very clearly what happened next. I remember that Ed got in front of me, and started yelling at the father. I remember... I remember it hurt," he looks up and meets my eyes. "He tried to kill me. He had never tried to hurt me before that, and he never did it again, but that day...he broke one of his bottles on the table, and stabbed me in the chest with it..." He trails off.

"Alphonse...why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"It's fine really. I don't remember it very well because of blood loss and shock. I mean, I have a scar and stuff so I know it happened, but it hurt Ed more than it hurt me. He blamed himself for what happened, and that's why he stopped talking. (Even though he still talks during his nightmares)" he pushes the loose hairs out of Ed's face, causing the older boy to stir. "He still thinks that if he talks I'll get hurt. He said those few words to you because he already thought I was hurt and wanted to make it better. Then, when he learned that I was fine, he felt guilty and angry, and...scared. Of you," . . .

It seems as if the longer the boys live here, the more distant Edward gets. Sure I am learning things about him, but he never looks at me anymore. Granted, he is at school most of the day and follows Al around afterward, but I still feel like we have hit a wall in my trying to help him.

Edward still cooked breakfast and lunch. Still spent most of his time either on his bed or in the bathroom. Still didn't touch paper, eat in front of me, talk, or drop the angry attitude that hid the fear of me that I knew was always there no matter how had I tried to push it away.

Four months since I adopted them and barely any progress on Ed.

That is until Alphonse presents that one of his friends invited him over for a sleepover.

Edward, of course, was a little skeptical of the idea. Alphonse leaving him alone overnight with me did not sound like a good idea in the least.

But eventually, after listening to how much Al wanted to go, and how it was only one night. Ed gave in.

And suddenly I found myself lying in bed wondering what I would do to help him if he had a nightmare because Al wasn't here and it was all up to me.

Of course, Edward did have a nightmare. And of course he didn't wake up by himself, and if he did he still kept screaming.

Hesitantly, I open the door to his room. The blankets are all tangled up around his legs as he tries to get away from them, hands fisting in the sheets at the same time. His face is shiny with sweat, loose bangs plastered to his forehead. His eyes scrunch up in pain as his head thrashes on the pillow. Harsh screaming pours from his mouth.

"Edward," I whisper as I cross the room. My bare feet make little padding noises on the hardwood floor, accompanying the rain on the roof. "Wake up, Ed. It's just a dream," he makes no response, but to scream quieter. It doesn't help though, seeing as these screams are more pained.

I slowly settle down on the edge of the bed and begin brushing his damp hair out his face. At first, he says away from the touch but after a moment, he leans into it the slightest bit.

"There you go. Calm down, you're okay," I try to make my voice as soothing as possible. From Ed's reaction, I am succeeding. "It's okay Ed. I'm here," his quiet screaming finally changes into whimpers, and the thrashing stops aside from random jerks of his flesh limbs.

Right as I am about to get up, still stroking his hair, lightning cracks and thunder roars and...Ed's eyes fly open. My hand freezes.

He stares at the ceiling for a minute. Then his eyes slowly drift over to me.

"E-Edward. I'm sorry, you were having a nightmare and-" another boom of thunder. Edward whimpered, eyes darting to look out the window then back at me pleading. "Do you want me to go?" Ed shakes his head. "Do you want me to...stay here?" A nod. "...okay," Edward slowly reaches his flesh hand to push mine away from his forehead. "Oh. Sorry," slowly, he sits up. I don't miss the wince or how when he brings his right leg up to his chest, his left doesn't even twitch.

"Is your autimail bothering you?" He shrugs and lowers his head onto his knee. "I'll take that as a yes. It is because of the rain? Or something else?" Another noncommittal shrug. "Ed you've gotta cooperate with me here. Al might be able to read your mind, but I can't," he doesn't respond.

"I have a whiteboard! We can use that. It's the little ones that people put on their refrigerators, and since you don't talk or use paper, it's perfect!" At this, he raises his head tiredly. "How do you like that idea?" Something between a shrug and a nod. "I'll take that as a yes. I'll be right back,"

Go go go!

"Here you go," he makes no move to lift his head. "Edward? Are you awake?" I set the board and marker down and touch his arm gently. He reacts instantly, head jerking upward and wrapping his arms tighter around his torso. His eyes jerk around frantically looking around the room, at me, and finally out the window. They stay there watching the rain.

"I got your board," I shove it over to him. "Now you can talk to me," I didn't get the glare that I was expecting. It's strange seeing Ed like this, he is so vulnerable here. Not like I've ever seen him. He stares at it for a moment, then gingerly picks up and uncaps the marker and starts writing. I wait till he's done to look at it.

I apparently got my autimail wet, and the rain is making it hurt. It needs to be removed and dried, but I don't have Al to help me.

"...maybe I can help you with it?" That got me a glare and some more writing on the board.

You would probably break it. You're an idiot that way, and even if you didn't, I don't trust you to remove it without breaking ME.

"... breaking you?" He rolls his eyes. Here's the Ed we know and love.

Automail works by connecting metal wires to the nerves in whatever limb you've connected it to. When you put on or take off the Automail limb, you have to do it at just the right angle and press the button just right, or it'll hurt like hell and you could permanently damage the nerves in my arm.

"Wow, Ed. When you say it like that it makes you sound so smart,"

I am smart, you idiot. Did you even look at my test results?

blamed barely skimmed them. I had just made sure he had passed and could go into the same classes as his brother. "Not really," I answer honestly.

You really are an idiot.

"Thanks, Ed. That really makes me feel better," through this entire, short, conversation every time the lightning flashes or thunder cracked he would flinch away. When I hit a look, he just looked back at his board.

But when the house shakes he drops the board and it falls off the bed. He doesn't even look out the window this time, just stares at a spot on the wall by the door. I can practically feel how fast and hard his heart is beating.

"Ed? Come on Ed, I still need to talk to you. I've gotta figure out what to do with your auto-mail," nothing. "I really don't want to have to touch you to get your attention," I touch his shoulder gently.

He screams and stumbles off the bed to fall on the floor.

"Ed, it's okay. Calm down, we've got to do your auto-mail," climbing off the bed to kneel next to him, effectively trapping him against the wall, was a bad idea. The scream that it tore from him was heart-wrenching.

"I'm sorry!" He shuffles back against the wall, eyes widening and clamping a hand over his mouth. He's still whimpering please behind his hand.

"Shhh. It's okay. I am not going to hurt you. You're fine," he shakes his head a few times, tears leak from the corner of his eyes. "Are you scared of me?" A shake. "Is it...is it the storm? You shouldn't be afraid of a storm, it's just raining," another shake. Gosh, this is annoying. "Than what's wrong?" A few blinks as he tries to get the tears out of his eyes. "Do you want to write on the board?" A hesitant nod.

When he, that part is erased, the first time my um...father beat me it was storming. It just...I don't know. It stuck with me. That and my autimail makes it hard to go through stormy nights. Especially without Al.

"Oh. Um...if you don't mind my asking, why did he start... that? You don't have to answer if you don't want to! I just can't think of any reason anyone would beat a nine-year-old boy" Ed shakes his head from his position on the floor. "Okay, if you aren't comfortable with telling me that's fine. I completely understand," he hangs his back so that it is resting on his knees, shoulders shaking slightly.

"Do you want to get back in the bed?"

No response.

"Well, if you aren't going to go back to sleep, and you don't like me being here, I am going to go make some tea-" I am caught in the middle of my sentence and step as Ed grabs ahold of my nightshirt from behind. How he had stood up so quickly, I had no idea, but here he was latched onto my sleeve like a lifeline. "Edward I don't understand what you want," large dull golden, pain and fear tainted eyes blink at me for what feels like forever. There is no anger in them. None of the normal leave me alone attitude that I am so used to. Only an aching loneliness.

Than his metal leg gives out and he collapses into my arms with a huff. He is oddly balanced; metal limbs too heavy, and fresh ones to light. A strange mixture of unhealthy bodily proportion. Though, this does make it easier to settle him back against the wall on the bed. He doesn't let go on my sleeve when he gets there, but holds on tightly and tugs me towards him.

"Do you want me to sit with you," it feels strange as if I am talking to a child. A child who has nodded once again and given another tug. "Okay. I'm going to scoot you over a bit so that I'll fit without being too close," and that's what I do. Now we're sitting barely three inches apart. So that if he wanted to, Ed could lean over on my shoulder for comfort instead of trying to rub his Autimail leg off with his flesh one.

"Ed you need to let me help you with that. It needs to be taken off and you can't do it yourself," he looks away from me and whimpers at another crash outside. " Believe it or not, I have dealt with these kinds of things before,"

Fine. thought writes on the board after picking it up grumpily. You had better be careful and

"And what?"

Nevermind. Just be careful, I don't want Al coming home and seeing that his brother lost two of his libs again.

"I promise I'll be careful. Lay down and I'll remove your arm," of course, he doesn't lay down. "Edward. We need to do this as soon as we can, the longer we put it off the more it'll hurt,"

But it will hurt more if you take it off.

"Maybe, but it needs to happen,"

You don't understand what it feels shoot.

"No. You're right, I don't. But I've heard stories, and I'm sure you'll be fine once it's off. Maybe you can go back to sleeping,"

I still do not like it.

"I know. And I'm sorry we have to do this at all,"

Just hurry up. I want it over.

"I'll be careful," the young blonde doesn't look at all trusting as his scoots down on his back and gusts his shoulders. "Are you ready?" As he'll ever be. I think. "On three,"

"One," his eyes close.

"Two," flesh fist clenches.

"Three," he screams, and arches away from me. I discard the heavy metal limb on the floor, noting how damp it feels, and proceed in calming Ed down.

Almost fifteen minutes later I am on the other end of the bed ready to remove his leg. "We're almost done, Ed. Almost done and then I'll stay with you till you fall asleep, and fix your Autimail later," it sounds like an odd reassurance even to me, but Ed nods never the less. Watching Ed's scrunched up face I remove his leg and almost get kicked in the process.

This time the screaming isn't replaced with tears and whimpering so quickly. He just keeps making horrible chocked noises until I sit on the bed beside him and lift his shoulders into my lap. Gently stroking his hair and whispering nothing until he looks like he can breathe properly.

As soon as he gains enough control over himself, he pushes out of my lap and away from me. I can see the wheels turning in his cloudy eyes and wonder what exactly he is thinking about. Then I get my answer.

Ever so slowly, he scoots over into my arms and voluntarily rests his golden head against my chest.

We sit there silently for quite a while. I shift eventually so that I am halfway propped up against the pillows with Ed's head on my shoulder. I don't know how much later it was. It could have been hours or it could have been minutes. The raining had died down to a soft humming noise when Ed reached again for his whiteboard.

It was because I didn't have dinner ready.

His writing is a little awkward without a second arm to hold the board steady. "What was because you didn't have dinner ready?"

You asked me why my father beat me for the first time. He came home grumpy one day and I didn't have dinner. He beat me for it. I guess it made him happy cause he never stopped.

"Edward..." It seems like every time I think I know how bad their situation is, they tell me something worse. "That isn't a responsibility anyone your age should have. You were nine years old. Nine. And he beat you because you hadn't made dinner. That is despicable. I-"

Shut up. I am tired.

"Oh... Sorry" Ed pushes the board away, lying his head back on my shoulder. "Goodnight Ed" I could have sworn I heard the tiniest hum of response. . . .

Alphonse had been absolutely ecstatic when he came home to an intact house and two living people the next morning. He had known how much trouble Ed had with storms and had been playing out scenarios all night after he had found he was flooded into the house he was staying at.

I and Ed with the whiteboard that he had quickly become attached to told Al what had happened the previous night and now felt closer.

Ed glared less and wrote things down almost constantly now. Witch also made Al very happy. He started eating tiny bits of Al's food at meal times. And best of all he held a book without cringing away.

Of course, all of this happened over a month and a half, but it did happen. We were making progress.

Six months after I adopted the boys, I found out why Edward didn't like paper. . . .

It hadn't been a special day. A Saturday actually, where Al had been writing Ed's work on paper so that he could turn it into the teacher.

Edward's fear of paper had become quite bothersome after school started. The annoying part was that Ed could do almost all the work in his head, or write it down on the board, but the teachers wouldn't accept that. And that was why I finally confronted Edward about this problem.

It's not a problem. He wrote with a glare.

"It may not be a problem, but you either need to tell me why you won't so it or start using paper. I managed to convince most of your teachers to let you use the board for now, but that isn't willing to keep doing this. If you keep getting grades like this, that you won't be able to go to college. So, what is your problem with paper?"

It's not...it's a long story, okay?

"Tell me. We've got time, it's only noon and on a Saturday,"

It's stupid

"It might not be as stupid as you think,"

I really should be over it by now. It happened a long time ago and it wasn't anything that bad.

"It's okay. No one will judge you no matter how silly it sounds to you,"

Dad used to say that using paper killed the trees, and me using it was making the world get turned into muddy swamps and overly large cities.

"That's stupid. Were you using paper for school? Or writing or drawing or what?"

Um...all of them. I did a lot of math and writing so that used a lot of paper. And I draw things. That takes up one paper per picture.

"You said draw. Does that mean you're still doing it? Edward, you don't have to hide things from us,"

But I

"No buts show me," Ed seems to freeze in place for a moment, hand stopping where it college above the board. He blinks at me a few times than shakes his head. "Please, Ed? I really do want to see, and you won't get into any trouble. I promise,"

They're stupid though

"I don't care, I just want to see. I am interested in your life as well as Al's,"

Are you sure?

"Absolutely,"

Fine than. They're under the bed.

"Um...why?" Shrug.

I didn't know where else to hide them.

"You didn't have to hide them at all, Ed. I wouldn't have gotten upset, you know that" Edward just walked away without a glance back, heading to the bed and quickly reaching out to grab a thick stack of papers. His eyes stare into mine uncertainty before reaching out a hesitant hand and giving me the papers.

They're absolutely phonological. Mostly pictures of Alphonse or random buildings. A few of his school, or arias at the park by the library, a girl with long hair and very few clothes that I don't recognize. Even a few of me. "Edward...these are really good. How long have you been drawing?" He shrugs and shifts his feet, not meeting my eyes. Quite a while, I guess.

Mom was really into drawing and music and all that artsy stuff. I just kinda got attached to it. It's...nice, kinda like I'm connected to her, even though she's dead.

Things actual settled down quite a bit after that. Al and Ed settled into school just fine and graduated with a full scholarship with party much any college he wanted. Alphonse married a Xingslian girl he met at med school and had three little girls. It took Edward a while, but he finally started talking (Somehow it still surprised Roy how loud the boy could be sometimes) He hasn't gotten married yet, but the way he looks at that blonde automail mechanic it could be any day. He became an artist, selling his drawings at little fairs, he also painted and drew pictures of people for them to hang in their houses. When he was older he performed at many events and parties as a pianist. Roy married Riza and had only two children, but they were happy and cherished by their parents, adopted brothers and nieces. And I can't think of a good ending, sorry.
TheEnd

1 I will no be posting anything on If I Came anytime soon, possibly ever. Blame me for your suffering, whatever, I'm SORRY.

2 I have a Mpreg Story that is four chapters long. If Y'all want me o post them with the possibility of never getting more than that, Review! There's no way I'm posting if I don't get sufficient feedback.

3 My baby Neko!Ed fic has half of another chapter but isn't ready to post yet, just be patient.

4 I have a mostly finished RoyEd smut that I might post if you all ask. (Perverts)

5 Be back as soon as I can. please give me attention.

-Alex