Volume
The sound tears through the once peaceful darkness. Ed jolts awake in panic, the screams scratching at his ear drums, clawing insistently inside his brain. At first he can't tell if it's an echo of one of his many nightmares, where he's covered in blood, screaming in pain, screaming for Al...
He sits upright in the bed, sweat quickly cooling in the space between his shoulder blades, heart hammering….
"Alphonse?!" He croaks out the words, his throat dry from fear. "Alphonse!"
He clears his throat, runs both his hands through his hair in desperation, confusion. A voice next to him mutters stubbornly.
"It's your turn."
For a brief moment he feels the familiar hot flare of anger pulsing behind his eyes, the tightly wound knot unravelling in the pit of his stomach, threatening to unleash his fury….But he's exhausted, and he knows it's pointless arguing at this time of night.
"Damn it." He sighs, gets up and moves quickly and stealthily across the room, and in one fluid motion he ducks and raises the squirming, wailing child to his chest, rocking gently back and forth, stroking the downy blonde hair, making soothing noises.
"Hush now Alphonse. You'll wake your mother."