Notes: Well, after four years I decided to post something. It's pretty amazing. Even though it's a very short something with a probably-overused beginning.

Anyway, this takes place sometime after the Lab 5 incident; I haven't really decided when. Possibly on the way to Dublith, or shortly after the incidents with Ling. On the off-chance that someone actually reads this, I won't be able to write a second chapter for a couple weeks unless I decide to ditch accuracy.

Eight Days at Crystal Springs

"Ed, you're sleeping with your stomach out again…."

Alphonse Elric glanced down at his brother, fussing a little, but didn't wake Edward up. They'd had to catch a late train yesterday; their destination was an obscure little town that received no direct traffic, only one train a week from this place, another small town receiving little traffic. That passage to their destination would be early tomorrow morning, and yesterday's was the only train available before then. Sometimes it seemed like the train schedules were out to get them, designed with customer inconvenience in mind. Well, out to get Ed, really. Late nights didn't really affect Al….

So here they were, stuck in an empty train station between nowhere and somewhere, and there was nothing to do. Again. Al had learned to cope somewhat with the empty nights, but that never made it any less boring to watch Ed's red coat and black clothes rise and fall. Besides, he was still human and daytime was the time of activity, so it still seemed unnatural to be sitting and doing nothing while the sun was still shining through skylights.

Al gave a mental sigh and picked up Ed's suitcase. After rummaging through a half-dozen sets of gloves—Why doesn't he just avoid ripping them in the first case—he found his research journal, the excuse Ed so often used to cajole him into carrying the case in the first place. Not that he particularly minded, but still.

It only took a few minutes for Al to realize that he was babbling into the blank pages. He wasn't writing anything new or even interesting. Why was he so restless?

Unable to find an answer, he flipped back to the beginning, looking with fondness on his old handwriting from years back, before he'd quite gotten used to the armor. The notes were unintelligible to the average person—even Ed, who had refused to learn the form of shorthand Al had suggested when they started their journey. It didn't matter much, since Al had expanded considerably on the original form and made it more efficient. He often leafed through these pages, hoping to find something new, have an epiphany.

Only when the light was almost gone did Al realize how much time had passed. His eyes didn't quite see the same way as before the accident, but he'd never been able to describe it even to himself, so he didn't talk about it. The leather-bound volume thumped shut as he decided to watch the station instead. Trouble always seemed to come out this time of day.

The train station was surprisingly nice for such a small town, constructed to look old-fashioned. It was constructed mainly of rough-cut wood, though wrought iron or rope splashed variety here and there. Still, Al saw some fine work on both wood and metal, including the bench where Edward still slept.

Honestly, how could he sleep so much? It's not like he'd starved for rest, well, not all of the time.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Al looked up to find a middle-aged woman bending over to look him in the eye. "Yes?"

"Do you and your friend intend to stay the night here?"

"He's my brother. And um, well, we were told there were no lodgings here."

She smiled and shook her head. "I'm afraid you were misinformed."

Al gave a slightly nervous chuckle. "We're also a bit short on cash."

Ed chose this moment to awaken, yawning cavernously and rubbing his eyes. "Wuh… Al?"

"Good morning, Ed. I believe—" Al looked over at the woman in mute query for a name.

"Helen Griffin. And I was offering to put you boys up for the night."

"Have you taken her up on it?" asked Ed, still groggy. It was taking him a bit longer than usual to assimilate information.

"Not yet." Al gave Ed a meaningful look.

"What? Oh. Thank you very much, Mrs. Griffin, we'd love to stay at your place."