A/N: I don't own anything. Warning: death.

Superman.

It was easy to ignore at first. Rain or cold had made him limp more than that.

But I couldn't ignore it now, although I wish I had the ability.

In yet another war ravaged country (because destroying the bomb could no more stop the war than a lily can stop a bulldozer) I watch him lay there, his ghost disappearing with every strained breath.

This building will be condemned when this is over. The fissures in the walls are too large and let in a biting draft. I want to touch him, hear him laugh, or have him glare at me when I try to take in another stray.

No matter how invincible you are, you can't defeat this one, can you?

I hate him. No, I hate myself for letting him come back here. For being too weak to keep him where he belonged.

I love you, Brother. I love you so much.

I wipe away the sweat off his fevered brow and pull up the coarse wool blanket a little more. Mostly to hide the angry, red flesh around his port. How selfish of me, he's probably burning up under there.

Who knew he would keep growing? The running gag that always threw him into a tantrum about his height was legendary, but no one's laughing now. The one doctor I could find under the circumstances said amputation was impossible, not on the leg, but how could they carve into his shoulder?

No. Instead, I had to watch him waste away until he was unable to walk, the infection eating him alive.

Where he's going, I cannot follow. Not after everything he did, never giving up with unflagging determination, to give me the body that won't stop weeping for him.

I hate you. I'm trapped.

I try to smile when his eyes finally open, but it doesn't matter because he can't see me. He sees him. That other Alfons. Is my sacrifice, my isolation, not enough to warrant his attention? I'm such a horrible person.

Now he's lucid and calling for me in that death whisper that makes me flinch. I take his hand and try to smile. He smiles back although it's only a shadow of his pirate's grin.

"I'm finally tall," he whispers.

"Yeah, but I bet the colonel would still call you shorty." He chuckles and I'm scared.

We look out the window and all I can do is wonder how it can be so beautiful outside when the world is falling apart. When my world is dying right in front of me.

"Don't leave me, Brother." Desperation laces my voice as I lay my head on his chest.

I'm so weak that I have to use a dying man for comfort.

"Al…" His body tenses and he scowls in pain before a howl tears from his throat. The exhaustion and the pain is finally wearing away his self-control.

Stupid me. I start to cry and of course he tries to comfort me.

It's so unfair. This is NOT Equivalent Exchange.

The anguish in his face disappears after an eternity and I stroke his sweat-soaked hair away from his face. It's been dulled to a mousy brown in his sickness, but his eyes glitter like newly minted gold coins.

"Al," he starts again. "I love you. You know that right?" Not this again. I don't know why, but he asks me this every few hours.

"Yes, Brother, of course I do. I love you, too." I begin to shiver as fear blows a blizzard through my body.

"I'm sorry, Al. I'm so sorry for everything. Forgive me…"

He doesn't hear my reply. He doesn't wait for me like always.

"Never."

A/N: I just had to write this, even though an OVA postulates that he lives to 100+...well this what I think about that. It also let me deal with some thoughts I had about CoS Al. Please review!