A oneshot based off three things; a dream I had, BelloftheSea's "I'm Still Here", and the doujinshi Traumerei. There's also some Edwin, if you squint.

"Winry?"

"I'm right here, Ed."

"Oh." A beat, then—

"Winry?"

"Still here."

"Oh."

Another pause, this one a bit longer.

"Winry?"

"Still h—"

"No, not that. I want you…can you…stay here?"

"Of course. I'm not going anywhere, Ed."

Ed nodded, relieved. His hand, almost of its own volition, reached out for hers. She took it without hesitation. Ed's fogged, glassy eyes searched the ceiling listlessly.

"Winry?"

"Yes, Ed?"

"Where's…where's Alphonse?"

Winry sucked in her breath sharply. Ed jerked up at the sound of it.

"Winry? Where's Al?" he asked again, fearful this time.

"He's…he's not here, Ed."

"Where did he go? When's Al coming back? I want to see Al."

"He's not—he can't—" her words broke off, and the tears filled her eyes. Ed sat up.

"Winry?" he asked cautiously. "Are—are you crying? Please don't cry. I'm sorry." he reached out again, his hand bumping across her cheek. He dragged his hand across it, back and forth, trying to wipe off any moisture. "Don't…don't cry."

"Ed…your brother…he's gone."

"Gone? Where? Where? Where did Al go?"

"Al's…dead. They…wiped his blood seal while you were fighting."

Ed froze completely. His breathing fluttered, his eyes widening as if he could see if he stretched them enough. His hand fell away from her face, the other jerking away from hers. For a moment, he lay in his hospital bed, silent, utterly silent. The frigid white walls waited for an answer coolly.

"What the hell do you mean?" he asked. His voice was a symphony composed of hysteria and ice-cold fury. "Don't—don't joke around like that. Don't you dare…you don't joke about that…where is Alphonse?!"

Winry was taken aback by his reaction. "I'm not joking, Ed. I'm—I'm so sorry, I—"

"Don't give me that!" he shrieked. "Where is my brother?!"

With that, Ed lunged forward, grasping for something, so utterly blind and unable to tell where he was. As he jerked forward, the IV in his arm was ripped out. Something beeped loudly, and he gasped, flopping back onto the bed. Out cold.

"…Al?"

"I'm here, Brother."

Relief swamped his whole body. "Al! You're here?! Winry told me you were—dead!"

Silence.

"Al?" Ed gasped.

"I'm right here, Brother."

Ed made some kind of noise of relief, reaching out with his hand. It connected with the cold, rough glove of his brother's hand.

"Al," he repeated, over and over. "Al, thank you…for coming…I was so worried…are you hurt?"

Another bout of silence. "…It doesn't hurt anymore, Brother."

"It doesn't? Good…am I hurt?"

"You're a little beat up, Brother."

"Why…why can't I see?" Ed waited for an answer, but instead all he got was the noise of shuffling footsteps outside. "Al? Al?"

The door opened, and Ed smelled that wonderful familiar smell. Of steel and the flowers that grew in Resembool, of better things to come.

"Winry? Is that you?"

"That's right, Ed. Who were you talking to?"

"Al," he responded instantly. "He's right here. He's right next to me, see?"

Winry paused, shocked. She thought that Ed would be better now…she thought that he'd accepted it. But he was smiling lazily, gesturing to thin air.

"Winry?" he said, confused. Then his face contorted in fear. "Alphonse? Al?" he swung his arm out next to him, but flesh did not meet steel. "Where'd he go?! Where's Al?"

So then Winry made a snap decision. One she probably would regret later.

"Alphonse went out to get some food," she replied steadily.

Ed frowned, confused. "But—but he didn't warn me," he stuttered. "And I didn't feel him leave…"

"He'll come back soon, Ed."

He then smiled widely. "He said he's not hurt, which is good. He didn't get hurt in the fight."

Winry's heart ached. He didn't even pick up the fact that Al can't feel pain?

"And he said I'm a little hurt too…but he didn't tell me why I can't see."

Winry bit her lip, forcing herself not to tell him the answer. He was on pain medication, anyway. It wouldn't stick.

"When he comes back, can you ask him to warn me before he leaves? I don't like it when he goes and I don't know. I didn't like that…"

"I will," she responded softly, her voice choked back.

"Winry? Are you crying?" he asked suddenly, smelling saltwater. "Winry, don't cry. I don't like it when you cry. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Ed," she quickly said, walking towards him. "I'm okay. Don't worry, Ed."

"A-alright. Thank you, Winry…"

"What for?" she asked in surprise. But Ed was already fading back off into the lure of medication.

"Al!" Ed called, ducking from a fierce blow. There were so many of them. All clad in black suits and masks, moving almost robotically, dodging his every punch. "Al, are you okay back th—?!"

A man—or maybe even a woman, he couldn't tell—gripped his arm and pulled him back so sharply he landed right on his tailbone. Blinding pain shot up his back.

Then he heard the clunk of metal, and saw his brother held back by three of the attackers. One pulled off his head, while the person on the center placed his finger right above his brother, his precious little brother's blood seal.

"Don't you dare!" Ed shrieked.

Then the man pushed down. Down, down, slowly and firmly. Al made some kind of noise, and the life just vanished. Ed couldn't feel that thin, weblike structure that kept them connected. He couldn't feel his little brother. And with that connection gone, Ed snapped. He fought harder than he had in his whole life. He may have even killed someone. He didn't know. He saw red, red, red like his coat, red like his blood, the blood that he'd used to save his brother, the blood that was wiped, the blood that murdered Alphonse.

Then they'd stabbed his eyes. The last thing he saw, the last thing he would ever see, was his brother dead in front of him. He would never again see a smile or glimpse a sunset. He would never erase the image of those soul-fire eyes fading out to death while he could do nothing, nothing, nothing.

"Al!" Ed bolted up, his voice cracked and shaky and dry. "Alphonse!"

"Brother? What's wrong?"

Ed gasped, unable to breath, shaking beyond control. It had been a dream. Nothing but a dream. Al was here. He was still here.

"Al, Al, come here, please," Ed begged. He felt the brown glove connect with his arm. His flesh arm.

"You're alive, right?" he asked, hyperventilating. "You're—not a ghost—you're here?!"

Silence. Bone-crushing silence.

"Please," Ed repeated. "Please…"

"…I'm here, Brother."

"No, no, no, that's not enough. You're alive, right?"

Then he heard footsteps. He hated those footsteps. When he heard them, Alphonse disappeared. He somehow left without a trace. Ed couldn't smell him. Al carried no scent, no sound. Where was his brother?!

The door opened. Ed looked up, about to snarl something rude, but then he caught the smell. That wasn't the smell of automail and daisies. That was the smell of ash and some kind of cologne.

"…Mustang?" Ed asked incredulously.

"Fullmetal? How the hell can you tell that it's—"

"What are you doing here?" Ed spluttered.

Then he heard another set of footsteps. He turned his head to their general direction.

"Winry?"

"It's me, Ed."

He nodded. "Al was just here." he shuddered at the memory of his nightmare, quickly pushing it out of his head. "He didn't say much. Where'd he to go off to now?"

Mustang's eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but Winry quickly tapped him on the shoulder. He looked down at her and her sky-blue eyes shimmered with sorrow and one request—please don't tell him.

So Mustang just slowly looked back at Ed, who was staring off obliviously at them. Waiting for an answer.

"He wanted to go shower," Winry replied after a beat. Ed nodded, taking her answer without question.

"Did you tell him I don't like it when he leaves w-without telling me?"

"I'm sorry, I forgot, Ed. I promise I'll do it next time. Are you hungry?"

He paused, then shook his head. "No. Not really. But I haven't eaten in a while, so you'll just make me, won't you?"

Winry laughed, a strained, forced laugh. "You're catching on. I'll get some soup for you."

"Mustang? Can you leave?" Ed asked suddenly.

"I'm offended, Fullmetal," Mustang shot back out of habit.

"But when people are in here, Al doesn't answer me."

Mustang blinked twice. "Well. I'd like to talk to you first."

The Colonel knew Ed well enough to see the beginnings of anger flicker in his swamped eyes. "Al is more important. Talk—we can talk later."

Mustang didn't know what to do, so he just backed away. He shut the door, but stayed in the room, wanting to see what would happen.

Ed scowled. "Bastard, do you think I can't tell you're still in here?"

But by then Winry was back with the soup. She set it down.

"Thanks, Winry. Can you get the Colonel to go?"

Winry sighed. "Come on, he wants to talk to you."

"But if he's in here, Al won't come back." Ed seemed frustrated now. "I don't—I don't know why. He only comes when I'm alone. And I can't tell when he leaves or comes. He's just there. And if you go, he might come back. I want to talk to Al. I don't get the chance very often. So—please, can you leave me alone for just a little while?"

And then Mustang couldn't take it anymore. "Edward, Alphonse is dead."

Winry breathed in sharply and whipped around to face the Colonel, eyes alight with…fear?

"He died in the fight you were in. I'm sorry, Fullmetal. Alphonse is not here."

Ed seemed to completely drain of life. He froze as if he was a machine and someone had paused him.

"No. No, I was just—I just spoke to him. I swear. Alphonse? Alphonse?! Where is he?!"

Tears spilled over his broken eyes, onto his bruised cheeks, falling on his scarred chest and resting in his tired legs. "No! Where is he? Where is he? He's still here!"

Mustang sat on the chair, looking back at the room where Ed had just ripped out his IV (again) and passed out. Winry sat next to him.

"…Why doesn't he know?" Mustang whispered softly. "Why didn't you tell him?"

Winry sniffed. "He's…happy that way. He got so upset when I told him the—the truth. I didn't know what to do, so I lied. Things were…easier that way…I'm so selfish," she sobbed.

Mustang looked back at the door. "Give him time. I'm sure he'll…find out eventually."

"He really believes Al is still there with him. He tells me their conversations. They seem like things Al would really say. I don't know if he's hallucinating…or if it's the medication…I don't know!"

"Maybe he really is still with Ed," Mustang murmured, almost to himself, as he waited for his subordinate to wake up.

"Al?"

"I'm here, Brother."

"Al…"

"I promise, I'm here."

"Why do they say you're dead?"

No response.

"Are you a hallucination? Is that why you just phase in and out?"

Nothing.

"Are you dead? Are you a ghost? Why do you always leave?"

"Brother, I'm…they're right. I'm dead, Brother."

Ed wanted to scream. But that would alert Winry. And then Al would leave.

"Then…are you a dream?"

"No, Brother. I'm here. I promise, I'm still here."

"But they can't see you."

"I'm a soul, Brother." Then Ed felt that familiar coldness on his hand. But that wasn't a glove, that was a spirit…

"Your soul?"

"Yes. My soul is with you. I don't know why. But I'm glad, Brother."

"But you're here?"

"I'm still here, Brother. I always will be."

Well, there it is. I know Ed seemed OOC, I was trying to imagine a very shell-shocked kid on lots of pain medication. Sorry if it seems like a ripoff of I'm Still Here…I just really liked that story 8')