A/N: More FMA junk, my, I haven't written anything in a really long time. This is a story about Al. He never gets enough credit. I was just thinking that The Haunting by Kamelot would be a great song for Edward and Sloth/Trisha. More sloth though than Trisha
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His golden tassels whipped violently in the stubborn gales, fleeting eyes of chrome, gray amber stared helplessly through dense fog mask covering Risembool Valley of Amestris. He stood alone, bordered from his own home by long series' of white picket fences, each lined with sharp, rusty barb wire coiled into snake-like circles. All around him, posted signs splotched with red letters read: "WARNING: MILITARY PROPERTY." Sadness enveloped the once tame-less farmland, abandoned after years of misuse. The military had finally taken control of his childhood memories, after throwing him out of their ownership with less than a word of goodbye. There was no way he could compare to Edward, and Fuhrer Mustang was too discombobulated. Many said the missing of Edward Elric influenced Roy's alcoholism.
He blinked somberly, placing his hands on wood not symbiotically attached to bramble wire. His home lay only a few meters from where he stood, ivy and charred boards barely keeping it in place. Years ago it had been the same house Edward burnt down, only a few days after his operation. Yet memories of the past were fogged with the adventure that they had, for Alphonse could not bethink his childhood, only vague images of the brown-haired beauty that corrupted Edward's soul. Even Winry, his brother's past love, was mottled and pixilated in his mind.
Alphonse gripped the wire, wincing as the sharp thorns tore through his ebony gloves, leaving a growing stain of crimson red. It hurt, sure, but at least he could feel it. If it were back in the day, surrounded by a metal body, Alphonse would have barged through that barbed nuisance like a runaway train. Edward could always fix him up, anyway…
Those memories haunted Alphonse like a ghost denied Heaven. They circled him, surrounding him in guilt and discomfort, whispering in his ear and playing with his feelings. The demons didn't care about what he thought, for they controlled his mind now. Every fiber of his being ached with loneliness, his soul torn from right and wrong, bones broken from fights with his heart. No one knew that every night the youngest brother curled up in his bed, sobbing unfalteringly. And not even Roy could explain why Alphonse's eyes were so hollow, so lifeless. Maybe it was because he had given up on living, maybe because Roy had influenced him to desist caring for anything.
So Alphonse cautiously hopped over the barbed wire fence, being careful as not to hurt himself any further. Up ahead, what was left of his home could plainly be seen in the dense haze. Amazingly it still stood, black and rotting. The roof was completely burned away, windows broken and the once white outing now a deep brown saturation. Ivy crawled up the leftovers of this poor old home, wrapping it in comforting hugs and surrounding every inch. Alphonse was relived no one had torn it down.
Next door to the destroyed obstruction sat the Rockbell house, home of Pinako and Winry, two Automail mechanics from his childhood. They were the ones who fixed Edward up on that cold, rainy night. Another flash of history skyrocketed through Alphonse's brain, and he winced, clutching his forehead impetuously. It hurt, but the pain subdued quickly. Purple haze soon fell over him and his world swirled into a rich combination of colors. He stumbled, before blacking out all together.
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Winry Rockbell shivered. Rain pounded hard on the roof, sending tremors of rhythmic tapping all around the warm cottage. Her fire crackled and hissed, a warm mug slipped contently through her thin fingers. She sighed, sliding down in the sofa as she took a sip of hot chocolate. Lightning crashed outside, making her jump uneasily. Lightning… just like the night of Edward's transmutation attempt…
She shook the thought away, focusing on the flames licking charcoal wood from the fireplace. They danced in the low light beams, seeming to radiate heat from every jump and cackle they created. Winry heard a tree branch snap, and she instantly bolted up, spilling the cocoa all over her new blouse. It burned, forcing her to cry out in astonishment and pain. That led to a chain reaction of events, one being the couch getting stained with brown liquid.
A breeze shook the house, throwing the door open so savagely Winry thought they were being robbed. But, as no one was pounding the door down, she thought nothing of it. Her idea of world catastrophe was when Ed's automail would break down, or when Al lost his head. It was not some stupid door slamming shut because of…
A shadowy figure stepped through the doorframe, short and dark. Immediately she recognized the strange shape as her Grandmother, but Pinako was carrying something, and it looked heavy. Winry recoiled slightly, as the shape emerged as a human boy. His dull blonde hair stuck to his face, head hanging at an awkward angle. White loves covered his hand, one smeared on richly colored blood. The boy's outfit reflected Edward's, a long red trench coat over one black long-sleeve shirt fastened with a steel clip. Water cascaded down his pail cheeks, falling in a small puddle at Winry's feet.
Pinako sighed. "I found him outside by the cattle. Your dog actually saw him first." Winry's eyes enlarged.
"Who… who is it?"
The old lady blew out of her nose, staring at the disheveled man's face. "Alphonse."
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He winced. Light poured in from the back of his eyelids, leaving him blinded and confused. Cautiously allowing his eyelids to flutter open, the boy revealed his dull golden optics. A soft cushion supported him from behind, and Alphonse found himself on a bed. Not just an ordinary bed, but a bed with covers of pink and silver. His eyes wandered to the walls, where taped posters and pictures hung still, as if they hadn't been disturbed in their whole lifetime. However, he did not bother to get up, for his body ached, and his hand burned with a hateful fire, as if it were being scorched off.
So, instead, he let his head relax on the comfy pillow, staring at the dresser that contained so much history. He knew instantly where he was, for a repair kit sat next to the bed, and several automail parts lay around the floor. He returned back to the cabinet, signing. Pictures of Edward, him and Winry all had their place on the wooden cabinet, smiles that seemed fake now were absorbed into Alphonse's eyes.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, Alphonse weakly turning his head in case someone came through. He didn't care, however, since there really was nothing to care about anymore. Edward was gone, that much was understood, and he no longer had a home. That drunken bastard wanted nothing to do with him anyway, and Alphonse was secretly glad for getting away from the military. Now he couldn't say he was a dog. Lest, he had never been a Military Dog in the first place. That had been Edward's job.
A gentle knock woke him from his daydreams, making Alphonse blink in surprise. He tried to find his voice, but the soft, melodious sound had left him. Was he coming down with something? Instead, Alphonse gave a small cough, signaling that it was alright to enter.
The doorknob turned, and a tall girl with radiating blonde hair entered. She wore a light tan apron, around her waist, and white blouse. Her shoes were pink flip-flops, and blue orbs blinked shyly. He hadn't seen Winry in so long.
"Hi… Al," she stammered, as if unsure how to approach him. The both of them seemed foreign to each other, not coexisting together in over two years. He had almost forgotten she existed.
His smile disappeared, huge dull eyes locking onto hers. "Hi, Winry." Unfortunately for her, his speech was not up to par, and verbs sounded more like a mottled mess than actually fitting into his sentence. Even his voice sounded bored. Nothing mattered to him, not even her. Not after Edward left…
He noticed hurt in her eyes, and slight water filling the lower lid. His own orbs softened, trying to make her understand he didn't mean to hurt her. It was just so hard…
"I… I didn't know you were visiting." Winry bowed her head slightly, in fear of angering the other brother. Alphonse's glance traveled downwards.
"Me neither."
There was silence for a long time, before Winry finally closed the door and left.
xxxxx
Winry sniffed slightly. Even though Al probably had not meant to hurt her, she was stabbed nonetheless. Of course, she knew that Edward was missing, and it must have been very hard on Al, but couldn't he get over it? She certainly had…
Sadly, the girl grabbed another roll of gauze and pain reliever. The thought Al in her bed still made her twitch slightly, her feelings pouring out of her eyes. Tears of fear and malice swam down her cheeks, muffled sobs stopped with a bite of her sleeve. She could not believe she was crying for him. Hadn't he seen the signs posted in central? Al was wanted dead by the State!
She collected her supplies, wiped her eyes, and set out to his room.
The steps to the guest room were long and slanted, making it hard to reach the top. Boards creaked under her feet, revealing the aged wood. In fact, the steps were so old, Pinako usually fixed them once a month. So, in that sense, the steps were fairly new.
Winry lightly tapped Al's door with her knuckles. If he was sleeping, she didn't want to wake him. But, betraying her past interests, she opened the door.
Al lie there, asleep, his chest gently rising and falling with each breath he took. His hair lay spewed around the pillow, its true length plainly visible. Bouncy bangs hung over his eyes contently, those beautiful orbs hidden from the world by calming eyelids. Winry was in awe.
For the longest time she thought that Edward was the one she loved, the one she would always care for. Alphonse was more of a background person, never really appearing to her as someone important. He wasn't as handsome as Edward, nor as curt and short-tempered. He was sweet, kind, and unendingly beautiful. The short fact was: Al had no shirt on.
Timidly, Winry approached the bed, leaning over slightly. Al was cuddled in a small ball, chin pressed tightly to his bare chest, mouth closed in a faint, petite line. One arm was wrapped tightly around his stomach, the other relaxed, clutching a small photograph. Winry watched Al closely, and saw small drops of silvery tears fall from those gorgeous eyes. It hurt her heart, like a knife through the throat.
Winry almost tripped over robes of red, a pant buckle, and Al's tank top. She cursed softly as her head almost made contact which her dresser, the result of her legs being trapped between a pair of black pants. Oh, she had almost died trying to get to Al. Was this some sort of sign?
Al's picture consisted of the three of them, Winry, Ed and him. It made her heart ache, seeing the stains of his tears on his cheeks. He must have been sobbing. Why had she not heard him?
The most peculiar part of the whole shebang was Al's right arm. Scars ran up the length, settling in a peculiar spot where they sort of surrounded it like a bracelet, or like stitches… That was when she realized something.
It was Ed's arm.
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Alphonse stirred, opening his eyes which were not yet adjusted to the light. He slunk back into darkness, not able to get a good look around. So many things were happening to him in one day, and the sun was coming up from the horizon. How long had he been here again?
Forcing himself to wake up, he finally blinked the film clear, his vision as crisp as before. Winry stood above him, staring at the picture clutched tightly in his fist. She looked surprised as he withdrew his arm, feeling strangely uncomfortable. He hadn't ever actually been self conscious, but these past two years had revealed the worst of Alphonse.
"What?" he asked briskly, surprised at the harsh tone of his voice. Alphonse's vocal chords were back to normal, but his attitude was still far from original. Lucky, he didn't have to feel so self discerning because the blankets covered his black boxers, luckily away from Winry's view.
Her eyes lowered to his stomach, and Alphonse saw her cheeks blush red. He snorted, adjusting his sitting position. "What do you want?"
"I… came to make sure you were OK…" It was as if she were talking to a stranger. Alphonse grew angry.
"Well, I'm fine. Do I look like I'm hurt?" This was so out of character for him. Usually he wasn't so snappy and frozen. But the thought of Winry staring at him just gave him Goosebumps, especially if it was at his stomach or lower. Her love went to Edward, not him, no matter how much he wished for her.
"You're hand was bleeding. And we found you outside in the rain." Now it was Winry's turn to get angry. She stood up tall, glaring at Alphonse with heated blue optics.
"That was none of your business. I was fine." Tossing his hair to the side, he avoided her gaze by casting his look to the picture still crumpled in his hand. "And my hand just go cut. It's the blasted barbed wire's fault."
Winry chuckled. "You sound so much like Ed."
A hidden flame combusted in Alphone's heart. So, she was comparing him to Edward, too? Alphonse shot her a death glare. "At least I'm not drooling over you like he did." But he was drooling over her, just not physically.
Winry seemed offended by his comment, reeling backwards as if Alphonse had hit her. "I… I'm sorry about… about Edward, but… Al…"
"What do you know?" He was facing her now, mouth turned in an angry grimace. "You never knew him. Not like I did. You never had to watch him get hurt, or stop him from hurting others. Of all people, you say that you know him better than everyone else. But you didn't. You never did!"
Her voice was soft. "Al-"
"Shut up!" he screamed, throwing a small box from the dresser at her. "Just shut up. You don't know anything. Anything!"
Then he broke down. At first, they were minimal tears, only showing from his bared teeth. But soon his inner bam broke down, and small sobs grew into heated bawls. He doubled over, hiding his face as he cried. Winry just stood there, shocked.
"G-go away," Alphonse sniffed, weakly pushing her from the bed. "Why-why didn't yo-you let m-me die back there?"
Winry said nothing, watching as the youngest sibling spat insult after insult at anything he could. He cursed God, Edward, her. He screamed about Roy, about everyone in the past.
Now she knew what she had to do.
Alphonse squeaked in surprise as he felt warm arms around his neck. Hiccupping, he tried to hold back the few sobs he had left. But he was, in no means, at a position where he could push Winry away. Instead, he cried harder, tilting his face at a strange angle, biting his lip until it bled.
He saw them both, all three of them, sitting together as Pinako took the picture. It was one day before Edward had lost his arm and leg.
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n/a: all done! Blood and sweat went into writing this, I have to say. The grand total is 2678 words. I thought this was cool to write, but I hate winry, though I sort of am starting to be with the idea of al/win. As you can tell, I hate canon pairings.