Heartbeat

In the wake of the Promised Day, Ed marvels over something so small, yet so very precious.


A.N. Another one-shot. Certainly not the first of its kind but those brotherly moments between Ed and Al after Promised Day are so much fun to explore.

Disclaimer: Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

Rating: This story is rated K


The hospital room was almost silent.

If he ignored the soft hum of the machines and monitors; if he tuned out the white noise of the ceiling fan; if he disregarded the quiet chatter of nurses in the hallway, then it would be silent.

And maybe, maybe then, if he strained his ears through the stillness and beyond all of those other little sounds, maybe then he could hear the gentle breathing of his brother, lying so still in the other bed.

Al was sleeping.

For the first time in over five years, after so many endless nights, unable to turn off the world and forget, unable to find the peace of perfect rest, unable to refresh his exhausted mind because his body could never grow exhausted – finally, finally after so long, Al was sleeping.

Such a small thing.

So small and yet that, in and of itself, was so exciting, so momentous, so incredible that Ed was hard-pressed not to wake his brother if only to celebrate this most wonderful occasion. They had celebrated so many little things over the last several hours - every step, every smile, every touch, every smell, every sensation. Al's eyes, his perfect, golden eyes, had widened at the contrast between concrete and grass beneath his bare feet. His hollowed cheeks had lifted in a wide grin when a warm breeze rushed against his skin, tousling his long, unruly hair. And during that first, tentative sip of water the doctors had allowed, Al had seemed ready to cry from the joy of the experience.

Through it all, Ed had watched him, supported him, laughed and cried along with him. So many little moments and yet, so precious – so much to celebrate.

It seemed strange though, to celebrate in the wake of the horrors and tragedies of the day. They had come so close to losing everything. They were still reeling with the reality of it all, the simple fact that somehow, incredibly, they had survived. But not all. So many had been lost that day. Yet so many more had been saved. The awful reality of what could have happened, what might have, if they had failed.

But they didn't.

And here they were, able to celebrate these little moments if only because they had not failed. They had succeeded, against all odds. Perhaps that should be what they were celebrating now. Or perhaps they should be mourning those who had fallen. Or perhaps they should still be standing about, still taking it in, still trying to absorb everything that had happened in such a short span of time.

It seemed strange to be lying in bed, after all that, trying to go to sleep as though nothing had happened, as though nothing had changed. Sleeping felt too simple, too normal a thing to do after a day that could be called anything but normal. It was too normal for Ed anyway.

For Al… it was amazing.

Ed watched his brother. He watched the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the thin hospital sheets. He strained his ears to listen.

He hadn't paid attention to it before, with all of the other little things to focus on, but now, in the still and almost silence of the hospital room, Ed marveled at the wondrous sound of his brother's breath.

Al was breathing.

Oxygen was flowing into his lungs and being dispersed through his blood cells and then carried throughout his body, pumped in a continuous, steady stream by his ever beating heart, before returning to release carbon dioxide back into the air. It was science – but it was more than that. It was life – perfect, precious life.

And it was too far away.

Ed wasn't sure exactly when he moved. He never consciously made the decision, but within the space of a few moments he had evacuated his own bed and sat on the edge of his brother's.

There.

Now he could hear it better. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Ed unconsciously matched his own breathing to that of his brother. Then he yawned as his own body adjusted to the change in oxygen intake. He was tired. After such a long day, after such a hard battle, his body was exhausted, ready for sleep.

But sleeping meant possibly missing something – a moment, a word, a breath. He didn't want to miss anything. It was all too precious, too unreal, like a dream – a peaceful, perfect dream after a too long nightmare and he didn't want to wake up.

He yawned again and covered his mouth with his right hand – his real hand. That, too, was a marvel, but far less so. When he lowered his hand, it came to rest on his brother's chest.

Inhale, exhale. In, out. Up, down. Beat. Beat. Beat.

He registered the flutter beneath his fingers, almost as an afterthought to the steady rise and fall of respiration. But as he recognized the pulse, all thoughts of breathing fled his mind and his own breath was stolen away.

So steady. So strong, hidden within a body, too pale, too thin, too weak. He'd known it was there, logically. Every body had a heart beating through it, supplying life blood to every muscle, every fiber, every tissue. Al's body was no different.

But to feel it now, to sense it's very presence – Ed had to remind himself to breath. It was so perfect, so real. He could scarcely believe and yet…

He wanted… he needed to be closer.

Slowly, gently, he laid his head against his brother's chest, pressing his ear directly above his brother's heart, holding his breath once more, and listening.

Beat. Beat. Beat.

He breathed.

Beat. Beat.

He smiled.

Beat. Beat. Beat.

"Brother?"

Ed froze at the soft, quiet voice.

Beat. Beat. Beat. Beat.

He reluctantly pulled himself away from that perfect sound and sat up to see Al blinking back at him. Embarrassed to be caught acting so strangely, he looked away and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "Sorry, Al. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay." Al grinned. "It's my first time waking up!" He paused, his eyebrows drawing together in thought, and then continued. "Well, actually, I suppose it's my second time since I woke up the first time after we left the Gate… but I wasn't really sleeping then, was I? So I guess this can be counted as my first time waking up from really sleeping."

Ed stared at his brother a moment and then laughed. "How does it feel?"

"Um… I think I'm still tired." Al replied with a yawn of his own.

Ed smiled apologetically. "You've only been sleeping for a few hours. I'm sorry I woke you up. You should go back to sleep."

Al nodded and leaned back into his pillow but didn't close his eyes. He considered his older brother for a moment before asking, "What were you doing, Brother?"

Ed was glad that the darkness concealed his blush. "Nothing. It's silly."

"Tell me."

Ed smiled, unable to deny his brother anything right now. "I was… listening… to your heart beat." He brought his hand down to rest once more over the spot. Al lifted his own hand to cover it.

"What does it sound like?"

Ed chuckled at the unexpected question but didn't hesitate in his answer. "Strong. Like you, Al."

Al's mouth twisted into a perturbed expression. "I don't feel very strong right now."

"Your body may not be," Ed began, meeting his brother's eyes and pressing gently against his chest. "But your heart is. Your soul is. You're the strongest person I know."

Al smiled. "I think you have that backwards, Brother."

Ed didn't reply. He didn't need to. There was no point in arguing about something they would never agree upon. For several minutes, they were content to sit in silence, listening to each other breathing and feeling the steady beat of a strong heart beneath their fingertips.

The still was broken suddenly by two, identical, simultaneous yawns and both boys grinned afterwards.

"You need to sleep, Al." Ed said, finally. He drew his hand away only to find his too thin fingers clasped within his brother's too thin hand. For once, their right arms matched.

"You need to sleep too, Brother. You haven't slept at all yet, have you?" Al looked at him seriously, daring him to lie. Ed smiled, still marveling at the range of expression now apparent on his brother's face. He was like an open book now. "Have you, Brother?"

Ed looked across the room, to his own bed, and recalled how far away it had seemed. He couldn't hear him there, not without straining his ears beyond the gentle din of hospital noises. He frowned. He wouldn't be able to hear his heartbeat at all from over there. He didn't want to miss it. It was still too new, too precious, too much like a dream. He was afraid to sleep – afraid to wake up and find that none of this was real. But he was exhausted. It had been over forty-eight hours now, since he had last slept – forty-eight hours of near constant fighting and running and injury and alchemic feats. He was worn down. Al was right. He needed to sleep, too.

He curled his fingers tightly around his brother's hand and Al squeezed back. As Ed began to pull away again, he found himself caught once more. Looking up, he met his brother's eyes.

Al smiled softly. "You can stay here, if you'd like."

Ed's eyes widened and he sputtered a bit. "I – no – Al, I don't – " He looked away. "I don't want to keep you awake."

"You won't. I don't mind, really. I…" Al smiled sheepishly. "I'd actually like you stay. It's… You're warm."

Ed stared for a moment and then nodded firmly. The bed wasn't very big but Al was rather thin and Ed was… well he wasn't exactly a giant himself despite his recent growth spurt. They managed to make room for each other. Al leaned deep into his pillow, having decided upon first lying down that pillows were truly amazing things, and wrapped his left arm around his brother's shoulder. Ed settled his own head back onto Alphonse's chest, allowing the steady heartbeat to sooth his tired mind. He felt his eyes grow heavy but blinked them open, hastily.

"I'm not crushing you, am I?" He asked quietly.

Al's chest shook with gentle laughter and then vibrated deeply with his words. "No, Brother. Stop worrying. Go to sleep."