The bright white lights of the investigation room shone brightly in Ed's eyes. His bright golden eyes quickly shut. Detective Mitchell couldn't tell if his eyes were shut from the bright lights or from trying to suppress the memories.
"Do you know where your brother is, Edward?" the detective gently put in. Slowly, Ed's eye cracked open, just one. Detective Mitchell decided the eyes closed was suppressing memories.
"It's Ed. Just Ed. If I knew would we be here right now?" Ed answered, finally opening both eyes. Detective Mitchell was surprised to see no grief in the strange eyes. The only things in his eyes were clarity and determination.
"Then call me James. This might take a while. So tell me why you think he's missing, and not just on a crazy trip to Vegas, or across the world," Detective Mitchell asked. He leaned forward in the cold metal chair, wishing more than ever for the lifesaving beverage of coffee.
"Look, to set the record straight, I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. I was always the one with wanderlust. He was the one who wanted to just move on and stay home. Where ever home was at least. He would never just leave, not if he found what he's always wanted," Ed said, leaning forward as well.
"What do you mean by that?" James asked; his eyes focused intently on Ed's. Waiting for answers.
"Well, when we just runts, our dad left. We didn't care. But our mom—man, she was everything. Our world centered on her. I mean, we were like 3. But when she died, it's like we died. We were older by then, around nine years old. By the time I was 15, all I wanted to do was run and run and run. But Al, he was just 14. Wanted to stay where we grew up. It was a pretty small town, anyone would look after him. But he listened to me," Ed said, "and that broke my heart."
"What happened?" James asked.
"Well…" Ed began.
.::.
"But I don't want to go, Ed! I want to stay here with everyone!" Al shouted, his still high pitched voice reverberating throughout the room.
"I can't stay here anymore—it…it hurts too much. Al, come with me. You're all I've got. Please," Ed said, knowing that his brother heard the cracking of his voice, and the saw the wetness in his eyes. He hated it.
"But everything we have is here, Ed!" Al whispered. He felt his resolve wavering. After all, what was he without his brother?
"We can make a life for ourselves anywhere else," Ed finally said, after a long pause. Al knew that that was the all or nothing line. This was it. Possibly never see his brother again, or leave the town he loved so much. Leave everything behind.
"Let's go, brother," Al finally said, with a sigh.
Ed held up his fist and Al bumped his own against it. Al smiled. With his big brother by his side, what could go wrong?
.::.
"That's it?" James asked. "He just left with you? Were you that close?"
Ed waved his hand, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Questions, Questions. I don't know why my brother came along, ok? All I know is that we had nothing but each other, and we weren't going to change that," Ed said, with surprising clarity. James expected tears or at least pain from such a memory.
"I'm not cold. It's the truth," Ed said, as if reading James's mind. He raised a brow.
"Yeah, yeah. But that was years ago. If that affected him that much, why didn't he leave—or stay—then?" James inquired, shifting in his chair.
"As if that affected him. Sure, it changed him, but affected him? Not a chance. We did go through a lot though. What do you expect? A free ride until we were legal? Nah, it was rough. I loved it, he hated it," Ed further explained.
"So, is that why you think he isn't just on a joyride? Because he hated it so much then?"
"Nope. It was because I was rough on him. Mostly, I was mad at myself. I dragged him into this, knowing that it would do this to him. As if I'd tell him that though."
"How so?"
"He likes cats, my brother does. Really, anything that's furry and has four legs. Me? I was always a shiny metal objects kinda guy," Ed paused to flex his prosthetic arm, "A friend helped me with my first arm you know. She was a good friend, back then. She's a good wife now too..."
"Back on topic, please?"
"Right, right. So there was time, up in Boston, that Al found himself a stray…."'
.::.
Ed stared at Al, not showing any expression as Al held up the tabby. The little kitten looked miniscule in his large hands. Another thing that looked off-putting was the expression on his face. No boy with a build like a quarterback should have such a begging face, Ed thought.
"No, Al," were the only words uttered from his mouth.
Al's face crumpled. "Please? It's got no where else to go!" Al protested, clutching the kitten close to himself. He looked at his brother, as if he was a monster.
"Aw, Al, don't give me that look! You and I both know that there is no way we can take care of a cat. No. Way," Ed finalized, already walking away with a swish of his coat.
"Wait! I'll take care of it, Ed. I promise!" Al argued, once more. But already his strong grip on the kitten was loosening, just as his resolve.
"No." Ed repeated. Without turning around to face his brother, he walked away. And because of that, he would never know that Al carefully put the kitten in the soggy box, leaving with all the food he could manage.
And Al would never see the regret that resided in his beloved brother's eyes.
.::.
"Harsh," James commented. He began to drum his fingers against the hard table. He tapped to the tune of an old 80's song, filling the room with the sound of warm fingers against cool metal.
"It was," Ed agreed. He joined the melody of the tapping, joining with his own pattering beat.
"Are you sure he didn't just…leave? All the signs point to it. A troubled past, followed by contentedness could probably freak him out Ed. So tell me now. Are you sure?" James softly put it, already knowing those were the last words the brother wanted to hear.
There was a long empty silence. Ed took the moment to finally examine the room. Cold walls, painted a sterile white color. Linoleum floors, plastic and hard to the touch. A slim window to the outside of the room. No one was there. A long table, where he and James were currently settled, and three metal chairs. Ed couldn't help but think that Al should be in the third chair, with him.
"Maybe, James. I just don't know! Ok? I just don't know! All I know is that my baby brother is gone! My brother, James! Do have any idea what it's like to loose your only brother, the only thing you have? Do you?" Ed finally shouted out, standing up hard and fast. The metal chair fell behind him. The clunk filled the room, echoing in the silence that followed.
"I don't. And I never will. But we have to find him. And to do that, I need you to stay calm, Ed," James said, watching as Ed slowly picked up the chair and sat back down. He would never admit it, but the look in Ed's eyes, finally filled with real emotion terrified him. Those were eyes that would do anything.
"Yeah. Yeah, you're right, James. Thanks, man," Ed said. He bent his head down, as if in apology.
"No problem," James shrugged.
"When we were kids, Al would hate it when I got mad, y'know. Too bad he's not here to say, 'Ed! You're being rude!'" Ed chuckled.
"Tell me about when you were kids. Before the whole drama with your mom," James said. He knew Ed thought it was for the case, but James knew that by now he was intrigued by the past of this boy. He was in—hook, line, and sinker.
Ed let out a real laugh, snorting through gasps of air. "When we were kids it was nothing like it is now. When we were kids I would smack him over the kid with dictionary-sized books. I was a pretty terrible brother," Ed panted out. He seemed years younger when he laughed, James noted.
"Really were you that terrible?" James asked.
Ed's face still held the mirth of his laugh, though his voice went back to the serious tone James was accustomed to. "No. I had my moments. Nobody messed around with my brother. Actually, there was this one time when I was 8 and he was 7…"
.::.
"Hands off my brother!" Ed shouted; arms crossed across his tiny chest. His face was set in a frown that would be more suited to a grown man.
"Says who?" the bully asked, shoving Al once more. Al tripped and landed harmlessly in the sandbox, but the damage was done.
"Says me!" Ed said, gearing up for a fight. The bully towered over Ed, even though they were in the same grade.
"Ed, don't worry about, it doesn't hurt! See I'm all better," Al tried to argue, standing up, but wobbling slightly. He looked at his brother, nervously whistling through the gap his two missing front teeth made.
"Nobody. Nobody messes with my brother!" Ed shouted before lunging at the bully with the force his body could muster.
An hour found him sitting on his mother's lap, and she lightly pressed ice to his slowly bruising eye.
"Oh, Edward, what have I told you? Use your words, not your fists!" Ed's mother lightly scolded, holding her son close.
"Yeah, brother! He could've hurt you real bad!" Al said, sitting on the floor firmly, relatively unscathed, save for a small cut on his knee.
"Alphonse, could you be a dear and get your brother some more ice?" she asked, carefully letting Ed stand on the floor.
Al nodded quickly, scrabbling for the kitchen. As soon as he was out of the room, Ed's mother asked him, "You aren't this nice to him at home. In fact, I recall you pushing your brother around a bit yourself."
Ed scowled at the ground, crossing his arms and answered, "You said it yourself!"
"Pardon me?" she asked, wrinkling her smooth brow.
Ed's scowl deepened and his stance steadied, "He's my brother."
.::.
"You don't seem like that bad of a brother. You seem to have—I mean you seem to really love him," James said, wincing at his own insensitivity.
"I'm a pretty crummy brother. Loving him isn't enough," Ed said, closing his eyes, closing off as he had at the beginning.
Realization hit James like a ton of bricks. "You don't think I can help you, do you?" James asked.
"No. I like ya, James, but you can't so this. I honestly believe no one can help Al right now," Ed answered, his eyes still squeezed shut tight.
"Why are you here then?" James asked, feeling more and more like he'd been duped.
"Some one needs to know the story. Besides it would be weird if I didn't at least report to the police, imagine what people would think? I'm not interested in being a murder suspect," Ed answered, leaning back.
"True. Y'know…" James began, trailing off.
"Yeah?" Ed prompted, opening his eyes.
"You're pretty young to be so bitter. So let's go get some coffee," James said. Standing up, and offering his hand.
Ed stared at him, his gaze firm, and clapped his hand against James's. "Yeah. That sounds pretty good right now."
.::.
The two new friends walked out of the building, the sunlight blinding them worse than the lights in the investigation room did. The sunlight felt warm against their faces, and for a moment all was calm.
Until James heard the choked back laugh coming from Ed's throat, obviously mingled with a chocked back sob. The tears leaked out slowly.
"What?" James asked, knowing fully well what the boy was feeling. James mused silently that his wife would love this sort of thing—drama good enough for a story.
"He'll come back, I know it," Ed said, tears trickling towards his lips, and shining in his eyes as his grin widened, "He'll come back."
"But how do you know?"
"How can you not know?"
"What do you mean?"
"How can you not know that there's nothing—nothing —stronger, more mountainously forceful, than the love between two brothers?"
Yes, Ed decided, he'll be back. Because we're brothers.
