Philia
Autumn 1910
The autumn comes in crisp and cunning, cutting through the humidity of the summer like a knife. It eats what's left of the summer it alive, swallowing all leftover entrails of heat and warmth that might have been left until the days are as cold as deep winter might be.
The moon outside of the bedroom window is but a sliver. It's the last slice of light before the entire sky goes dark in the coming nights and the stars take up their full residency.
None of this is on the mind of Edward Elric, however, as he lays in his bed trying to make himself as small as possible. His right leg is curled up to his chest and held secure with his remaining left arm. He wishes that perhaps if he could just make himself small and compact enough, then the white, linen sheets of the bed would swallow him up whole and he would sink into another dimension far from here.
A man came by today. It was the first time in a month that Ed had seen another face that wasn't Granny's or Winry's (and perhaps Al's too, though what was left of him didn't exactly count much for a face.) The man introduced himself as Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang and claimed he had ended up here on an accidental lead searching for two master alchemists, Edward and Alphonse Elric. It was clear by the look on his face that this wasn't a rabbit hole he had meant to fall into.
The Lieutenant Colonel was shadowed by a woman, also an officer, but Ed had missed her name. Not that it mattered, he didn't care for either of them the minute the man pushed open the door and barged in without any regard for Granny.
Ed wondered what the Lieutenant Colonel had hoped to find when he sought them out at the Rockbell home. He had clearly seen the monster that lurked it the Elrics' basement, horror still painted his expression and dust and dried blood caked his heavy military boots. He knew what he was getting himself into when he chose to peruse the boys further after finding an abandoned home full of wretched, bloodied things.
There had been yelling when he had seen the state of Ed. He had wrenched Ed up in front of him by the fabric of his oversized shirt and yelled in his face. Fury flooded the Rockbell residence in the form of Roy Mustang.
But Ed had let the apprehension grow on the man's face. He wasn't going to deny the man's accusations that he'd done something horrible, that he'd fucked up, that he would be punished for his sins.
If the government wants to lock him up, then so be it.
Mustang only let Ed go on the account of Al, who startled him so much that he nearly dropped Ed to the floor. Al had stood there wavering on his metal feet like a flag in the wind and told the Lieutenant Colonel to let Ed go. He voice was weak, broken, and still sounding like that of a child, but his fearsome appearance more than made up for the intimidation factor.
Whatever Mustang had been expecting of the younger Elric, it wasn't this.
At some point, someone had realized pointless yelling was going to get them nowhere. Mustang could yell until he was blue in the face and it wouldn't elicit so much as a twitch from Edward Elric. He would remain as still as a stone, as silent as a statue.
So the proposition was made, the deal offered, and the cover story drawn up.
Granny pushed Ed's wheelchair up to the table and set a cup of tea in front of him. Ed didn't touch it and it grew colder and colder with each tick of the cuckoo clock.
Mustang spoke while Ed watched on with glazed eyes. He never responded, never reacted. Everything drifted past him without care. Sentences few over him, only a few words getting snagged by his brain. The words "automail" and "military" and "State Alchemist" and "research".
It didn't matter what he was saying word for word, Ed knew exactly what he was being asked to do.
The man and his lieutenant left without forcing him to give them an answer. He left an envelope with Granny to give to Ed in case he wanted to contact him. When Granny had shut the door behind the military pair, she threw envelope on the table and scowled.
Ed said nothing, sitting there like a broken marionette and letting Al push his wheelchair back to his room.
.oOo.
Ed slowly flips over in his bed and faces where Al sits when he can no longer bear it. There's an itching inside of him, a crawling in his own skin. There's a voice inside him that cries out to him and tells him to run. Not run like a coward, so afraid and weak and wanting to flee, but to run on two legs so he can feel his body do something.He's forgotten what it feels like to know his heart is running free in his chest.His legs—or leg rather—feel tethered to the bed, there are weights strapped to his limb and his arm is tied above his head to one of the wooden posts.
God, he has to get out of here.
But all his restless anguish is kept locked somewhere deep inside of him. He doesn't move, he doesn't squirm despite the inferno that rages inside his chest telling him to.
Al sits in the corner shrouded in shadow. Not even the light from the stars and the waning moon reaches him there. The armor has its knees pulled up to its chest, making itself look small and childish in a connotative sense. In a denotative one, it still looks as large as ever, much larger than Ed feels now, made so small in his bed.
Not for the first time since the transmutation, Ed wonders what his little brother is thinking. What he must be feeling—if anything—since all of this has come to be. Ed knows what it's like to have his appendages ripped from his body, but he has no concept of what it's like to have his very life ripped out of him and then brought back again only to be cast into some Hell made up of a metal coffin.
Al has his helmet resting face down on his folded-up arms, and for a minute Ed can pretend he is sitting there sleeping.
If only.
And something about that pathetic image of his brother, the one of him sitting between the dresser and the wall like some forgotten luggage trying to call himself into a sense of sleep, makes every bit of feeling well up inside of Ed. It's an ebbing thing and it quiets the burning sensation to move, only to replace it with something worse.
Ed's always categorized feelings in three different ways. He's always had trouble with expressing how he feels, so he's made a system to quantify it to help make sense of it all. There are feelings that are yellow, feelings that are surface level and short lived. They're like a bruise on the knee, they're just little flashes of happiness, flashes of hurt that leave no lingering behind.
There are feeling that are red. They're hot to the touch, and they well up in him all at once in fiery bursts of something.They remind him of a bleeding cut, one that stings and burns, but heals within the week. Red is to be overjoyed, to be angry with the wrath of a dust storm in the summer desert. They stir up trouble and eat away at the shrubbery, but in the end every red emotion burns itself out until it's nothing more than a simmering sliver of nothing.
And then there is blue. Blue is so much harder to put into words, and they only way Ed can begin to think to describe it is heavy. It weighs down a heart and leaves scar tissue tangled around the aorta. It's a happiness that comes with a price, one that empties him out and leaves echoes reverberating in his throat. It's a hurt that doesn't go away, it jabs into his spine when he bends over to tie his shoe.
So everything he is feeling now is so much bluer than anything he's felt before. It's been a full month since everything went so fucking wrong and he can still feel it all like it was yesterday. Every single thing he has felt between now and the transmutation sits like rocks in his stomach. It's overwhelming.
The scene before him hurts. It hurts to see that his brother is the one hurting,but refuses to acknowledge it. Al cannot feel for fuck's sake.
Ed doesn't understand why it was Al who got the short end of the stick. It was Ed who insisted they try to bring Mom back, it was Edwho pushed and pushed for it despite Al's hesitation. All of this is Ed's sin, yet Al was the one who took the fall.
Ed feels the tears well up in his eyes, but he won't let them spill over. He can't now. He can't wallow in his own self-pity or feel bad for what he did. He knows he's selfish, but even pitying himself for a moment would be too much, not when Al's suffering is so much greater than his. He won't cry when Al can't.
Ed must have unconsciously made some kind of noise as he tried to stifle his tears, for the next thing he knows, Al no longer has his helmet buried in his arms, but is rather sitting there and staring directly at him.
"Brother?" Al whispers in a voice so small that doesn't match up with his hulking appearance.
Instead of answering, Ed adverts his gaze. If he opens his mouth then he fears everything he's trying to keep tucked away will spill out of him like a broken tap set to full blast. If he starts, he'll never be able to shut it off.
Something like longing creeps up within him. It reminds him of the days after his mother's death when he wanted nothing more than to be held. It was an infantile wish, but it was simple and vulnerable and raw. Still, in those days Ed had to bury that desire within himself and move on. If there was no one there to hold him, fine, but he wouldn't let Al suffer the same fate as him, and so he devoted that longing to be held into holding his little brother himself so that Al would not have to feel the same emptiness Ed did.
So that's just what he'll have to do now. He's going to have to put all of this suffering and longing and desperation behind him so he can help Al who has it so much worse than he does.
For the first time, Ed wonders at what point Al became the most important person in his life. At what point did Al hang his chrysalis in his heart without letting it fall down? Ed was so certain that he was somehow irrevocably broken inside after Mom died. That he could never love again, not after the loss of Mom had shattered that ability, but he had been mistaken. Love wasn't a quick strike to the heart, it didn't race into him with lightning fast reflexes, instead it was a slow creep. It is slowly, through days and weeks and months and years that love finds a home in a heart.
Was it after Mom died that Al became his most important person? Was it on Yock Island when Al had finally taken up his residency inside him when they had nothing but each other and the ants that crawled the sandy beach floor?
Or perhaps it was when the purple lightning of wrong burned around them and he watched Al's clothes fall to the ground like they had never been filled in the first place. Perhaps it was the clawing realization that this was it, without Al Ed was completely and utterly alone in this world with no one left to care what happened to him. Without Al he was destine to bleed out on the basement floor, with Granny and Winry to stumble in on his rotting corpse a week later. It was clearly that same love and desperation that drove Ed to the point of screaming that he was willing to give up anything, anything so long as it meant Al could have another chance at life. Be it an arm, a leg, a head, a heart. Anything would suffice.
There'll be no kingdom come today.
So the question came down to what Ed would do about all of this. He had pulled Al back from the edge and tethered him to the earth, but that was not enough. He couldn't go on watching his brother living this half-life and pretending all was well for his sake. He might have been crippled, but he wasn't deaf and he wasn't blind; he knew the way Al sat in the corner at night, curled into a shaking, little ball and making the closest imitations to sobs that he could to try and find some solace in all of this when he thought Ed had finally fallen asleep. This isn't what he deserved.
The words of the Lieutenant Colonel came back to him.
"If you join the State Alchemists, assuming you pass the exam, you would have complete access to all alchemy research across the nation. Perhaps then you could find a way to get yours and your brother's bodies back."
The Colonel Lieutenant phrased it like it was an offer, like Ed could decline anytime if he so chose to, but Ed had a sinking feeling the man full-heartedly believed Ed would follow him to the capital soon after.
Ed is pretty sure he made up his mind the minute he saw the Lieutenant Colonel's boots step over the barrier and into the house. It wasn't a question of whether he would or not, the commitment was already set in stone the minute the proposition was made. Ed will take the exam, pass it with flying colors, become a State Alchemist, and then he will chase every lead to every far corner of Amestris if it brings him even an inch closer to getting Al his body back.
He owes Al at least that much.
Ed flops back over in his bed to face Al who sits there in the same exact position as he was before, glowing eyes trained onto Ed's own gold ones.
"Al," Ed calls to him in a whisper, and realizes it's probably the first time he's addressed his brother by name since everything happened. Before, it was like his entire mouth was filled up with cotton balls with the word guilt penciled across them that refused to allow him to speak. He's just going to have to learn to swallow them now.
Al gingerly stands, the metal plates of his armor scratching and scraping against each other as he does.
"Brother, what's wrong?" the concern and metallic echo warping his voice.
"Nothing." Ed shakes his head, trying to gather his thoughts. He had no plan what he was going to say to Al when he called him, all he knew was that if he didn't reach out to him across the endless void that had opened up in the middle of the room where the carpet should be, then there was a chance he wouldn't be able to ever reach him at all. "It's nothing, really—it's just—" and he extends his hand to where Al stands and beckons him over.
He's never been any good with words, it was always his actions that spoke more clearly for him anyway.
He's just going to have to practice, and now's as good of chance as any.
"Come here, Al."
Al steps over to the bed as gently as he can, which isn't very gently at all. His feet echo heavy and empty and blue against the wooden boards of the floor. When he makes it over to the bed, Ed motions for him to sit, and he does with slow and practiced movements. He lowers his heavy, steel body onto the edge of the foot of the bed, perched like a bird, ready to take flight at any moment.
For the past month it has been such an awkward song and dance between the two of them, when it's never been like that before. Always a polite curtsy here, a sidestep there, a pirouette when it's called for. Al always being excessively helpful and cheery in the presence of others, trying too hard to be strong for others when he can't begin to be strong for himself. He never stands in one place for too long, always steering clear of sharp and dangerous objects and spending way more time on little, mundane tasks than one should take on them because he's forgotten how to be gentle.
They haven't talked much since it happened; what is there to say? They've hardly breathed a word to each other in the month since everything went wrong, and even then the few words that they've shared have been ones that have been only about the present. No talk of Mom or Human Transmutation or what either of them must be going through right now, nothing that will make their minds travel back to that night in the basement. There's a rift between them now, one that just so recently opened up.
All of that is reflected in Al's posture now, too alert and much more attentive than he should be when he's only in the presence of his brother.Ed doesn't want his little brother to be afraid of hurting him when he was the one to hurt Al in the first place. He's the reason Al is having to endure all of this at all.
"I want you to be the first to know," Ed starts, taking Al's left gauntlet into his hand despite Al's slight protest, "that I'm going to take the Lieutenant Colonel up on his offer."
"But Brother—"
"Al, I'm going to become a State Alchemist like he told me to and I am going to get you your body back. You can't argue with me on this one, I've already made up my mind."
A soft keening noise comes from Al, one Ed's never heard and isn't sure what to make of, but there's a lot of new things to Al after he's trapped him in this metal birdcage.
He has to put this sentiment into words. It has to mean something, let it be a mantra or a song or a statement so he can carry it with him and repeat it when the skies go gray.
"Alphonse," Ed starts, clearing his throat and looking Al directly into the empty eyeholes of the helmet. He so rarely calls his brother by his full name, only when they're on the cusp of the next world.
"Whatever happens, whatever we find out there, I promise I will find a way to resort your original body and bring it back to you."
Ed looks up at his little brother, trying to find some reaction in his face, but there is nothing there but the unchanging metal.
Al tips his head down just slightly. "You know it's going to be dangerous. If you do this there's a chance you'll get hurt or you'll—you'll—" he pauses like he's taking a breath to steady himself, but there was no sound of inhale, no lungs to breathe it in.
"Brother, you don't have to do this. You don't have to throw yourself into something so dangerous for me."
"Al, it's my fault you don't have a body anymore. I've made up my mind already, I'm doing this."
Al nods, it's a hesitated nod, but a nod nonetheless.
"If you go, then I'm going with you. We can both get our State Alchemist certification."
"Don't be stupid, Al, you don't need to become a dog of the military as well. Just me having to associate with those bureaucratic bastards will be too much."
"No, we have to go together, we have to do this together.We only have each other left, so we have to watch each other's backs." He places a giant hand on Ed's left shoulder and Ed refused to flinch despite Al's too tight grasp. "Besides, I have to get you your arm and leg back anyway."
Is it possible to hear a sad smile in only a person's voice? Is it possible to see the heaviness that sits on unfeeling shoulders like tangible weights?
"You know you don't have to do that, Al. It's my fault in the first place, and I'm the reason that you're—" but Ed's cut off when a giant finger is brought to his lips in a shushing motion.
"Ed, don't. You gave up your arm for me. Your arm.Don't ever blame yourself for what happened, Ed. Never."
Ed laughs, a little tinkering laugh that doesn't display the whole of the love for his little brother that wells up within him at that moment.
"You don't have to, Al. I'll get automail and then I'll be fine. My limbs are nearly as important as your body."
"Brother," Al says, and it's the most confident Ed has heard him sound since he has lost everything and has had to begin to relearn it all. "I amgoing to do this. I'm going to restore your body like you'll restore mine. It's equivalent exchange after all."
And that was one argument Edward could never argue against.
He wonders what he must have done in his past life to deserve a brother as good and caring as Al. Ed knows that that something must have taken place in a past life and not in this current one because he hasn't done anything worth in this life. He's only sinned and fallen and dragged Al all the way down to Hell with him, even when Al deserved anything butsuch treatment.
"Okay, then equivalent exchange. I'll restore you to your original body, you'll restore my arm and leg."
Al's helmet sits motionless and unchanging, but Ed can feel the smile hidden beneath.
Maybe, maybe if he manages to get this right, then he can begin to start to pay off his debts to the world. Perhaps if he doesn't fuck this one up, then he can start to clear his name.
Silence washes back over them, but it isn't the same silence as before. This one is peaceful and warm and settling. It's nothing like the sticky, scratchy silences of unsaid words and things that are known but never spoken of. This quiet feels like a quilt wrapped around his shoulders, soft and comfortable. It's the same warm feeling he gets inside of him when he's drank a mug of Mom's hot chocolate after a cold day walking home from school.
Al lingers on the edge of Ed's bed and Ed doesn't tell him to leave. Ed hardly takes up half the bed anyway, and he likes having his brother so close. It keeps it fresh in his mind what he needs to do.
If he's going to become a State Alchemist, he's going to need to get automail. He can't show up in Central with only two limbs and a wooden crutch. That's not going to cut it. Besides, who knows what dangers lie ahead of them if they take this road.
Ed lays back down, burying his face into his pillow and pulling the blanket up over his shoulder. He's almost asleep again when he hears Al shift beside him, feels the bed dip as he moves.
"Brother?" he whispers.
"What is it, Al?"
"I—" he stops, trying to sort himself out. This makes Ed turn his full attention back to him and he pushes himself back into a sitting position. Whatever this is, it's clearly bothering his little brother.
"I hope you know I don't blame you for what happened," he says, even quieter than the whisper.
At this, Ed says nothing.
"I mean," he fiddles with his gauntlets, clasping and unclasping the giant, leather fingers. He turns away from Ed's eyes and looks down at his lap. "You're the reason I'm still here, the only reason I'm not dead. I hope you know I could never blame you for that. Need I remind that you gave up your arm for me. That's not something I'll ever be able to repay you for."
Ed opens his mouth to argue about it, but closes it immediately. He doesn't care what Al says, he knows he's the fuck up, the reason they lost everything they didn't know they already had. Still, what Al says is true, he didgive up his arm to bring Al back.
Instead of protesting, Ed just smiles.
"Of course I did. I love you Al, there was no way I was going to lose you."
A small noise escapes Al, and Ed wonders why he's waited so long to tell him those exact words.
He's never said it so openly, it has just been unspoken though every interaction of theirs, but he feels it's important to say now when the moment is so fragile and he isn't sure how much longer they'll have of this small moment together before they force the earth to tilt even farther on its axis.
Whatever canyon had opened up between them since the transmutation, whatever earthquake split the land between them and shifted them to separate tectonic plates has been sealed closed completely like it never existed in the first place.
Ed feels something on his head, and he looks up to see Al tousling his hair the way he always used to to Al when he wanted to express his love and words didn't cut it.
Love burns inside of Ed, somewhere deep in the cavity of his chest. It doesn't burn like a fire, hot and angry, but it burns in a pleasant way. This may not be the same love he felt towards his mother, love without reason or care, but this is still love all the same. Al isthe most important person he has right now, and probably the most important person he'll ever have.
This is a love that comes with a currency. Debts they both feel they need to repay to the other, but although it isn't the same love Ed shared with his mother, that doesn't diminish its value. It's still worth the world to Ed.
Ed looks up at his brother and smiles, and although he cannot see it, Ed feels Al smile back at him.
"I love you too, Brother. Now, get some rest, you're going to have a busy day tomorrow."
