Alphonse spooned some stew into three bowls, casting worried glances at the couch in the living room every now and again as he did. All he could see over the back of the couch was Winry's blonde head, but judging by the way she was just staring at her lap, Ed wasn't awake yet.

The installment of his automail . . . well, Al knew it had never been a particularly pleasant experience for his brother. In fact, from what Winry had told him long ago, the connection of automail to nerves was one of the most painful experiences a human body could be subjected to, but in the years Ed had possessed automail, Alphonse had never heard him scream like that. It was almost animalistic, something feral and raw and completely horrifying. Even now, hours later, Alphonse was still shaken from the experience, and that just made him feel all the more weak and selfish.

Even more, though, was how he had felt after the installation was complete. Ed was nothing but a screaming, crying wreck, and Alphonse wanted to hold him and reassure him that everything was okay, that his little brother was there and he would keep him safe, but just the touch of his hard, metal skin sent Edward into a delirious, terrified frenzy, and Alphonse was forced to relinquish him to Mustang and Winry's care.

That had cut Al to his very soul.

If Alphonse couldn't even be there for his brother, when he needed him the most, what good was he?

No, that was ridiculous. Edward was the one that had endured the unthinkable. He had spent months alone, tortured and had his mind all but destroyed. Al had no room to feel sorry for himself.

But that didn't mean it still didn't hurt, though . . .

Alphonse forcibly crushed that selfish train of thought. He was leaving in just a few short days to find a way to heal his brother. Once that was done, things could go back to normal. Well, as normal as they were for their lives, anyway. Ed would be able to recognize him, and maybe after a little bit of therapy, things could be almost the way they used to be . . .

Al noticed a sudden resistance on his gauntlet and glanced around to see Roy holding a halting hand against his wrist. He met the Colonel's dark gaze inquiringly. "I think two bowls will do for now, at least until he wakes up," Roy said kindly, taking the empty bowl from Al's hand and placing it back on the counter.

Al made a sighing sound, more out of habit than any sort of need, his gaze traveling to glance past the kitchen window at the dusky twilight stealing over the city. "He's been out for hours now. Are you sure we don't need to call Doctor Silas?"

"We put a whole lot of strain on his system today," Roy said, picking up a couple of glasses and filling them in the sink. "He just needs some time to recover. Not to mention with the scale of his flashback this time . . . well, I would hate for him to wake up to a relatively unfamiliar presence."

The Colonel had a point, Al supposed.

"So, when are you going to tell him?"

Alphonse flinched. That was something he didn't want to think about, much less do. "I . . . I don't know," he said, setting spoons in each bowl. "I haven't really thought about it."

"You said you were leaving right after Winry," Roy pointed out, picking up a dirty dish from the sink and a wet washcloth. He ran the cloth over it with meticulous care, scrubbing away all the remaining food in the soapy water. "You have to be the one to tell him, and soon. I don't think he'd appreciate finding out at the last minute."

"I know," Al murmured, leaning against the counter. "I know, it's just . . . well, I guess I'm scared to tell him. He's going to be so upset . . . I hate seeing him like that."

Roy set the dish aside and reached for another, and Al studiously kept his gaze from his. "I know, Alphonse," he said, his low voice gentle. "But you and I both know that the longer you wait, the worse it'll be. For the both of you."

He was right. As much as Ed argued against it, the Colonel usually was. It was so strange; the other night, when Alphonse told him he was leaving, he had been so certain, so sure that he was making the right decision for his brother. Roy had been the hesitant one, the one that had reservations about the whole idea, but now it seemed their roles were reversed, and Alphonse wasn't sure. Now that he was confronted with the actual deed, with telling Ed, he wasn't sure if he could.

But Roy was looking at him. Al felt his eyes, and when he finally dared to look, he saw something that surprised him. Instead of the blank, indifferent mask he was used to seeing, he saw something else.

He had captured glimpses of it before in only the past few weeks, always directed at Ed when he was at his most vulnerable, but never at Al. It was something soft and reassuring, like the look on their mother's face when she told them it was okay to be afraid of the dark. It was gentle and forgiving and open, and somehow, Al felt some of his anxiety start to ebb away.

So he nodded and he felt his soul smile a bit. "I'll tell him," he promised. "I'll tell him tonight."

Roy smiled at him, something like pride in his eyes and Al wasn't sure why it was there, but it made him feel good somehow. "Good."

He gathered the glasses, Al grabbed the soup bowls and they both made their way to the living room. His eyes were immediately drawn to Edward as if subjected to some kind of magnetic force, and he couldn't help but notice the way Roy glanced, too.

His brother was still out, wrapped in his blanket with his head peeking over the top, cradled in Winry's lap. A cool clothe was draped over his forehead, fighting off the fever he usually got after automail installation. Winry ran her long fingers through his hair, separating strands of gold like rays of the sun, her other hand wrapped around the side of his neck in what was probably supposed to be a soothing gesture, though Al knew that if Ed were awake, he would have never allowed the contact on such a sensitive area.

Ed's face suddenly scrunched up, the first signs of an arriving nightmare. His breathing quickened, a low whine escaping his lips, but Winry leaned over him, smoothing away the grimace with her gentle hands and Ed slowly relaxed again in her lap.

It just made another stab of envy knife its way through Al's soul, and again, Alphonse had to forcibly stifle it. Ed would have to learn to rely on others while he was away. It was best if he got a head start on it while Al was still around, right?

Alphonse stopped in front of his childhood friend, offering her a bowl as he did. She glanced up and gave him a smile, situating Ed's head gently before accepting the dish. "Thanks, Al."

Alphonse lowered himself carefully onto the adjacent couch next to where Roy had settled, mindful of his sharp spikes and metal ridges against the upholstery, and handed the Colonel his bowl.

"Thank you," he said, tucking into the meal almost hesitantly, his eyes never wavering from Ed's small form.

Now that he had his automail, he almost looked whole, as if when he awoke, he would be normal. He would stretch, freak out that Winry was so close to him while he slept, demand to know why everyone was staring at him, then bounce off the couch and out the door, leaving Al to chase after him. Alphonse would give anything for that.

Ed stirred.

All movement stopped. Winry put her bowl down on the side table and Roy set his own aside, then they watched as he frowned, his head moving back and forth as he tried to wrest away from his feverish sleep.

"We should probably start talking," Roy advised, glancing at Al and Winry. "It'll help him figure out where he is."

Alphonse thought that was probably a good idea, then felt bad for not thinking of it himself.

"Did you guys get finish getting all of his bandages changed?" Winry asked. Mustang had thought it would be a good idea for them to redress his wounds and replace his bandages while he was out of it, since it would save him some stress and embarrassment later. Alphonse was even able to see to some of Ed's touchier injuries, and the ones that he was too ashamed of to let Alphonse or anyone else tend to without a fight.

Alphonse nodded. "Yeah, we fixed all of them up. Hopefully when Silas comes tomorrow he won't have to do anything about them this time." Ed hated people messing with that sort of thing, and even more so now when he couldn't see what they were doing.

Ed's real hand clenched and unclenched, then he slowly opened his eyes.

Then they widened and he froze, he breathing catching as he stopped, listening.

Winry had frozen, too, then resumed her stroking of his hair. "Hey, Ed, how are you—"

That was all she got out before Ed shot up, expression panicked as he brushed her off and scrambled to the other side of the couch, his body lurching noticeably to the right with the sudden addition of automail. He tried to get to his feet, but he got his automail foot caught around his blanket and he fell over the end of the sofa, landing face down in a heap on the floor with a pained yelp.

"Brother!" Alphonse was on his feet before anyone, rushing to his brother's side as fast as he dared.

Some of the terror on Ed's face muted at the sound of Al's voice, and for a moment, Alphonse felt a little more validated. "Al?" he asked, something terribly hopeful in his raspy voice. He tried to push himself up, but couldn't seem to manage it with the way the blanket was wrapped around his legs and how he held his prosthetic arm as dead weight.

"I'm right here, Brother," Al assured him. He put a careful leather gauntlet on Ed's real arm, applying a gentle pressure when Ed tried to pull away. "Please, stop," he said quietly. "You'll hurt yourself."

Something flickered behind Ed's dulled eyes and he stilled. Then he seemed to remember something and his brows knit together in confusion. "Al, what's going on? Where are we?" His hand reached out to brush the carpet beside his face experimentally, then up to touch his throat.

It was a common question, one he asked almost every time he woke up, like he needed to be reassured that this wasn't a dream. It broke Alphonse's heart to see his older brother so uncertain of himself. It was worse knowing that Ed knew it, too, and seeing how hard he tried to hide it. But if he had known there were other people in the room, no doubt he wouldn't have asked at all. "We're in the living room," Al supplied, keeping a steadying hand on Ed as his other gauntlet untangled the blanket from his legs. "I made stew, but you can't eat it from down here. Let me help you to the couch." Without waiting for further permission, Alphonse slowly pulled him to his feet.

Ed blinked at the sensation, swaying unsteadily on his feet and Al had to keep a firm grip on his brother to keep him from falling. "My arm . . ." He lifted it before his body, slower than he had ever moved it previously, as if he wasn't sure if it was really there or not. His real hand followed, holding his silver wrist. "She fixed it?" he asked. Then his eyes widened in remembrance, the arm falling to his side. "Al . . . is she okay? I didn't hurt her, did I?"

"I'm fine, Ed," Winry said. She and Mustang were both on their feet, hovering a safe distance away.

Ed gasped at the voice, almost falling over himself when he quailed back, but Al held him steady. "It's okay, Brother. It's just Winry."

Blond brows frowned in irritation, his cheeks burning. "I know her voice, Al. I'm not an idiot." Alphonse didn't bother feeling too hurt. He knew Ed was only upset with himself, trying desperately to save a little face in front of everyone else. "Winry . . . who all is here?"

"I'm here," Roy said, again making Ed flinch, though not as badly as before. "That's it."

Ed nodded, reaching out his real hand to touch the automail arm at his side, then the fresh dressing encircling his still-healing throat. His hand froze there. "You messed with my bandages?" he asked, another frown on his face, this time angry and embarrassed. He ran an analyzing hand up his bare torso, brushing against all of the new and replaced linens, his scowl only deepening. "You messed with them while I was out of it?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Fullmetal," Roy said dismissively. "You know it has to be done. You don't seem to mind it as much when you're asleep."

"It's my body!" he hissed, bending over with Al's help to grab the blanket around his ankles. "You don't have to right to go poking around it, doing whatever you please while I'm unconscious!" His cheeks were flushed in humiliation as he wrapped the cloth around himself with a single practiced hand, a vain attempt to hide his body from sight.

"Brother, it's okay," Alphonse said before Ed and the Colonel started tearing into one another. How was he supposed to leave Ed here by himself with Roy if Ed couldn't trust him with the more personal things? "The Colonel and I just patched you up so Doctor Silas won't have to tomorrow. We thought you'd be happier if you didn't have to know about it."

Ed was practically seething. His eyes narrowed as he glared somewhere to over Al's right shoulder. "There are a lot of things I don't know about anymore," he said pointedly. "I don't want what happens to my body to be on that list."

If Alphonse had possession of a mouth, he would be grimacing. "I'm sorry, Brother. We were just trying to help . . ."

"I get plenty of that, too," he hissed, shrugging Alphonse off roughly and almost falling in the process. He stumbled on his repaired automail, barely catching himself, then reached out low with his real hand, searching for something familiar to latch on to that wasn't a person.

Alphonse shrank back. Ed was angry with him again. It was like no matter how hard he tried, he always did it wrong. Instead of making things better for his brother, he ended up making them worse, making Ed more uncomfortable than he already was.

Suddenly, Winry brushed past him and straight up to Ed, stopping before him with her jaw set and fire in her eyes. Edward froze, hearing her approach, but unsure what to make of it. "Winry?" he guessed before frowning. "Look, Win, I appreciate—gah!" he yelped when Winry's hand slapped the side of his head. "What was that for?!" he demanded, rubbing the sore spot and ducking away from her.

She didn't let him off that easy, though. She snagged his shoulder in a fierce grip. "I didn't have my wrench," she growled, like that was some kind of explanation. "Edward Elric, what do you think you're doing?"

He glared in her general direction, his real arm wrapped protectively around his head. "What's it look like? I'm going upstairs."

"Yeah, well, you're going the wrong way," Winry hissed.

Alphonse didn't realize it was possible for Ed's face to get any redder. "Shut up, Winry! You try it without looking and see if you don't get mixed up every now and then!"

"That's the point!" she shouted, her hand tightening around his real arm. "I wouldn't be staggering around like an idiot! I'd ask for help!"

Ed tried to shake her hand away. "You're a little late, we've already had this conversation! I know, I need to ask for help and all that crap, but I want to be awake for it!"

Alphonse suddenly understood. Months of being locked away, tortured . . . all that time, he had no control over anything. People touched him whenever it suited them, cruelly so. It made sense that this would be something Ed would want complete control over, to know about and monitor the only way he could without being able to see. If he couldn't feel, he couldn't know, and his sense of touch was Ed's last line of defense.

Winry didn't give in her grip. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe they don't want you awake for it because they don't like seeing you in pain?!"

Ed might have winced, but the expression was gone before Al could be sure. "That's not the point . . . I need to know." Some of the anger was dissipating from his voice, which made Alphonse concerned. They were just getting started into one of their fights. Ed was supposed to get angrier and angrier until Winry whacked him over the head with a wrench and called the fight finished. He was acting his usual brash self just a minute ago . . .

"The only thing that knowing does for you is make you upset!" Winry snapped. "They just made things easier for you! Why are you giving them such a hard time about it?"

Ed tried to pull away again, weaker this time. Something in his expression was distracted. "That's . . . That's not the point . . ."

"Then what is the point?!"

Ed closed his eyes, wrenching them shut. "Let go."

Winry opened her mouth to yell, then blinked. "What?"

"Let go . . . of my arm . . ." Alphonse noticed the trembling in his hand, the way his breathing started to come in quick gasps. "Let go, please."

Winry released his arm hurriedly and he crumpled to the ground, hugging his real knee to his chest and burying his face in it, hand holding his throat. Another flashback?

Both Al and Roy rushed to him, crouching down on either side. "Fullmetal," Roy murmured.

With a force of will, Alphonse stopped himself from saying anything. Ed could hear him, would know he was there if he needed him, but if Alphonse was going to be leaving soon, it was time that Ed learned to reach out to someone else for comfort. No matter how much it pained Al.

Ed's hand released his throat slowly, then reached, searching for someone.

Again, Alphonse stifled the urge to put his hand in the way. Besides, Roy was quick. He immediately put his sleeve in Ed's reach and his brother latched on.

He took a deep breath as if preparing himself for something painful, his eyes cracking open as he exhaled. "Sorry . . . I'm sorry," he said quietly. He breathed for a minute longer, slowly calming down.

"Panic attack?" Roy asked gently.

Ed nodded. His lip suddenly quirked and a small, humorless laugh forced its way from his throat.

"Ed?" Al asked before he could stop himself.

"I'm sorry, Al . . . all of you. I'm a real idiot, huh?" Again, that strange, disturbing laugh wracked his weak body. "Can't even keep it together to hold a conversation. You're right. Sorry for always being a pain."

"Fullmetal," Roy said with a small smile that wasn't quite a smirk. "If you weren't being a pain, I would think something was seriously wrong."

"Thanks for that," Ed replied, but it wasn't as laced with sarcasm as it might have been otherwise.

Winry kneeled down in front of Ed. Her eyes were swimming in unshed tears and she looked like she was trying very hard to keep them from falling. "Ed, I'm sorry, that was all my—"

Ed shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It was my fault for being an idiot." He sighed. "Al?"

"Yes, Brother?"

His mouth opened, then closed with a grimace. He looked like he'd rather not have to voice his request. "Can . . . It's late, right? Can we just go to bed?"

"But Brother, you need to eat something. Doctor Silas said—"

"Come on, Al, I'll eat twice as much tomorrow," he pleaded, gathering the blanket around him. "I don't think I could keep anything down right now, anyway."

Al scrutinized his pale, drawn face, the fever burning vividly behind a veil of sweat. He didn't look very good . . . Al sighed in defeat. "Okay, Brother, but at least take a shower and cool off."

Alphonse didn't think it possible, but Ed paled further at the suggestion. Alphonse didn't understand why, but showers were terribly stressful for him now. It usually took Al a good twenty minutes to talk him into the tub in the evenings, and he almost always had an episode once the water started running. "A cold cloth will work. Seriously, Al, I took a shower yesterday. Skipping a day won't kill me."

Al made a sighing sound again. "Fine, but you're taking one first thing in the morning."

"Fine, whatever," Ed said dismissively, practically melting with relief.

"Ed," Winry said, getting to her feet. "We really need to run a performance check on your automail to make sure everything is working. We didn't get a chance to right after installation." There was something detached in Winry's voice, like reading a report. Maybe that was the only way she wasn't crying right now.

"Can we do it tomorrow?" Ed asked. He never asked.

So Winry relented. "I guess . . . As long as it's not hurting you, I guess it'll be okay to wait."

"Thanks, Winry. Sorry about earlier." Ed never apologized, either.

"It's okay," she said with a blush.

Al slowly, gently helped Ed to his feet and turned him around, leading him up the stairs at a snail's pace. Alphonse watched the awkward way Ed held his automail at his side. "Your automail doesn't hurt, does it?" he asked as they reached the landing.

Ed shook his head. "Nah, no more than the usual tingling right after connecting. It's just . . . since I can't feel it, I'm used to watching to make sure I'm moving it right and now . . . well, I don't want to break anything."

That would make sense. There was no way Ed would be able to tell where he was moving his arm without his sight to guide him. Alphonse was well acquainted with the need to be very careful and watch where and how he moved so he wouldn't hurt anyone or anything with his cumbersome, unfeeling body. "I'm sure you'll get used to it, though," Al said, forcing some cheer into his voice. "It'll just take some practice with it."

Ed smirked. "Yeah, I guess so. You can help me figure it out."

Alphonse bit back an affirmative response. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, he was leaving at the end of the week. He wouldn't be around to help with much of anything.

He had to tell Ed tonight.

Ed didn't seem to notice his lack of response. They made it all the way to the bedroom, where Alphonse helped him change out of his day clothes and into his sleep pants and shirt, then out of habit, turned off the lights and guided his brother to the bed.

The bed was more of a formality than anything. As soon as the nightmares started, Ed usually ended up on or next to Alphonse on the floor, but he let Alphonse pull the sheets up over him, and Al couldn't help but wonder if he would let Roy do the same for him. Would he let Roy do any of the things he needed help with?

"What's eating you, Al?" Ed asked, jarring Al from his musings.

"What?"

Ed was staring ahead, frowning at the ceiling in the dimness. "You've been awfully quiet. What's up?"

Maybe it was stupid for Al to try to keep anything from his brother. Blind or not, Ed was a lot more observant than he sometimes let on.

Alphonse settled beside the bed, leaning back against the wall so he could watch his brother's face. He hadn't been planning on letting him know until the day before he left, but he made a promise to Roy. And maybe Roy was right. Maybe this would give him more time to help Ed adjust, and maybe he could encourage him to get used to the idea of letting Roy help him out every now and then . . .

It would be painful for them both to tell him either way, but maybe this would be best for Ed, and what was best for Ed would always be Alphonse's first priority.

Ed's frown deepened, the barest traces of uncertainty starting to appear. "Al?"

"I'm still here, Brother," he assured him quietly, much to Ed's obvious relief. He closed his eyes and rolled over to face Al, holding his prosthetic arm across his chest then stilled, as if waiting.

Al wished he could feel the effects of a steadying breath. "Um, well . . . I . . . I guess I don't really know how to tell you . . ." he confessed softly, and even though he knew Ed couldn't see him, he was unable to look him in the eye.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, a sudden wary tension in his voice. Al glanced up to see him frowning deeply. "Since when did we ever have to sugarcoat things with each other? You can tell me anything, Al, you know that."

"It's going to hurt you, Brother," he whispered. "You're not going to like it."

A weak smile tugged at his brother's lips. "I've had worse. Spill."

Al tried again to breathe, only succeeding in making a whooshing sound with no calming sensation to follow. "I've been doing some research, and . . . well, I don't want to get your hopes up, but I may have a lead on a way to get your sight back."

Alphonse may have not wanted Ed's hopes up, but it disturbed him to see Ed's expression turn to something more closed and cautious, as if he didn't have it in him to hope like that anymore. "Well, I knew you weren't always over there reading books about the Philosopher's Stone."

Al would have blushed if he could. "Yeah, um . . . this seems more important at the moment."

Ed tensed, his face twisting into something both horrified and angry. "Al, there is nothing more important than getting your body back," he said fiercely. Al flinched, metal groaning with the movement, and Ed stilled suddenly. The fury slowly melted from his face, leaving something more resigned and maybe apologetic in its wake. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry I haven't really been all that helpful lately, but that doesn't mean you need to stop. This is just . . . this is a setback. If you keep finding the leads, I can focus on working through this and then soon we'll be able to—"

"No, Brother," Al said, cutting him short. He hated it. He hated the way Ed tried to be so independent, to pretend that he could do it himself when he couldn't. Not alone. "You can't just work through blindness."

Ed grimaced, like that statement caused him physical pain. He buried half of his face in his pillow and said nothing.

"You can't get over this. Not without something more. And since human transmutation is out—" Ed cringed. "I think I found something else. It's a healing form of alchemy."

At this, his brother had a restrained sort of interest. "Healing alchemy? Wouldn't that just be human transmutation?"

"No, it's just a sort of alchemy that uses something called chi . . . the problem is that the only place I can go to learn more about it is Xing."

Ed's breathing stopped.

Alphonse watched with increasing worry as Ed clenched the pillow with his real, his automail hand fisting hard enough to groan in protest. Finally he breathed, a stressed, gasping sound.

"Brother, please, calm down," Al pleaded, reaching out his hand to touch Ed's.

His brother's hand released the pillow and clamped around Al's. He was shaking, hard enough to rattle Al's arm. "Al . . . please don't do this," he whispered, wrenching his eyes shut. "Al . . . please don't . . ."

"Brother," Alphonse murmured. "I have to. Whatever it takes to fix this, I have to try."

If anything else, he clung to his arm more desperately. "Al, I can't do this . . . I can't do it without you, Alphonse. If you're not here, Al, I . . . no, Al, I need you. I need you, Alphonse, please . . . please don't."

Al felt something in his soul shatter as a few tears squeezed past his brother's closed eyes. He wanted to cry, too, but no matter how anguished he felt, how miserable he felt for his brother, nothing spilled from his soulfire eyes.

Ed used to be so determined, so driven . . . now everything was an act, a weak front set up to protect Al, but from what, he wasn't sure. Ed's weakness, maybe, but that was silly. Al knew his brother better than anyone, and even now, even at his lowest point, he was the strongest person in the world.

"Brother, please understand," he whispered. "Please. This is for you. If I can do this, you'll have your sight back, then we can work on getting our bodies back again. Just think, this could even be the key to figuring that out, too."

"Take me with you, then," he said, curling his withered body around Al's hand like a child clutching a teddy bear. Al wished he could cry all the more. "I know I can't . . . I can try, Al. I can try to keep it together, just give me a chance!"

Did Ed not see what he was doing to him?! Al's other hand tightened around his knee. "Brother, you know that won't work! You know you're not ready for that, and I can't bear to see you like this anymore! This is torturing you. I'm not going to let it go on any longer, not if I can stop it."

Alphonse saw Ed try to get himself under control. He shook, scrubbing tears from his face with his arm, and tried to breathe. Al watched his chest rise and fall quickly. He almost whispered something a few more times, but the words died before they could even leave his lips and he quit trying altogether.

Finally, he let go of Al's hand and sat up. Al watched as he slid off the bed, pulling his blanket with him as he did and slowly crawled over. Al put out an arm to guide him and he soon curled himself up in Al's lap, the blanket covering him up to his head. Alphonse reached up and grabbed the pillow, tucking it under his brother's head to cushion it from his unforgiving armor, and wrapping his hand around Ed's shoulder.

Soon, he stilled, his breathing evening and his sniffles slowing. Al thought his brother was asleep until he asked in a small voice, "What am I supposed to do without you, Al?"

Al glanced down, staring at the side of Edward's face. He didn't seem to be panicking. Not at all. In fact, he seemed almost relaxed. The only hint that everything was not right was the hand curled around his throat.

"Brother . . ."

Ed sighed softly. "Do you remember that time you went to summer camp, Al?"

Alphonse stared. Summer camp? "You mean when I was six?"

"Yeah." He stared ahead, bleached eyes blank and even more distant than usual, lost in his memories. "You told Mom you wanted to go to summer camp because you were tired of me bossing you around all the time and you wanted to go live with the 'camp people' for a while."

"Yeah, I remember," Alphonse said, feeling his soul smile at the memory. "It was after you took my favorite stuffed cat and told me that I had to grow up."

"You didn't talk to me for almost three days for that. Up until you left."

"Mom and I spent the next week packing. You were so mad at me wouldn't even talk to me."

A soft smile stretched Ed's lips. "I wasn't mad. I was afraid you were leaving for good. I didn't know what to say to you to make you stay."

Alphonse blinked at him. "You thought I would leave for good?"

Even in the dim moonlight, Al could see a flush paint Ed's pale cheek. "Yeah, well, I was seven! I didn't know summer camp only lasted two weeks!"

He thought a moment. "Is that what you're afraid of? That I won't come back?"

Ed tensed in his grip. "Things happen. I know . . . I know not on purpose or anything . . ." Al didn't like the hesitancy there. "But Xing is all the way across the desert, and what if something happens? What if something happens and I won't be there? If you don't come back . . . Al, I won't—"

"Brother," Al murmured. "Trust me. I'm not helpless, you know."

Ed's lip quirked to the side. "I know. You're anything but helpless, Al. It just scares me."

Alphonse bent over and gathered his brother in his arms. Ed yelped in surprise, clinging to Al's arms as he lifted him to rest against his chestplate. "I'll come back, Brother. I promise. I promise you I will come back, and I'll bring anything I can find to help you."

Ed slowly relaxed into the hug. His eyes were watering again as he stared at nothing, but he smiled anyway and wrapped his arms around Alphonse's neck. "I know, Al. I know."

Well, I like brotherly fluff xD Hope you do, too C:

Again, not wholly satisfied with this chapter. It just seems sort of rushed and awkward, but I hope you like it nevertheless. I went back and edited it and rewrote it, like, seven times :'D Now I'm tired of messing with it lol xD

I'm thinking of making Al's little summer camp story into a oneshot . . . I think it has cuteness potential, and after all of this angst, Rain needs a fluff break xD

You guys are amazing. We are one review shy of 400 reviews and I could cry from your amazingness. Thank you so much for all of your support c': You guys are the best. EVER. I'm caught up replying to reviews up to chapter 13, so I'll get on those after I post c:

Thanks again, guys! Hope you have a great week, and I'll see you next chapter :)

God Bless,

-RainFlame