A tremor shook the forest. Nothing like the earth-shattering quake fourteen years ago, which had harvested half the kingdom's souls—a minor disturbance.

Concentrate. Concentrate.

Was Alphonse involved? Had he been killed?

No, still alive. Soaking wet. Pulling a limp body ashore.

Also in the water, struggling for life, was…

Two potential allies.

.

Envy hated water. Hated swimming. Bathing. Even drinking water was a nasty, tasteless experience they endured merely to survive.

Being washed away by a river? Not in their worst nightmares.

At least the current had slowed from 'trying to pull them apart' to 'gently tugging their arms out of socket.'

When they finally landed, they gladly would've walked away without looking for Ling. But the squinty bastard found them first.

At least he was someone to talk to. "As soon as I get my hands on that Fullmetal pipsqueak…I'm gonna strangle him. No, I'm gonna run him through. I'll kill him!"

Ling's mind was on a completely different track. "Who was that with him? The other boy. He kind of looked like Edward."

"Who cares?" Envy snarled. "Seeing double, huh? How about you keep those eyes open and on the prize he stole from us. Again."

"Prize?" That was a new voice. "Surely you don't mean this worthless thing." Someone tall and imposing and vaguely familiar appeared from behind a tree.

"You…you're…" Ling gaped like an idiot. "King…"

"King?" The stranger laughed a deep, hollow-sounding chuckle. "No, I'm certainly not the king."

Ling was right, though. "You look like him," Envy snarled, clenching their fists.

"And you look like a rabid dog." The insult was spoken without emotion, without hesitation. "Let's not quibble. This was the prize you spoke of, was it not?"

The stranger held up a tiny, blood-red stone.

Ling looked like a dying fish, mouthing soundlessly as if gasping for air. "How did you get that? Where?"

"Never mind that. You can take it. It's yours." He tossed the Stone toward them. It plunked soundlessly on the ground.

"Worthless," Envy scoffed. They bent to pick it up, trying not to appear too eager. "Do you have any idea what this is, old man?"

"A Philosopher's Stone. I'm very familiar. But this one…" he nodded toward the prize in Envy's hand. "…is nearly done. On its last leg of power."

Envy was instantly glad they'd been the one to pick it up. Ling had a vested interest in preserving the power of the Stone—saving it for a certain purpose. Envy, though, could sell it to the highest bidder, never mentioning its low power, although there was no reason to believe the old man—

"I can make you another, though."

The bearded stranger touched his forehead, which opened up before their eyes. Out popped an identical red stone, which plopped into his pale hand. "This one is brimming with souls. Its power would seem endless, especially to you mortals."

Ling and Envy exchanged stunned glances. Envy was sure their own expression looked as dumb as Ling's.

The old man had made a Philosopher's Stone appear out of his skin. What was he? Certainly not a man.

"What's the catch?" There had to be one. Envy had been a thief long enough to know that nothing good came for free.

"Oh, nothing too difficult. My son has run off with that Fullmetal friend of yours—"

"Not a friend," Envy snarled.

"—and I need him returned home safely. Bring me the boy, and the Stone is yours."

Honestly, that wasn't too bad. Envy locked eyes with Ling, who shrugged, a note of intrigue on his face.

Envy nodded. "As long as I get revenge on that pipsqueak." Their fist clenched.

The stranger's lips turned up in a creepy semblance of a smile. "I believe that can be arranged."

.

Ed came to slowly. He groaned even before opening his eyes. His body ached all over—especially his left arm. Stars of pain bounced from his wrist to his shoulder at the slightest twitch.

He finally peeled his eyes open—and yelped with surprise.

A face hovered just over his own, blinking worriedly. It was remarkably similar to his own; for a moment, Ed thought he was staring into some kind of mirror. The bangs, the golden eyes, the upturned nose sprinkled with freckles…

Alphonse. Al. Watching Ed come around. Worry and stress were etched into his sweet face.

Ed grinned lazily at him, about to quip, Miss me that much? He wanted to make Al smile again.

Then water dripped in his face. He flinched, becoming more aware of his damp clothes, his wet hair.

It all came back to him.

The tunnels. The canyon. The dam breaking, the cave flooding. And Al—

He shot up, adrenaline and excitement rushing through him.

"You…you can do it too!"

Al sat back on his heels, looking a little chagrined. "Yeah."

Ed's mind raced. He'd never met another alchemist who could do what he did.

He stared in wonder at Al, amazed and confused and…amazed.

Al had saved his life. With the power Ed had thought was unique to him.

"You saved us. You…"

The sun was setting behind Al, creating a halo of light around him—the boy who had saved Ed.

Al flushed and looked away, biting his lip. To Ed, there had never been a more enchanting expression.

His fingers fidgeted in his lap. "That's…not all I can do."

Ed couldn't stop staring. "What…"

Al took his left arm, which flared with pain again. It had to be fractured, if not fully broken.

"Ow."

Al breathed out, preparing himself. "Don't freak out, okay?"

"O…kay."

As Ed watched warily, Al passed his hand over Ed's arm. Electric light flashed from his fingers as if he were doing alchemy—but he hadn't even clapped his hands. And this light was red, not blue.

Al ran his hand over Ed's ribs, up to his face, then back down to his leg.

It was only then that Ed noticed the bleeding scrape on his right leg was gone. So was the pain in his arm, and his chest. And—he lifted his hand to be sure—no gash on his forehead.

Whole again. We're whole again.

Ed's heart pounded faster and faster until he was sure Al could hear it. A scream built up in his throat, ready to burst from his mouth—but then he remembered Al's plea to not freak out.

He managed to stifle the scream just as Al winced—what came out instead was a terribly high-pitched, childish squeak.

"You…you healed me."

"Yes."

"That…was amazing." Maybe it was the near-magical alchemy, but Al now radiated a faint glow—or he seemed to, anyway. "You're amazing. How did you…" He trailed off, mouthing soundlessly.

Al blushed and looked away again. "I…"

"Al." Ed put his newly healed hand on Al's shoulder. "You just did something incredible. No circle. You didn't even clap. And you healed me. No alchemist I've ever met could heal wounds like that. How?"

Al's eyes were alight with emotions Ed couldn't quite read. Something like…fear? Apprehension? He wasn't sure.

"You can trust me."

Al inhaled shakily. His chin quivered. "Okay. Help me set up camp for the night, then I'll tell you. It's getting late."

Ed cast a glance at the sky, a shade of ever deepening pink-orange. They only had one day to make it to the festival now.

"Deal."

.

Twenty minutes later, Ed sat by a crackling fire under tree cover. They'd moved away from the riverbank, and by the silhouette of the mountains to the east, he could actually gauge how close they were to the city. They'd arrive with plenty of time to spare.

Now, though, Al was ready to explain his ability. He perched uncomfortably on a mossy log. Ed sat beside him, though with enough space between them to keep Al comfortable.

Al seemed nervous anyway, clutching his knees close. Selim nudged against his thigh in what Ed guessed was his version of sympathetic support.

Finally, Al found his voice. "Do you know what happens when you do forbidden alchemy?" He barely looked at Ed.

"Sort of. Not really." Ed had heard the words "forbidden" and "taboo" before, but had never pressed for specifics.

"You're taken away. To another plane of existence. And you see something called the portal of truth."

A few sentences in, and Ed's mind was already spinning. "How do you know that?"

Alphonse didn't hesitate. "It happened to me."

He didn't beat around the bush, that was for sure.

He wasn't done, either. "The earthquake they were talking about? All of Greed's friends? I caused that."

It was so baldly stated, so blunt. Ed felt his mouth drop open. "H…how?"

Selim condensed his formless cloud of darkness into the shape of a small creature and climbed onto Al's leg.

"Father was an alchemist. He did experiments." Al's hand formed a fist on his knee." I was too young. I wasn't supposed to interfere. But…" His voice hardened into self-castigation. "All those people who dropped dead…Ed, I'm the one who killed them."

He drew his shoulders in tight, as though expecting to be struck for his whispered confession.

Ed felt his head shaking, already in denial. "No. That's impossible." Al couldn't kill anyone. He could keep a secret, that was true. And he could give a mean wallop with a frying pan.

But murder? That just wasn't Al.

"You know what a Philosopher's Stone is made of, right? Human souls. If you have a Stone, you can transmute without a circle. Without clapping."

He leaned in close to Ed and whispered. "There are souls inside me."

All Ed could do was stare.

The red light from earlier—when Al healed his wounds—the alchemy hadn't come from an array, or his clapping. It had come from a Stone.

Al was…a Philosopher's Stone.

He had souls inside him. He contained multitudes. And he felt responsible for their demise.

"They're inside you," Ed heard himself say. His own voice sounded very far away. "That doesn't mean you killed them."

Al shifted on his log, uneasy. "Maybe not. But every time I use alchemy like that—without clapping—more souls drain away. Someday they'll all be gone from me. If I didn't kill them then, I'm killing them slowly now."

He laughed, a quiet, thoughtful sound. "It's funny—they've been a part of me for as long as I can remember. It feels like they know me, and they look out for me. Sometimes I think I hear them, whispering to me. Encouraging me. Giving me advice. They don't blame me for killing them."

"You didn't," Ed insisted. "If you were so little, how could you kill them?"

He didn't know Al very well—in fact, this escapade had proved just how little he knew about the kid—but he knew Al wasn't a murderer.

"Father knew no one would understand. They'd call me a sinner. A murderer. And other people would want me for my power. So he took me away from everyone. He brought me to the tower to keep me safe. He made the armor to dull my power, so no one can sense me. That's why I never…"

He trailed off once more, unwilling to complete his tale—but Ed knew the conclusion.

"You never left…the tower."

"Yeah," Al said. Quiet. Resigned. He stared at the fire and was silent.

Ed had no response. It was worse, so much worse, than he had imagined. More than simply being stuck in that armor—Alphonse had never seen the world at all.

"Unbelievable," he muttered. Al's world had been limited to the walls of his tower and the view from his window. Surely any parent could see how damaging it was.

No power was worth that.

This father of Al's was…a piece of work. "And you're going to go back?"

"Yes. No! I don't know." Al sighed. "It's complicated."

"Your father wants you to be safe, I get it. But that's overkill. You have to live your life—you don't owe it to him to stay there just because it's what he thinks is best."

Al's head was already shaking. "No, you don't understand. He…"

"What?"

"I was little. I barely remember. But it's forbidden for a reason."

Al took a deep, trembling breath before continuing.

"When you're taken to the portal of truth, you don't just get to come back. Some kind of payment has to be made. My body was trapped there."

Payment, Ed thought. Like…an arm? Or a leg?

"I would have been trapped there forever. But Father…he gave up a part of himself to bring me back from the Gate. He can never do alchemy again. All to save me."

Ed nodded in understanding. "You feel indebted to him."

Al bit his lip, miserably conflicted. "Yes."

"But…he's your father. You don't owe him anything."

"He gave more of himself than a parent ever should. I do owe him. I have to keep myself safe." He squared his shoulders determinedly. "Even if other people hate me, he knows I'm a blessing."

"Hey." Ed grabbed Al's shoulder a little too roughly. "Nobody hates you, stupid. You were little. Too little to even remember, like you said. It wasn't your fault. Anyone would be lucky to know you—you are a blessing."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he…well, he couldn't say he regretted them exactly, because they had the desired effect: Al perked up.

"Did you just say I was a blessing?" His eyes were alight with a mischievous sparkle.

"Ye—no. No, I didn't." Ed's cheeks warmed. He resisted the urge to cover them with his hands.

He hadn't meant to come on so intensely. Al had looked so sad, so self-deprecating…

Al laughed. "That's really sweet! Edward, you're such a romantic." His own cheeks were tinged with pink.

"Shut up!"

Al had such a nice laugh, though. He could listen to that tinkling, mirthful giggle all day.

Something Al had said earlier clicked into place.

"Wait—seriously, though, that's how you can do alchemy without a circle?"

"That's what Father says."

Huh. Ed could think about what that meant for him later. "So when you saw me doing alchemy like that, you thought…"

"Something like that must have happened to you, too."

"You thought I was a…" Ed flashed back to Al's stuttering confession in the tunnels. I'm not…good. "A sinner too, huh?"

"I—well—yeah." He peeked up apprehensively at Ed through long golden lashes.

Ed raised his hands and stuck two fingers behind his head, roughly approximating horns, and gave Al his best devil-grin.

Al giggled, somewhat reluctantly, but some of the tightness in his jaw eased. "You're not. You're not like me."

"I'm no blessing." Ed basked in the small bubble of laughter he elicited from Al.

"How can you do it, though? What happened?"

Ed hesitated. He did not talk about himself, as a rule. His reputation spoke for him; everything people needed to know about him could be summed up under the Fullmetal umbrella.

But Al. He leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hands. His eyes shone earnestly, curiously.

Al had been honest with him. And Ed…Ed wanted Al to know him.

"I don't…know, really. I wish I did. I've just always been like this."

"Nobody ever told you?"

It felt like a dam was opening up. The words spilled through a small crack, then flowed faster and faster until he couldn't stop them, even if he tried. "I grew up on the streets. No parents. No family. Not even memories of them—I was too young. All I know is I was left on the street without an arm and leg to stand on."

"You never had a home?"

"A lot of kids were abandoned after the earthquake. Whatever bastard left me there must not have been able to feed me anymore."

"So…" Al's hand hovered over his right arm, not daring to touch the exposed, precious automail. "How did you get these?"

Ed wouldn't have minded if he had. "I was luckier than most. An automail mechanic found me, took me in. Made me these things." He flexed his arm and stretched out his leg. "I think I reminded the old lady of her granddaughter. She was about my age, and she lost her parents in the earthquake—it could've been her out there on the streets."

"That was nice of her."

Ed winced. They were nice. And he'd repaid them badly. "I stayed with them for a while—on and off over the years. But I left eventually. It just didn't feel…right."

"Did you steal from them?"

"No! I mean—just food. But I didn't know alchemy yet."

"How'd you learn?"

"I discovered I could do it by accident. Just—touching my hands together made things happen. I thought there was something wrong with me."

"There is," Al interjected, stifling a grin.

"Shuttup. Anyway, a butcher's wife saw what I could do and took me in after I tried to rob her store. She taught me alchemy. Taught me how to be strong. But…"

Al winced sympathetically. "But?"

"I ran away from there, too. I mean…I cared about her. She was a good teacher. But it didn't feel right."

"Yeah."

"I think she died. A few years ago. She was sick." He exhaled mournfully, lowering his head to hide the regret plainly patterned on his expression. Ed had never been able to shake the thought that he'd somehow caused Teacher's death.

A small, warm hand settled on his shoulder. The touch was light, but reassuring all the same. "I'm sorry. You've spent your whole life running away."

Why he was letting Al comfort him, Ed wasn't sure. Al had just confessed to having murdered thousands of people in an alchemy accident. Ed's inability to find a home seemed trite and paltry by comparison.

"I don't know why." He let frustration seep into his voice. "They were good people, and I just walked away!"

"You had the courage to leave. That's more than I can say."

"That's different. Nobody ever tried to keep me prisoner." Ed sighed and shrugged. "Maybe I'm cursed. Maybe wherever I go, people will eventually get tired of me, or I'll wreck things and leave." He laughed to hide his bitterness.

Al's hand slid down his shoulder to rest on his forearm. "That's not true. You're not cursed. I don't think I'd get tired of you."

His touch sent ripples of shivery sensations up Ed's arm. His stomach curled in on itself as if bashfully shying away.

"You've only known me for one day," he managed.

"It feels like a lot longer." Dammit, that earnest face. "You're annoying, but you're a good person." A smile grew at the corner of Al's mouth. "And very, very sweet. You're a blessing."

Mischievous little shit.

"Ever been punched with a metal hand? I'm about to show you what it feels like."

Al didn't even flinch. "Sure you are."

They laughed together quietly.

Ed's insides squeezed together like an accordion. Anyone else would have been frightened, at least momentarily, by his bluff. Ling would've eyed his arm with apprehension. Envy would have immediately prepared to fight. He knew several little kids who would've burst into tears at the threat. But Al immediately saw through him. Saw his bravado as the show it was, and accepted him anyway.

"I don't know what feels right either," Al admitted. "I mean, all I remember is the tower. I don't remember before. It's all I know, but it still doesn't make me happy. It's not…"

"Home," Ed finished for him. As he spoke, Al said the same word.

His eyes went wide, lips parting in surprise. Ed gave him a gentle smile, which he returned after just a moment's hesitation.

"Well." Ed shrugged. "You have your whole life to figure it out. What feels right."

This felt right. He'd never say it aloud, but he already felt more at ease with Alphonse than he had with anyone else.

"You too. Maybe instead of running away, you've always been running toward something."

"Like what?"

Al's eyes dropped back to his lap. It was darker now, so maybe Ed was imagining the rosy tinge to his cheeks. "I don't know. Something…something wonderful. You'll know someday."

Ed's face grew warm. Al's loosely tied hair formed a golden halo around his head. His lashes flashed and sparked as he blinked shyly up at Ed, eyes shining molten gold.

Ed's hand moved without thought. Reaching for Al's soft, delicate fingers. The magical hands that had healed Ed with barely a touch. The hands that made Ed feel more calm, more at ease, more right than he ever had before.

His heartbeat thudded in his ears, reverberating through his chest, his limbs, his fingers, so strong he was sure Al could hear it. Ed flinched and pulled his hand back.

Coward, scoffed the voice in his head.

"I—" His tongue wouldn't cooperate. Too heavy and too floppy all at once—whatever the case, he couldn't make it make the words.

He jumped from the log suddenly, too suddenly. Al started, his gaze shooting up to follow Ed.

"I'm, uh—" Ed jerked a thumb toward the forest behind them. "I'm gonna go…find some more firewood. For the fire. So it doesn't…die."

He backed away awkwardly, mentally punching himself with every step.

.

Al was surprised he wasn't floating. His happiness was like a buoy, making him feel giggly and weightless.

He had shared his secret for the first time, and the world hadn't ended.

In fact, with Ed's complete acceptance, the world was better now. Less sharp, less cutting. More…glowy.

He'd been almost sure, too, when Ed had looked at him, when their eyes had met, that they were both thinking the same thing.

"Selim," he whispered, even his hushed tone trembling with excitement. "I think…I don't know. I can't be sure. But…"

Selim blinked at him, shadows distorting in the low firelight to form a semblance of a toothy grin.

Then a voice cut in. "Alphonse."

Al's rosy bubble shattered. He shot to his feet.

He'd know that voice anywhere. And at the moment, it sent cold dread trickling down his neck like someone had dropped an ice shard in his shirt.

"Father!"

Selim vanished into the hollow log.

Father emerged from the gloom of the night, robes pearly white against the darkness. His expression, though blank and serene as ever, was tight around his eyes. The angles of his face seemed sharper than usual. More shadowed. His eyes gleamed in the firelight.

He clasped his hands in front of him and surveyed the campsite coolly. "This is a far cry from where I left you."

Al's pulse pounded. He'd been caught. Caught. What would Father do? How would he be punished?

"How—" he nearly choked. "How did you find me?"

He wasn't coming any closer. That was a blessing, Al supposed. Father rarely touched him, not without the armor between them. And then—he wouldn't do it here.

"You are my son. I always know where to find you. Even when you've betrayed everything I taught you." He flicked his eyebrows upward, taking in Al's slender form, not a piece of armor in sight.

Al's shoulders hunched in on themselves. Father always made his disappointment clear, that was for sure. Already the guilt was creeping back.

"I'm sorry, Father. But you have to understand—I'm fine. I'm not fading. No one's hated me, or tried to take me. I've made friends, and I've had fun—"

"You don't know what you've done," Father broke in smoothly. He motioned with his head, holding one arm out in invitation. "We're going home, Alphonse. Come. Now."

"Father, please." Al couldn't leave. Not when he was so close. And what would Ed think if he disappeared? "Not yet. I…I met someone. Someone like me. He—" Al ducked his head as his cheeks flushed thinking about Edward. "He's wonderful."

Ed's teasing grin flashed before his eyes. You think I'm wonderful? "I can't leave him."

"Who?" Father tilted his head toward the forest where Ed had disappeared. "The alchemist thief? Wanted by the crown? Alphonse." Derision and disappointment dripped from his words. "He's exactly the type of person I warned you about. Deceitful. Greedy. He'll turn on you in an instant."

"No." Al's head shook. "No. He wouldn't. He's different."

"How would you know? You just met him. I've met hundreds just like him. Once you give him his prize, he'll take it and run."

One hand reached into the pocket of his robe, and he pulled out a glowing red sphere.

The Stone.

Al gaped. Father knew. He knew everything. How had he known?

"How did you—?" Father had taken the Stone. He'd taken the Stone out of the tower.

"Stolen by your so-called friend, who only thinks of himself and material gain."

"That's—he's not greedy!" His plans were crumbling, the bargain with Ed all but lost, but the one thing Al couldn't stand was Father insulting Ed's honor. "He stole that stone to protect people."

"A lie to gain your trust," Father countered, smooth and dismissive. "You think you can trust him? You think you can trust anyone, Alphonse?" He scoffed. "You think you know what is best for you? Better than I?"

Al flinched. He couldn't remember the last time Father's voice had been so loud. "Father—"

"I saved you! I restored your body using my power, and I have spent my life protecting you ever since. And you have the audacity to be ungrateful?" Father spat the last word. "To throw it all away for a boy who wouldn't save you if you were bleeding out in the street? Who do you think you are, a spoiled little prince?"

"He's—my friend—"

"He doesn't know the truth about you. What you've done. What you are. He thinks you're innocent and pure."

He did. He did know. Al had told him.

Of course, Father couldn't know that. "He can do it, too. Clap—he knows what it's like—"

Father's voice was cold and venomous. "I wasn't talking about alchemy."

Oh.

The realization hit Al like a slap. His lip trembled.

"If that boy knew the truth about you, he would leave in an instant, never mind his treasure." Father's lip curled. "Self-centered boy. No one would love you. You are not the sun the world revolves around."

Al was silent, fighting back tears. He had no argument, no defense against Father's words.

It was everything he'd been avoiding today, everything Ed had helped him forget. He was selfish. A spoiled child who only thought of himself, who thought nothing of the man who gave everything to keep him safe.

A flurry of movement broke through his guilty daze. Something took Al's hand, and then his skin was screaming.

Father had thrust the Stone into his hand and closed limp fingers around it. "There. Give this to your thief. You'll see very soon what kind of person he is. You'll see I'm right."

"I will," Al shot back defiantly. His fingers curled around the Stone as he tried to swallow the doubt rising in his stomach like bile.

Father surveyed him, mouth twisted into a sneer. "You think he feels anything for you? Look at you. A gullible, naive child who melts at the first pretty smile? He's probably laughing at you right now."

"No," Al rasped. It was hard to ignore the voices from the Stone, recognizing more lost souls inside Al. "He's not. He wouldn't."

"Do you think you're falling in love? Idiot boy. You don't know what love is. After all I've done to show you."

Al's eyes pricked at the corners. As if the words were stabbing into him. Little needles, poking holes in his carefully sewn composure.

Father turned away. His large form radiated fury.

"If you insist on continuing with your pointless journey, very well. If—when—your guide proves a disappointment…well, I did warn you."

Then he was gone, swallowed by the night.

Al stood frozen, rooted to the ground. If not for the Stone sending spikes of terror through his hand, he might have imagined the whole thing.

Father knew. Father knew. He knew Al had disobeyed, had run away without his armor, had dealt with a thief who specialized in alchemy.

There would be a steep price to pay once he returned, Al knew.

If he returned.

He couldn't deny part of him had considered the alternative—never going back home. In the back of his mind, he'd toyed with the idea of asking Ed if he could stay with him.

He'd really thought Ed cared about him.

Was this the wishful, naive thinking of a child? Was Al so desperate he would see love anywhere he looked?

Twigs crackling underfoot alerted Al of Ed's return. He quickly wrapped the Stone in a spare piece of cloth to muffle its screams and stuffed it into his pocket.

By the time Ed emerged from the woods, Al was seated on the log again, like he'd never moved.

"Hey."

Al didn't respond. Just that single word, a simple, casual greeting, had sent flutters through his stomach.

Was he really so stupid?

"You okay?" Ed pressed, quieter, more tentative this time.

"Yeah," Al forced himself to say. "Just…thinking."

"Me too—about earlier. When I woke up after, well, almost drowning, you looked pretty shocked. You didn't steal a kiss while I was out, did you?"

That stupid, stupid sense of humor. Al could have slapped himself for how easily he wanted to laugh. To fall back into that comfortable rhythm of before, of camaraderie and trust.

Ed raised his eyebrows. Waiting for a response.

"No! I would never." Al tried not to think of how he had counted Ed's freckles. Watched every unconscious flutter of his golden eyelashes. Let Ed's head rest on his lap after hauling his limp body up the riverbank.

"Good." Ed flashed him a grin. "If I kiss someone, I'd like to know it's happening."

That smile. Its energy was contagious, washing over Al and compelling him to smile back. He did so, though Ed's forehead crinkled.

"You sure you're okay?"

There must've been something off about his expression. Al looked down quickly. "I think I'm tired. Even we Philosopher's Stones need to sleep."

Ed chuckled.

Al glowed at the ease of making him laugh. He wanted to do it all the time.

"Hey." A touch as light as a breath ghosted across Al's shoulder. "You know I…I'm not going to tell anyone about this, right? Your secret's safe with me."

Al peeked up. Ed's eyes were open, earnest. His lips mashed together in a rueful, gentle smile.

Lies, Father's voice echoed in his memory.

No.

Al let the resolve build in him. Father hadn't been here to hear Ed. See for himself. This wasn't a cold-hearted, lying thief. He wouldn't do that to Al.

"Thanks."

Would he?

"Just don't…don't expect me to save the day all the time. I know I was able to help before, but I'm not always so useful."

"Wait." Ed dropped onto the log beside him again. "You think that's why I…?" He tsked reproachfully. "I don't like you 'cause you're useful. Or special."

"Oh."

"No, you idiot. I like you 'cause you…" He squirmed, shoulders drawing together. "You smile at everything you see. You laugh at yourself. And at me. You get excited about everything. You're not afraid to tell me the truth. You're real. I like you because you're you."

"…oh." Al couldn't think of anything else to say.

Ed fixed his gaze on Al's collar. "But your face…" He poked blindly at Al's ponytail. "Your face is stupid. So it's a mixed bag."

Al was so astonished he could hardly laugh at what was clearly a joke. "Thanks. I guess." He poked back at Ed's braid, tugging it softly.

Ed clapped his shoulder gently, awkwardly. "So, sleep?"

"Yeah." Al moved to slide off the log, searching for a soft patch of grass close to the fire.

"You're not cold, are you? Here, take my coat. We'll share it."

A warm body slid close to Al, draping something red and heavy over his arms and shoulders.

Ed was lying next to him, far away from the fire, with half his coat covering Al instead of him.

Al let himself be convinced again.

.

The first thing Al noticed when he woke the next morning was their closeness. He and Ed had moved toward each other in the night. Al was curled into Ed's chest, while Ed, still snoring softly, had let one arm fall messy over Al's shoulders.

The second thing he noticed was the ring of spear-wielding soldiers surrounding them.