Everyone: as always, thanks for the reviews! Two chapters in one today, do enjoy! Abstractication, don't feel stupid, I thought it was funny, and you are not the only one to misread that, lol. Camudekyu, yes, things are definitely about to change indeed.

Walking Forward

(I)

"Come Josephine in my flying machine going up, she goes, up, she goes-"

"Ed, shut up!" Alphonse bellowed from outside the bathroom door.

The door flew open and Ed stood there grinning and dripping, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair hanging plastered to his back. "Oh, gee, you're a fly kid, but not me, I'm a sky kid!" he continued, watching with amusement as Al cringed.

"Okay, look, that is a dumb song, I can't believe you listen to that old stuff. And besides," he said, laughing as Ed pushed past him, shaking his hair out as we went and spraying Al with water, "you can't carry a tune to save your life!" he called after him.

Ed just shrugged, taking care to thoroughly dry his metal arm. "I love you too, Alphonse," he said with a sweet smile.

"Think you took long enough in the shower?" he said with mock irritation, pulling the door closed. "I'm the one who has to get to class this morning!"

"Sorry!" came Ed's voice through the door.

He knew he wasn't really going to be late to class, and he took a few extra minutes to stand under the fall of warm water. He was happy, he realized with a start, and grinned up at the falling droplets, squeezing his eyes shut.

He could remember the very day that he met Ed. It was a freezing cold afternoon, the day after a huge snowstorm in the dead of winter. He had decided to go to the Munich University Library for the day, yes, for the books, there was a novel he had been waiting to read but never seemed to be on the shelves, but mostly because the library had heat and his tiny apartment did not. He didn't remember if Ed had been in the library already when he arrived, or if he came in when Al was hunting for his novel, but he recalled clearly how those strange eyes bored into him from across the room.

Unable to find the novel he wanted, he had settled on the floor with one he had already read, leaning his back against the shelves. It was several hours later when he began to feel his muscles cramping, and set the book down for a moment to stretch out. He noticed that there was a free space at the table where the boy who had stared at him was sitting (had he really been staring at him? He seemed engrossed in what he was reading; perhaps Alphonse had imagined it?)

When Al sat down the boy had looked up, surprise clear on his face, but went immediately back to what he had been doing. Al opened his book and tried to read, but he could feel those odd eyes on him, staring. He looked up, but the boy looked away.

At first glance he looked unremarkable (except those eyes, which Al would not have noticed if he hadn't been staring at him). He was young, probably younger than Alphonse and definitely too young to be a student at the University, he decided. He was thin and had blond hair pulled in a ponytail behind his head. That was all Al noticed.

This went on for some time, each boy staring and looking away, alternating. When Al skimmed the titles of the books the boy had piled next to him, his eyes widened. This stranger had the novel he wanted! At the moment he realized this, the blond boy looked up to see him staring at his books. "Al?" he said, very quietly.

He jumped.

"Sorry," the boy muttered, looking down again. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"How did you know my name?" Al asked, and several people turned to look at them. He lowered his voice. "Do I know you?" he whispered. A very disconcerting feeling was beginning to creep over him. Did he know him? This person looked familiar to him suddenly, and his heart told his mind to stop, don't think like that, it can't be him. He felt his jaw drop. "Ed?" he managed.

No. It was not possible, it was ridiculous, what was he thinking? This person could not be his brother, his brother was dead, years since dead and even if he wasn't, even if he had survived (don't do this to yourself, his heart pleaded, you know he's gone) he couldn't be this person, there was a resemblance but they weren't the same.

Not-Ed was studying him, seeming to measure him with those penetrating eyes, questioning him, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to speak.

"That book," he whispered finally. "I've been looking for it for months."

The stranger picked it up, turning it over, and gave a soft laugh. "This one?" He seemed about to say something, but pressed his lips together instead, changing his mind. "Take it," he said instead, offering Al the novel. "I'll read it some other time."

Al's heart was pounding, but why? Why should this boy who was not his brother make him feel this way? "No, I- I'd just like to read it, ah," he stopped, trying to organize his sentence. He was so thrown off, mentally, and couldn't believe a conversation with a stranger about a novel could unsettle him this much. "I can't take it out, I mean, I'm not a student here, but I'm a fast reader, I could just read it and give it back to you when you're ready to leave-"

The stranger nodded once, and motioned for Al to take the book. Al picked it up, setting his other one aside, opened it, and forced himself to concentrate on the words in front of him.

Before long (but it was long, he was nearly halfway through the book) he felt the stranger's hand on his shoulder. He was standing at his side. "I'm leaving now," he said, although he did not move to take the book.

"Ah, here," Al said, holding it out for him, but the boy shook his head.

"I'll check it out for you if you want. Then you can take it home and finish it. Just make sure you return it, okay?"

"No, I couldn't," Al protested, but the boy held up his hand.

"Please," he insisted. "It's no problem for me."

Al looked at his open expression, taking in each feature. The fluttering, unsettled feeling in his gut began to subside. There was a resemblance, but that was all. This boy was not his brother. He tipped his head. "Are you a student?" Al asked, curious.

The boy shook his head. "My father works here," he explained, scooping up his books and heading to the checkout desk. He limped a little, Al noticed, following closely behind him. Once each book had been stamped he handed Al the novel. "Here."

Alphonse looked down at the book he had been handed, then back up at the blond stranger. "Thanks," he said softly.

The stranger smiled warmly. "What's your name?" he asked, pulling his coat closed against the winter chill and pushing open the heavy doors of the building. The wind immediately assaulted them and they stood at the top of the outside steps, Munich's University neighborhood spread out before them.

Al shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from freezing, and followed the boy out of the doorway. "Its Al. Alphonse Heiderich." He removed his hand from his pocket and held it out to shake.

He watched the boy consider his hand for a moment, then shifted his pile of books to one arm and seemingly reluctantly extended his own hand, his expression apologetic. As soon as Al took it in his own he could tell it wasn't flesh. He watched the boy's features cloud over with worry. "Um, sorry, it's-"

"It's okay," Al said quickly, grasping the metal hand gently and shaking.

The stranger relaxed, relieved. "I'm Edward Elric," he introduced himself. "It's nice to meet you."

Alphonse was not sure he would ever see they boy again, after all, Munich was a fairly large city and the University was not a place where he ordinarily spent much of his time, but he did. It was almost as if- but no, he was imagining things. This Edward could not have possibly been following him. They just happened to run into each other often. Perhaps they were just instinctually drawn to the same places at the same time. Edward had just moved to Munich, he learned, when his father accepted a teaching position at the University. He was several years older than Alphonse had initially guessed, which made for an embarrassing conversation and what Al feared was nearly the end of their new found friendship.

Ed turned twenty at the end of the month, and Al took him out to celebrate when he learned that Ed had not made any plans. No one here knows its my birthday, why should they? he had said somewhat cryptically. I'm sure your father knows, Al had protested, but Ed just scowled. I very much doubt that, he had snapped.

Except for that first day they met, Ed never reminded him of his brother. Whenever possible, Al tried not to think of his brother; the hurt was simply too much for him. He and his brother had been inseparable when they were children, and when his brother left to study physics in London Al had been devastated. When his brother had disappeared he believed for the longest time he couldn't possibly be gone, but eventually, after the Great War ended, word had come of his death. Alphonse had never even gotten to say goodbye, and now he was alone.

Alone but for this strange friendship he was forming with this strange boy. He had seen Ed interact in social situations; he was polite enough but neither friendly or outgoing. His friendship seemed reserved solely for Alphonse. And it was his friendship, Al now realized, that had pushed him to where he was now, twenty years old himself and starting his second year at the University. Walking forward, just as Ed had demanded.

(II)

It was the day he had climbed over the barrier and sat in the patch of overgrowth on the bank of the river Isar. When he was little and lived with his mother she used to take him and his brother for picnics by the river that ran through their small town, and he longed to be a little boy again who could take all his troubles to mother and have her kiss them away for him. The dampness of the ground slowly soaked through his clothes, but he hardly noticed; he was miserable and alone. He felt a tear slide down his face, and he made no move to brush it away. It was no use trying not to cry, he had learned; it was best to just let the tears come as they would.

"Al!" called the familiar voice, and he huddled down into himself amidst the tall grasses. He only wanted to be alone right now, couldn't Ed see that? What was he doing all the way out on this side of the city anyway? This was his spot, not Ed's, not anyone else's. He looked up, seeing his friend leaning over the wall of the bridge and peering down at him. "Leave me alone," he said, hiccupping. He blinked, and another tear splashed down on his shirt.

"I've been looking for you," Ed told him from above. "Come back up here," he pleaded.

Al shook his head. "I said I want to be alone," he said to the ground, not raising his eyes. He had no desire to share his misery with someone who wouldn't understand.

Ed surveyed the concrete barriers and slanted concrete bridge supports critically. Since Al would not come up to him, he would climb down to the bank to Alphonse. He climbed up onto the wall using his good leg and swung the prosthetic one over the edge, gripping the bricks firmly as he carefully regained his footing on the other side.

Al looked up, a dull stab of worry piercing through his misery, and called out, "Hey, be careful!" He stood up reluctantly and hurried over to the slanted supports under the bridge Ed was slowly and carefully attempting to scale. "There are safer ways to get down here you know," he said, accusation thick on his voice. He climbed up the bottom part of the concrete and offered a hand to Ed, which he immediately took.

"Thanks," his friend muttered, eyes not moving from his footing until he was securely on the ground.

Alphonse stood in the tall grasses, hands on his hips, glaring at the boy. "Ed, that was really dumb," he said crossly.

Ed just shrugged. "What are you doing down here, anyway?" he asked, concerned.

Al just glared. "I wanted to go somewhere where I could be alone," he said pointedly.

Ed turned to face the dirty, rushing water of the river. "My little brother," he said softly, "always went and sat by the river when he was upset." He gave a small, half-smile. "Of course," he added, "we lived out in the country, so it wasn't such an escapade to get there."

Al crossed his arms. "I told you there was a safer way to get down here," he said flatly. "What do you want that was so important, anyway?"

His friend looked like he was about to say something, opened his mouth, closed it, sighed, and then spoke, still looking out at the river. "I just… wanted to see you, that's all. Today is… well, I was just thinking about a lot of things, and… ah, missing… some people… I wanted to see you," he repeated, turning those gold eyes to face him finally.

Al flopped down in the soggy grass, drawing his knees up to his chest again, and Ed awkwardly followed him, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on his hands. "Well, here I am. You can see me crying and miserable, which is why I wanted to be alone. Happy?"

Ed, who he knew hated to be touched and rarely made a move to touch him, began rubbing his back softly. He was surprised, but it felt soothing and he leaned into it. "If you want to talk about it," Ed said gently, "it might make you feel better."

He sighed. His tears had all but dried up now, but he wiped his eyes anyway. "I miss my mom," he said finally. "I know it sounds stupid-"

"It's not stupid," Ed interrupted, almost harshly, continuing to rub his back. When Al didn't say anything, Ed said softly, "It's never stupid to miss someone you love"

Al dropped his head onto his knees, feeling the tears pricking at his eyes again. "It is stupid," he insisted to the ground, his voice low. "She was so proud of me, her youngest son, the only son she has left, going off to the big city to make something of himself. Just like when my brother went to London."

"Your brother?" Ed echoed.

He sniffled. "Yeah. He died there," he said sadly. "It was during the war, it seemed like everyone was dying. I miss him too. I believed for so long that he was just missing, that he was alive somewhere, we just didn't know how to find him, its hard to remember sometimes that he's never coming back."

He didn't notice his friend's shocked expression.

Al continued to stare at the ground when he said, "He looked a little like you, you know." He was silent for a moment, and then sighed. "I don't want to talk about my brother. There's nothing anyone can do to change the fact that he's dead. I just wanted to move on with my life, to do something, to live for both of us I guess. But what have I made of myself here?" he demanded of himself. "I can barely pay my rent, I never have enough money for food, I cant count how many times the lunch you've bought me has been my only meal-" Ed opened his mouth to respond to that, but Al held up his hand to stop him. "I want to be a scientist, I told my mom. And what am I really? I'm just a-"

"Al," his friend interrupted forcefully. "You are a scientist. You study science, that's what a scientist is," he said firmly.

Al shook his head. "But I don't," he said miserably. "I want to invent something. Ever since I was little I wanted to invent something incredible, that everyone in the world would remember me for. But that's just a dream. All I do is dream, I don't actually study anything, I don't even know where to start!" He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and looked up. "No one will apprentice me, and no one would dream of funding my research because I cant even tell them what it is I want to study!"

"Why don't go to the University?" Ed asked quietly. "You can study lots of things there, and then pick what it is you want to continue with. That's how it works, isn't it?"

He sighed, exasperated. "I don't have any money! How can I possibly go to school?"

"You can work something out," Ed protested.

He shook his head. "I should just go back home," he whispered. "I should go back home and work in my father's store, and carry on the family tradition and all that." He wiped his eyes again. "I'll just have to tell my mother that her son was nothing but a failure in the big city." He dropped his head again, and was silent.

Edward rested a comforting hand on his knee, and waited for him to raise his eyes. "You're not a failure," he told him, his voice sincere. "Sometimes life just knocks you down. That doesn't mean its time to give up just yet. Sometimes you've just got to stand up again, and keep moving forward." He gave his knee a gentle squeeze. "You have your own two legs," he said, and Al looked guiltily down at Edward's feet, one of which he knew was just a prosthetic, "use them to stand up and keep walking forward." His eyes took on a faraway cast, and Al looked at him curiously for a moment. "Don't lose sight of what you want, Al, even if you can't see it clearly yet," he said finally, drawing a comforting arm around his friend and holding him close to his side.

Shortly afterwards he had learned he had been accepted at the University, and at Edward's insistence, he enrolled. Edward was a self-proclaimed chemist, although Alphonse had no idea where or how he had amassed such extensive knowledge, but his brother had studied physics, and that was what he chose as his major. In the course of his studies he became enthralled with the concepts of mechanics and rockets, and his life began to take on a shape once more. He would be the first man to send a rocket into space, and all the world would marvel at the scientific advances that came out of what was now a broken Germany.

It was so much easier to walk forward when he wasn't alone.

His fingers were beginning to shrivel in the water, he realized belatedly, reaching down and turning off the shower, grabbing a towel and opening the door.

"Oh gee, you're a fly kid-" that hideous nonsense was still going on, but he smiled, coming to sit behind Ed on the bed where he sat brushing his hair. He wrapped his arms around his friend, and Ed tensed and immediately ceased the song. "Al?" he said questioningly, twisting around trying to face his friend.

"That's a terrible song, Ed," he mumbled into his back, pressing his face into the other boy's flesh shoulder.

"And that gets me a hug?" Ed asked, plainly confused.

"Yeah."

"Don't you have to go to class?"

"Yeah," Al said again, but didn't move.