Notes: This is a new section for me. ;D Normally you'd find me in the HP section, yes? Ah well. FMA rox my sox. Whoo! XD
Don't read if you don't like Elricest. That's basically all I'd like to say.
All We Need
Alphonse Elric should be ten years old.
He should not be nothing more than a soul encased in a large suit of armor, kneeling in his own home, cradling his older brother's torn and bleeding body, staring at the grisly pile of flesh and bone and organs that should be his mother.
But it is not his mother; it stares with sightless glowing eyes, rasps as it attempts to breathe through a lipless, gaping mouth, gurgles hideously as the exposed organs try to function, and fail. It is a monstrous sight, like that from a horror tale. Except it is no story. It is the embodiment of two brothers' sin. The sin of thinking their dead mother could have the chance to live again.
Al doesn't know how his brother had done it, but Ed had somehow managed to bind his soul to the armor using a seal drawn with Ed's own blood and a shaky hand. Ed had given up the other hand and arm to accomplish this, in addition to the leg he had already lost, and Al knows through this that he is loved. Loved more than Ed loves his own body. A bond was created on that day, a bond stronger than that between any normal brothers.
Al would follow his brother anywhere, face any hardship, sacrifice anything he had to. He would see his brother restored, even if it meant his own body was lost forever.
And so when Ed sits up in bed, still bright-eyed and feverish from his automail surgery, and announces to Al that he will become a State Alchemist, Al can't help but agree.
First it is a matter of becoming accustomed to their new bodies.
It is difficult for Al to adjust to the basic movements of arms and legs that seem far too large, let alone re-learning more complex actions like running or turning quickly or even sparring with Ed. Figuring out the correct amount of pressure to apply is another matter completely, as Al sometimes forgets his own strength. More than once he has reached down to pat his brother on the back, and accidentally sent him sprawling on his face.
But eventually he does become accustomed, and Ed grows used to his automail arm and leg as well. Even though Al can still tell that it pains him, from the expression on his face sometimes when he stretches them out, his brother doesn't complain much. His brother is strong and courageous and determined, and Al worships him more than a younger brother will usually worship his elder.
That worship, combined with love and their newly-forged bond, is what will carry Al forward with Ed when they finally leave their burning home far behind them.
Alphonse Elric should be eleven.
He is sitting on the edge of a bed in the room he shares with his brother, just observing his sibling. Mr. Tucker and Nina have gone to bed, and it would be very quiet except for Edward.
Stripped to his undershirt and boxers, he is spinning around the room and just laughing, finally caught up in the excitement he hadn't felt fully comfortable displaying around everyone else. At least not this time. Al knows that Ed considers the restoration of their bodies to be something private that only the two of them can resolve, and doesn't show as much joy to others as he does to Al when it seems they're another step closer to their goal. Al just sits and watches, content in knowing that he gets to see more of who Ed really is than anyone else.
"...And did you see how I saved that poor guy from his own alchemy?" Ed is saying. He is boastful, yes, but Al thinks he deserves to be for awhile.
"Yes. You were really amazing!"
"Yeah!" Ed spins again, vibrant and glowing, golden braid whipping around with him before he collapses onto his own bed in a fit of giggles. "And did you see this watch?" he asks, holding it out toward Al for what must be the fifth time.
"I saw it. But, big brother... you're a grown-up State Alchemist now, maybe you should settle down a little. I don't think anyone else who made it today is bouncing on their bed..."
"You.. you're right!" Al had been teasing, but Ed sits still and concentrates his best grown-up and serious stare at his little brother. But he is only twelve years old, and this lasts for all of two seconds, until his face splits wide in another grin and he bounds over to stand directly in front of Al.
He does compose himself slightly then, putting his hands on either side of the helmet and looking earnestly where Al's eyes should be. "I did all this for you, too. It's all for you. Soon now... soon you'll have your body back. As soon as we find that Philosopher's Stone..."
And he puts his arms around what should be Al's neck, and Al can't speak, for Ed's love has overwhelmed him again.
Alphonse Elric should be twelve.
It is hot, and Ed is thirsty. Al knows this because he has spent the better part of an hour listening to mumbled complaints on the subject. But there is nothing to be done; it's midsummer and the sun has every right to be boiling down on a couple of travelers heading through wilderness to get to the next town. So the younger brother trudges before the elder, hoping to cast a shadow to provide a little relief. Because Al certainly can't feel the heat rolling in waves across the landscape, or the dry, uncomfortable feeling of a parched throat craving liquid. And Ed is still grumbling, but Al doesn't really mind.
"Look, brother! I think we found a town! ...Not sure we're in the right place, exactly... Weren't there supposed to be a lot of trees?"
"Oh, I don't care if we're lost!" Ed says flippantly. "I need a drink or I'm just gonna die!" Deciding it best not to press the matter for the moment, Al follows a now much more energetic Ed to the nearest store they can find, where he waits outside until Ed returns.
Ed swaggers back down the store steps proudly, as though he has just accomplished some magnificent feat and not merely bought a drink. "Look, Al!" He holds it up, and Al inspects the tin can, the outside already beading up with condensation.
"Ah... lemonade. It's your favorite, brother."
"Yeah!" Ed replies happily. "This will be great." He cracks the tab open, humming appreciatively, and with a cheeky grin at Al, tips it back almost as far as he can.
Al finds himself simply staring at the sight of his brother drinking, at the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. He is so caught up in this that all of a sudden he thinks he ought to scold Ed for being so greedy and not thinking that his little brother might want a drink too. He even lifts a hand halfway, then lets it fall back stiffly as he comes to his senses.
He can't drink. Has no need to drink. How could he have possibly forgotten that?
Meanwhile Ed has finally finished, and he exhales loudly in satisfaction. "That was great," he laughs. Then he gives the can a shake, and has the grace to look abashed. "Oops... I drank an awful lot. If you want..." Ed's words trail away as he stares up at the massive form of his brother's hollow body, eyes huge in his suddenly pale face.
Ed had forgotten too.
Unable to bear the guilty look that next flashes in his brother's eyes, Al turns away and starts to walk further into town. "Come on, brother... We'd better find out where we are!" he says with a cheerfulness he doesn't quite feel.
It is sometimes the same with eating, Al realizes the next morning when Ed is having breakfast at the inn where they had lodged the night before. Al feels he could watch Ed eat for a long time, which Ed probably would be willing to do if he could afford it. Al needs to eat as much as he needs to drink, so it is almost as though he is experiencing the pleasure of eating through his brother's pleasure -- bad table manners aside.
Ed chews enthusiastically, asks for the salt, gesticulates wildly with his fork while having a conversation, spills jam on the tablecloth, chokes, needs Al to thump him on the back and remind him he can't fit that much into his mouth all at once... It is almost a daily ritual, one that makes Al happy simply by watching Ed performing it. And that is all Al really asks for right now.
Alphonse Elric should be thirteen.
It is a dark moonless night, full of strange sounds and ominous shapes that twist and morph into other shapes in the way it only seems to appear to those who are afraid of the dark.
Al still isn't very comfortable with the dark.
Ed is determined to keep going despite the lateness of the hour, and Al will follow, although he doesn't really want to keep going. Not when there are tree branches that look like huge twisted arms reaching out to grab him, and spooky creatures that could be swooping down to--
"Hey! Al, can't you watch where you're going?" A disgruntled Ed is glaring up at him, having been bumped into none too gently. "That's like the third time you've ran into me! What's the matter with you?"
"Ah... I... it's... nothing... I'm just... scared..." Al's armor is rattling a little, though he's trying to stop it. Ed stares up at him for a moment, incredulous.
"But Al... what do you have to be afraid of? You're six feet tall and made of metal!"
The comment, and Ed's short sharp laugh following it, makes Al feel a bit angry. "You know I was always afraid of the dark!" he snaps, already turning away from his brother.
"Hey... hey, Alphonse." Now Ed's voice is very gentle and soothing, not at all mocking, and in spite of himself Al turns back.
"What?"
"I know," Ed says quietly. He takes one of Al's large hands in his own and squeezes. "But what do you have to be afraid of? You've got your big brother here with you. And I'll take care of you."
"Oh... brother..."
"Because that's what big brothers do," he adds with a smile. "C'mon."
Al nods, and they continue on together, Ed not letting go of Al's hand.
Hours pass, and Ed still doesn't want to stop. His grip has slackened to the point where he would have let go if Al hadn't maintained his own grip. His brother falters and stumbles, swears, and tries to carry on again only to repeat the process minutes later.
"Brother..." Al says softly. "You're tired. We can stop now and let you rest..."
"No! We need to get there before morning. I can sleep then."
"But brother..."
"I'm fine! Ah... shit! You stupid rock!"
Al makes a sound that is as close as he can get to a sigh. "Don't be stubborn, brother. I could carry you if you insist we keep going."
"No! You're not carrying me! Do you know how ridiculous that would look?" Ed's voice is loud and angry, in direct contrast to Al's reply, as quiet as it had been before.
"I can carry you. I don't need to sleep. You can't always be strong, you know."
Opening his mouth for another enraged reply, Ed just wilts, shaking his head. Al is struck suddenly by how small and frail his older brother looks; although he knows Ed hasn't grown much for his age, the effect is heightened by Al's large size. And yet Ed is always trying to be strong, to shoulder as much of the blame as he possibly can, to continue despite near-impossible odds. How he manages to be so small and yet so strong would have been beyond Al's comprehension, except that it was his brother, who he had always known could do anything.
"All right," Ed says, startling Al out of his reverie. "You always were the voice of reason between us." And he holds out his arms as though he is a small child asking to be picked up. Al laughs gently.
"Brother... no, here. You can get on my back." He crouches down, and after a moment's hesitation Ed clambers on. With both hands firmly clasped under his brother, Al stands and continues on again. For awhile it is very quiet, and he thinks Ed might already be asleep. But then:
"Al... I remember when you were afraid of the dark. Mom would try to tell you that you'd be all right, but when she left our room you'd get scared again. You used to get in my bed... and you'd just shake all over. But if I just hugged you to me... you felt safe again. We fell asleep like that so many times. Do you remember?"
"Yes. I was so grateful I had you then... and I still am."
It is nearly silent again but for the steady clank of Al's metal feet against the ground. That sound nearly drowns out Ed's next words, spoken as softly as they are.
"You're all I have, Al... you know that?"
"I know..."
"You know what else? You're all I need anyway."
"Brother... it's the same for me. Exactly the same."
Alphonse Elric should be fifteen.
It was awkward, the first time he had come upon Ed satisfying a need much more personal than food or sleep. Despite the fact that it had been accidental, Ed has flushed red, yelled, and ordered Al from their latest inn room. And Al, who had at that time not really understood what was happening, stayed out for several hours, unsure when his brother would be done with whatever it was he had been doing.
Now it is over a year since that time, and Al is not quite as innocent as he once was. He knows that Ed needs some time to himself now and then, and makes sure he gets it. However, casual hints and suggestions that Ed find female companionship are quickly and harshly dismissed. But Al wants Ed to be happy, wants him to be physically satisfied. He deserves as much, in Al's thinking. He definitely doesn't want his brother to be frustrated in more ways than are possibly preventable.
"Brother?" Al only looks inside the room cautiously, just in case. Another town passed through, another room at the local inn. This one is small and sparsely decorated; Ed is not as quick to spend his money as before. There is a desk and chair of matching scuffed wood, a lamp that isn't quite bright enough to read by, and a sagging bed. Ed is sitting on the chair, unmoving. Al can tell from the tense hunch of his shoulders, the grim set of his mouth into a small line, that something is wrong.
"Brother?" Al tries again, entering fully and shutting the door. A grunt that can either be taken as acknowledgement or annoyance is the only reply. Lately Ed has been quieter, more thoughtful. The hard lines of worry and care that had occasionally appeared on his face seem now permanently etched around his eyes. But he is still the same brother Al knows and loves, and will always love, no matter how many hardships came to subdue him. And lately there had been many.
"Is something the matter?" Al walks over to the tense figure, leans down to see him better. "You can tell me..." Al's downward gaze is drawn to the way Ed is clenching and unclenching his hands on his legs, then drifts almost naturally to the way the fabric is straining at the crotch of his pants.
"Oh..." He's embarrassed, naturally, of course he is. But he hates not having his older brother happy when maybe it can be helped. "Brother.. you know... maybe if you had a girlfriend--"
"I don't want a girlfriend!"
Ed's explosion takes Al aback, but he tries again. "But brother--"
"How many times do we have to go through this? I don't want a stupid girl!"
"I'm sorry, it's just that--" Al's words are forgotten when Ed launches himself out of the chair, flings his arms around the neck of Al's still-bent form, and presses his lips to the armored helmet.
The world freezes, and Al finds he can't move.
"Al," Ed says, somewhere in the distance. Al isn't quite listening. Instead he is wondering how soft Ed's flesh arm, and how harsh the metal arm, would feel against hisreal neck. Whether Ed's lips are warm and moist, or cool and dry. If Ed's breath still smells faintly of beef and vegetable stew from dinner.
"Al," Ed calls again, and it sounds like a plea. The armored body slowly straightens, and Ed's arms slip away. Now he latches them tightly around Al's waist, and when Al looks into his eyes he can see the need there.
"Al..." Softly, in adoration. Like a profession of love.
He knows his body is moving just slightly, can see that Ed is moving his hips against the metal. Al thinks to tell his brother to stop, to ask if it hurts, to tell him it's wrong. But if it hurt, he wouldn't be moaning in pleasure. If it was really wrong, he would tell Ed to stop. Because, in spite of his own unfeeling body, Al wants it too. Anything, anything to make his brother happy would make him happy too.
"Al... Al..." It's a whimper now as Ed moves faster, loses control. Then it's a hoarse cry-- "Al!"--as his body convulses, as he shudders and finally stills. He waits a few moments before looking up at Al, and Al can see the thin sheen of sweat on his brother's skin, hear his quickened breathing. There is fulfillment shining in his eyes, but also apology and shame.
It is then that Al understands the truth. Why his brother adamantly refuses the idea of a girlfriend. Ed could show this to no one else. His brother's need, his passion, his love. They were reserved for Al and Al alone. Only because they are siblings does Ed even show the slightest remorse.
Soon Ed leans his face in against the metal chest plate, and all Al can see is the top of his golden head.
"Al..." he says once more, and it's like a prayer for forgiveness.
"No, brother." Al reaches down, places a hand on each small shoulder. "No. It's all right."
Alphonse Elric should be sixteen.
And his brother shouldn't be dead. Shouldn't be lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, eyes formerly so bright with life now glazed over and staring blankly.
No, Al tells himself, his brother iisn't/i dead. There is still time. Just as before, he would do anything to restore his brother's body, even if it meant losing his own.
"It's all for you."
"You're all I have. You're all I need."
Al brings his hands together, and the last word in his mind as he passes through consciousness to nothingness is "Brother..."
Alphonse Elric should be sixteen, but once again he has the body of a ten year old.
He can't remember those times he spent with his brother. What he learned about his brother during six years of hope and loss, pain and love.
He can't remember, but he plans on finding his brother and re-learning those memories.
the end