It was winter, and ever since the season had turned, Ed had been dreading the question that would come out of Al's nonexistent mouth:

"What would you like for your solstice gift, Brother?"

It finally happened on a particularly cold day - not quite cold enough to snow, but enough to give the drizzle an extra sting when a stray drop hit his face. The damp weather was wreaking havoc on his automail, and Ed sighed as his boot splashed into a puddle with a certain viciousness that only rainy days and bastard colonels could bring out in him.

"This again?" He pulled his hood higher over his face, wincing at the sudden pain in his shoulder port. "I told you I don't need anything."

"You say that every year," Al pointed out. "But you never complain once you actually have the gift."

The custom had started back when they were just kids. Ed was only old enough to remember one or two solstices with Mom, but her warm praise upon seeing his and Al's alchemized presents was one of his fondest memories. They hadn't bothered exchanging gifts after she'd died. If she wasn't there to smile at them, what was the point?

But Al had insisted on taking the tradition back up after they'd set out for the Philosopher's Stone. It was a small thing to look forward to every year, sandwiched between the endless months of dead ends and disappointment - and Truth knew his brother deserved that much. Needed that much.

And Ed, well... he sure as hell didn't deserve it, but he'd drink a gallon of milk before admitting that he needed it, too.

He let out another, heavier sigh. "Yeah, well..." Ed looked away, grumbling, "The best gift would be getting your body back, so..."

"That's surprisingly sweet of you, Brother," giggled the suit of armor. If he'd had a mouth, it would have been lifted into a teasing smile.

Ed flushed. "What do you mean, surprisingly?! Shut up!"

"Alright, alright. But what do you want? Really."

"Uh..." Tapping a gloved finger on his chin, Ed grinned wickedly. "How about we find a way to get that asshole Mustang demoted?"

"Brother!"

"Well, you asked what I wanted!"

Al crossed his arms. Rain droplets pinged off his frame. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Fine!" Ed crossed his own arms to match, pouting. "Then what do you want, Al?"

Al sent him a warning look - don't think I'll forget about your gift, Brother - but he still raised his helmet in thought. A moment passed before he declared, matter-of-factly, "A scarf."

Ed blinked. "A scarf?"

"Yeah..." The armored boy's voice turned bashful. "I know it's a little silly, since I can't feel the cold and all, but I thought it might be nice to have something."

Edward lowered his head. He wasn't quite fast enough to hide how his expression had fallen. After a long moment of silence, the older boy finally looked up, eyes sad.

"Okay." He smiled weakly. "We'll get you a scarf. A nice one, too." The smile became a little stronger, and he elbowed Al in the side. "I think they sell some scarves at the station, don't they? We could grab something on the way to New Optain."

Al's responding voice was bright. "Good idea! When does our train leave again?"

Ed flipped open his pocketwatch, taking a moment to run his thumb over the engraving inside. "Thirty minutes, but you know how these Eastern trains are. We've got an hour." He eyed the thickening sheets of rain with a frown. "We should probably get out of this storm soon, though..."

Suddenly the suit of armor stopped walking, and the absence of his plodding steps was enough to make Ed turn around. "Al?"

The suit of armor was staring across the street, strangely still (in times like these, Ed especially missed seeing Al's face; it was lonely, not knowing what his brother was thinking inside that metal shell). Ed followed his brother's gaze, and his heart sunk.

A family of three was passing by: a mother and her two sons, most likely. Neither one could be older than eight, but that was already older than Ed and Al had been when they'd lost Mom. Each boy clung to one of the woman's hands even as they splashed in puddles and made faces at each other. Then one boy pointed to a toy in a shop window and said something excitedly, causing his mother to stare down with enough fondness to make Ed's heart ache. Even in the biting cold and pouring rain, everything about that expression was warm.

That warmth had been directed at him and Al, once. But that was a long time ago.

"Brother," Al whispered hoarsely.

And it didn't matter how many solstices passed, or how many gifts were given. Nothing could ever replace the only thing either of them had ever really wanted.

"I know," Ed said around the lump in his throat.

Mom's smile wasn't something they could ever have back.

Al flinched slightly, but he didn't move. So neither did Ed. He leaned into Al's armor and silently, they watched the family walk by.

The woman, seeming to sense that she was being watched, looked up and met their stares from across the street. Then she smiled at them - but not the same way she'd looked at her sons. This was tense, nervous. Of course. Naturally a mother would be put off by two suspicious-looking strangers starting at her kids. Ed and Al both looked away guiltily.

"We should..." Al's voice was halting. "We should probably get going. Or else I'll - rust."

The sharp pang of guilt hurt more than Ed's automail ever could. "Yeah. Okay. Wouldn't hurt to be early for that train, right?"

Al nodded, and they were walking again, this time in dead silence. A few minutes passed - and then, without saying a word, Al's rain-soaked gauntlet quietly reached for Ed's hand. He gripped Al's gauntlet right back, metal against metal. He couldn't feel the grip, since it was his prosthetic hand. Only the vaguest sense of pressure let him know that his brother was still at his side. And Al... Al couldn't feel this at all.

They'd lost so much. It felt unfair to lose this, too.

"I'm sorry," Ed said, almost too quiet to hear.

"I'm sorry, too." Rain streaked down Al's helmet in a sick parody of tears. "But we'll make it right, won't we?"

One last fleeting thought of Mom crossed Ed's mind. He pushed it away and squeezed Al's gauntlet, as if holding on harder would let his brother feel it.

"Yeah." Ed closed his eyes and tried to imagine Al's face, just as sad and determined as his own. "We'll make it right."