Al watched his brother worriedly from his place sitting against the wall. Ever since Granny had called saying Winry was gone, Ed had been frantic. He had rushed out earlier this afternoon, muttering something in passing about getting help, and had returned with a curious mix of anger and smugness. Watching him now, Al only felt helpless and sad.

Having Winry vanish was like a punch in the stomach - Al still remembered the sensation from those hellish encounters on the island. But her disappearance was somewhat removed, something that had happened all the way over at Rush Valley. It wasn't immediately grasped: it could be put out of his mind to a certain extent when it all got too much to bear.

His brother's pacing and expression could not be ignored with similar ease. Something had to be done. Sitting here uselessly as his brother went crazy with worry was more than Al could take.

"Brother," he said at last, his voice sounding small, "please try to sleep. It's past midnight - you've not sat down for hours. Please -"

Ed cut him off sharply. "Al. Winry's gone. I can't just - sit? sleep? I just can't." But he had stopped himself in his lap of the room and stood there, staring at the floor furiously.

"You can't do anything now, Brother. You won't help her by not sleeping," Al said gently. He knew his brother, and understood that simple reasoning was only so effective when he was like this. What else could he do, though? He had to try.

Snorting, Ed shook his head angrily. But to his brother's suprise he folded down into a sitting position next to him anyway, sliding down the wall with something like a growl.

They sat like that for a while, shoulder to shoulder, Al looking down at his brother with silent worry while Ed frowned down at his hands. Neither made a move to break the silence, each wrapped up in his own thoughts, until Ed took in a shuddering breath and whispered, "It's my fault."

"What?" The last thing Al wanted was his brother to heap the blame upon himself. That bred bad things, especially when undirected and unresolved - at least with their mother, Ed had the Philosopher's Stone to fixate on, to bring the hope of forgiveness.

"I said," the blond alchemist snapped, looking up at Al, "it's my fault. If Wrath took her - and he did - then it's because I did something." His hands clenched in his lap.

If his younger brother had been able to do so, he would have scowled. "But you haven't done anything -"

"Don't you think I know that?" Al was frightened at the look that twisted his brother's face. Ed was breathing raggedly, and his hands had come apart only to tense into claws, the metal of his automail horrifying in the artificial light of the overhead fixture. "Al, I have gone over the whole past fucking month in my head more times than I can count, and I can't remember one thing I've done wrong. I was careless, Al, and I can't remember how or where, and Winry's gone for it."

Ed dropped his head into his hands, a sob ripping from his throat. Al put his hand hesitantly on his brother's shaking shoulder, knowing with a sense of despair that there was nothing he could do to convince his brother that it wasn't his fault.

The two brothers sat there late into the night, Ed's helpless, begrudged sobs ripping at Al, who could do nothing but be there. When the older boy finally did fall asleep, his tears spent for the moment, his brother gently picked him up and put him into one of the beds.

Al settled back against the wall then, watching Ed's troubled sleep for the remainder of the long night.

--

AN: Thank you to Yellow Mask, who is wonderful. :)

This was an odd chapter. I've never written from Al's POV, but I wanted to show this scene, and I didn't want it to be from Ed's perspective. I like how it came out overall, but there are some parts that could possibly have flowed better. Ah well, no matter - I do like it, after all.

Critique on my writing from Al's perspective - or on anything else in my writing, for that matter - is eternally welcome.