(AN at the end)

Chapter 2: In Which Edward Does What He Wants

When one is used to going at top speed 24/7 with hardly any downtime, one often daydreams about what they would do if they had any time to themselves. Edward, if you asked him, would say that he'd spend most of his time reading. Perhaps alchemy books, perhaps scholars' research journals, maybe even a book on just plain chemistry if he had nothing else.

But, after spending nearly five years constantly on the move, and then spending weeks on end with absolutely nothing to do, Edward found he had almost run out of things to entertain himself with.

He focused hard on his physical therapy, practicing his exercises multiple times a day and even reading up on new ones, if he found the right books. But once he had reached a certain point, everything was just... uninteresting.

After a while, he stopped going to the scheduled physical therapy sessions. He knew more about it than his trainer seemed to, and he knew his body's limits much better. Besides, he had been doing physical therapy for almost half of his life - if he didn't know a thing or two by now, who even was he? The trainer seemed to think it would take him half a year to get to a healthy place - Edward believed he could get there in half that, easy.

Technically, he had been released from enforced bedrest over two weeks ago, so he could go out and walk around if he wanted to, but there was a little something still holding him back:

Al wasn't doing well.

He was still sleeping most days away. The doctors said that he might be trying to catch up from what all he lost, though Ed hoped that Al's body wasn't seriously intending to make up for almost five years of lost sleep.

He was also weak - his body wasn't taking well to the medications or IVs or food they gave him. He was often coughing or wheezing, like his body forgot how to breathe. Sometimes he just flat out passed out in the middle of his sentence. He was a mess, if Edward was being frank, so it was probably best that he sleep as much as he can until his body remembered how to function properly again.

A sleeping Al meant no tittilating conversation, though. So, not only had Edward run out of things to read, but he didn't have anyone to talk to.

Part of him felt guilty; afterall, Al had to sit and wait alone for years while he slept the nights away. If this was really how lonely he had felt...?

So. Nothing to do. He couldn't leave because he didn't want to be gone when Al woke up, but he didn't want to be there when Al was sleeping because he had exhausted every single thing he could think of to do.

The only thing he hadn't quite gotten tired of yet was watching his brother. He honestly didn't think he would ever grow tired of seeing him in flesh and bones again (though currently more bones than flesh). As Al slept, Ed started to commit his face to memory once more. He hoped that his cheeks might fill in soon, and he really hoped that those awful bags under his eyes would disappear, but for the most part it was the same face Edward remembered - though perhaps a more haunted version.

What really got to him, though, were Al's eyes. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Now, Ed could see Al's soul - feel the actual presence of his soul - for years without any of that eye-window shmuck, but he had forgotten just how much expression they could show. When Al was awake, he and Ed would talk on end about anything that came to mind, and Ed realized that he didn't have to look at Al's body language anymore to know what he was feeling. He could see it, plain and simple through those golden eyes.

He could see happiness, mostly. Sheer, utter happiness. Small things would make them light up, even bigger things might make them water. But somewhere, deep down, Edward could see pain in the shadows.

The older boy knew that Al had been through so much - too much - but even now he was trying to brush his problems away like they were nothing and instead focus his own efforts on carrying someone else's. The issue with that was that his problems weren't actually gone - they were still there weighing him down, but Al was trying to carry that burden on his own, and he would stop at nothing to offer to help you carry yours.

And that? That was too much.

Al had always been one to put others before himself, so this honestly shouldn't have been that surprising. But Ed could see that pain now. He hated himself for not seeing it as clearly before, but it shone through brighter than day now, with the help of those soul-windows.

Al was dragging himself through the dirt in order to bring others up.

And it needed to stop.

To be fair, the day had started out simply: Al had woken up after nearly 15 hours of rest. He was slightly disoriented as usual, but overall cheerful and bubbly. He smiled at his nurses while they checked him over and made light small talk with whomever was closest.

Ed watched from the sidelines as he was now accustomed to doing, leaning back against the wall with his arms folded as he, too, smiled on, joining into the conversations whenever Al dragged him in.

As the nurses finished their checks, the boys were left to themselves. Easily, seamlessly, they started to talk.

Al asked what all Ed had been up to since they last spoke. Ed, of course, pretended that he had not in fact been idly sitting in Al's room, waiting for him to wake up. Instead, he declared that he had been walking around, getting some fresh air, reading.

If Al was skeptical, he didn't dwell on the matter. Ed changed the subject easily, asking how he had slept, asking him about his dreams: something he hadn't been able to do for nearly half a decade.

The boy went on to describe some fantastical tale of penguins and umbrellas, though he was slightly disappointed that he couldn't remember more.

Time passed and their conversation drifted smoothly from topic to topic.

Then lunch came.

And went.

An hour passed.

A nurse came in to check on Al's IV like usual (he could eat, but it was hardly anything Ed could call 'food' yet), but she sent a glance at him that held weight.

Al shook her off casually, taking the offered newspaper with a smile, but he had noticed that Ed had seen the exchange, and the room grew tense.

Ed wanted to smirk, but he was hardly in a smirking mood. Al was a terrible liar.

"So, what are your plans for the rest of today?"

Alphonse shrugged, not taking his eyes from the paper. "Dunno. Probably just sit and read." He turned the page carefully, "What about you?"

The older brother shrugged too, leaning back in his chair and sticking his hands into his pockets as he stared warily at his companion. "Dunno."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Don't you have physical therapy at three?"

A small sigh. "No, I'm not going today."

A questioning eyebrow. "Why not?"

Al's eyes shifted up, meeting Ed's hard stare with his own. "Because I'm not."

Edward felt a flare heat up his chest, his fists clenching and unclenching in the pockets of his trousers. "Why? Are you feeling sick?"

The younger brother averted his gaze. "No, I feel fine."

"Are you too tired?"

"No."

"Too sore?"

"No, not really."

"Too hungry?"

"We just ate."

"Too stupid, then."

Alphonse scoffed, his eyes flickering up again and meeting Ed's with a hard glare - one Edward hadn't seen in nearly half a decade. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Edward could feel his teeth grinding together, he could feel his temper bubbling to the surface. "You're not going to get better if you don't go to physical therapy, Alphonse. Your body is struggling enough as it is - you're never going to be able to walk or run or, hell, even function again without working on it."

The teen let out a heavy breath, bringing his hand from his pocket to rub his temples as the beginnings of a headache began to form. "You're smart, Al. You know that. And I know you're not stupid enough to think that this won't be worth it. So," his voice softened as he leaned forward, confusion and earnestness evident on his face, "What's going on? Why don't you want to go?"

Something flickered across the younger boy's features - confliction maybe? Discomfort? Hesitation? He bit his lip gently as he seemed to debate what to say before finally settling on a soft: "Why don't you?"

The room grew quiet, a tenseness stretching between its two occupants and making the air heavy.

"...Huh?"

Alphonse sighed almost defeatedly as he slumped back into his pillows. "Nevermind."

"No, you can't just say something like that without explaining it, Al," Ed snapped. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you, idiot," Alphonse snapped back, his voice cracking slightly under the force of his words.

Edward blinked, taken back for a minute. "Hey, who are you calling an idiot, idiot?"

"Damn it, Ed, I'm being serious! You aren't going to therapy either--don't give me that look, I know your schedule. You haven't gone in the past week and a half, and I know you're not going when I'm asleep: I've asked the nurses and they say you've been off by yourself, pushing yourself past your physical limit like you always do. You're not stupid either, Brother. What are you thinking? You have to take care of yourself so you can get back to Winry and Granny and--"

An eruption of coughs exploded from the slight figure, racking his shoulders and shuddering his whole body as he crumpled forward. Edward was up and by his side in an instant, hovering worriedly as he rubbed soothing circles onto his brother's back.

The coughs soon calmed like the sky after a storm - no longer cloudy or dark, but still grey and murky. The boy laid back once more, left breathless and wheezing on his bed.

"...You okay?"

Alphonse nodded gingerly, his chest heaving with lightly rattling breaths.

Edward looked around the room desperately, searching for something to help. "...Do you need water or anything?"

A shake of the head.

Alphonse was hardly done with his lecture - Edward recognized that look on his face - so he waited patiently, his hand gripping his younger brother's tightly.

"...You need to get better, Ed," Al finally stated after some length, his grip tightening on his brother's hold.

"So do you, Al," Ed laughed wearily. "Besides, you've got a lot more to work on than I do. And remember, I've gone through physical therapy a lot, so I know what I'm doing. Honestly, the therapist here has no idea how to actually--"

"You're not above him, Brother."

Ed startled. "What?"

"You're not above the therapist. Just because you've gone through it before--"

"Hey now--"

"--Doesn't mean you can just completely ignore him! You're hurt and he's a doctor and--"

"--He's a therapist, Al, not a doctor."

"--we are so close to going home...This is what we've been waiting for for years, Ed. Don't you want to get better?"

Ed huffed. "Of course I do, Al. And I am. But I'm doing it at my own pace, without some dude who's only read about physical therapy in a book looming over my shoulder or slowing me down."

"You're going to overexert yourself, Brother--"

"I think I know more about Phyeical Therapy than you do, Al."

He regretted his words the moment they left his tongue. They hit Alphonse like a slap across the face, tearing past his mask and revealing all the pain and exhaustion hidden inside.

True, Edward had gone through many more rounds of physical therapy than Alphonse had, but Al had so much more to recover from than Ed ever did, and he was having his fair share of physical therapy experiences now that he had a physical body. Plus, Ed could never forget just how much Al used to push himself to learn everything he could about how to help his brother while he recovered.

The kid had read every book, he had lesson after lesson from Granny and Winry on how it worked and what to do to help or what to look for. He was always there for Ed, through each and every step of the way. In all honesty, he may not have gone through it as many times as Ed had, but he probably knew way more about physical therapy than Edward ever would.

"...Al, I--"

"It's alright," he stated with a half-hearted smirk, "I know you didn't mean it. All I'm trying to say is that muscle atrophy isn't just something you can rush into being fixed - just like you can't feed a three course meal to a person whose been starving for years."

Ed winced at the unintentional reference, and his reaction did not go unnoticed.

"What I mean is," Alphonse continued softly, his face darkening slightly as he pulled his blanket closer to him in an attempt to hide his wiry-thin frame, "You're going to overdo it, and you'll only end up making yourself worse. If you want to get out of here as fast as possible, you need to slow it down. I know it sounds ironic and backwards, but this isn't getting used to automail, Brother: this is re-growing muscles."

The older teen heaved a sigh, leaning back into his chair as a flicker of recognition crossed his mind.

"...So, you weren't going because I wasn't going?"

Alphonse nodded with a sly smile. "As you said, I'd be an idiot not to go. And so would you."

Laughter bubbled up to the surface, slipping through Ed's throat and turning into a soft chuckle. Of course he did this all for Ed. Why would he expect anything less? "I suppose you're right."

"You don't want to be an idiot, do you?"

"Nah, not particularly."

"Does that mean you'll continue your sessions?"

The younger brother's face was hopeful, his eyes big and pleading.

Edward grinned. God, he would do anything to keep this kid happy, huh?

"Only if you do."

Alphonse's face broke into a cheekish grin of his own. "It's a deal. Though, let's start on that tomorrow."

"...But you still have time to go to yours today."

A slight wince. "Well, yeah, but I uh...I actually am a little too sore from my last session to do much of anything but sit around today."

"So that part you said you weren't sore--"

"Ah, you see: I said that I was 'not really' sore, not that I wasn't sore at all."

"Tricky," Ed sighed, shaking his head slightly as he held up his hands in defeat. "Fine, you win this time. What are you going to do with your free afternoon, then?"

"I was actually thinking I'd like to spend it with you," Al replied. "I'm not really tired yet, and this newspaper is kinda boring. You only have to stay if you want to, though - you've probably got other stuff to do besides sit in a hospital room all day…"

"Not at all," Ed interjected, scootching his chair closer to Al's cot and leaning over to rest his elbows on the mattress. "I literally have nothing better to do. And as it turns out, out of everything I could be doing, there's nothing at all I want to do more than stay here with you."

AN: Hey guys! I already had the majority of this chapter written, and I was excited enough about it that I decided to add the finishing touches and upload it tonight!

That being said, the other chapters probably won't come in such quick succession. I'll try to crank them out as quickly as I can, but it's almost the end of the school year so things are about to get pretty busy.

Again, please let me kniw if there are any Al centric prompts or ideas you would like to read in the future! I still have some ideas I want to flesh out so I'll probably do those first, but please feel free to PM me anything you'd like and I'll try to make it work.

Have a wonderful evening my lovelies, and hopefully I'll be back soon with a new installment :)