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Chapter eight

Al felt like he was wading through darkness. Everything around him was both too loud or not loud enough. He was drowning and the surroundings were drowning him. It was too bright, yet not bright enough. He was dizzy, yet he walked straight.

Roy had his arm around him as they walked back to the hotel. Al really just wanted to sink to his knees and pass out from the pain that was filling his chest. Then he could just be carried back. Roy was strong enough after all. Because it hurt so much. Everything hurt. How could it not with what had happened today? They had just discussed funeral arrangements after talking to the pathologist.

About Ed.

He was getting a funeral, and Führer Grumman was even planning on bumping him up to Colonel. His big brother was getting buried. He was getting buried because he was d – Al couldn't even get himself to think about it.

Al felt weak. He was weak and thirsty, but he didn't want to stop. He couldn't stop. Why did it have to hurt so much?

Because it's Brother.

Al fell forwards, his legs didn't want to carry him anymore at the thought. Roy caught him and lifted him up. Al didn't even care that people were staring. He just sobbed into Roy's chest, clinging to his shirt.

"How can he just be gone like that? He's Brother! He's always been there! Even when he was missing, he was there! How can he not be here anymore?!"

Al felt Roy's lips press against the top of his head, and he just buried himself further into the embrace, hoping that it would remove some of the pain that he felt. Wet drops landed in his hair and Al knew that Roy was crying again. Soon he was being carried behind a dumpster in a nearby alley, where Roy slid down against the wall and just sat there hugging him as he sat on his lap. Al hugged him back.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this! It was supposed to be alright now! Now that I have my body back ... Roy! Teacher doesn't even know yet! I have to phone her! I have to tell her that Brother's d-d –" Al dug his face into the now soaked through shirt. It didn't help that it was raining either. He was getting cold but it didn't matter because nothing mattered now that Ed was gone.

"I want him back! I need him, Roy! What am I supposed to do without him?" Al felt like he was being twisted apart by the pain.

"I want him back too, Al. But we can't. I'm so sorry, Alphonse, but he really is gone."

"We were supposed to be happy, the three of us! He was so happy about his life now! I was! Things were so great! Better than great! They were perfect! We had each other and our real bodies and a Dad …" Al suddenly stopped talking. Roy had frozen as he stroked his back. Al hadn't meant to call him that, not yet.

"You see me as your father?" Roy sounded shocked, although it was clear in his voice that he was still crying silently.

"Yes, in a way," Al said silently, thoroughly afraid that he had just ruined everything between them.

In answer, the strong arms just hugged him tighter and Al let himself sob over Ed and the fact that he should have been here now.

"Curtis Butcher Shop, this is Sig," a deep voice said.

Al felt his stomach twist painfully. "H-hello, Sig. It's Al. Could I talk to Teacher?"

"Is everything all right, Alphonse?" Sig sounded worried.

"N-no. That's why I need to talk to her."

"I'll get her for you. Take care, Al."

"Y-you too."

Al waited for about thirty seconds that were filled with the concerned receptionist handing him a few Kleenex. Roy had already explained what the phone call was about and Dennis, according to the name tag, had immediately assumed a sombre look and given his condolences, as well as assure him that he could use the phone as long as he needed to.

"Alphonse? What's wrong?" Teacher's voice came from the phone.

"H-hello, Teacher. I-it's about Ed." Al barely managed to make any sound as he said the name. He hadn't told anyone else about his death yet.

"What about him? Is he hurt?" Teacher sounded worried, and because she was worried, also a bit angry.

"H-he's d-d-d –" Al wasn't able to finish. It hurt too much. He broke into sobs. He couldn't say it. He couldn't even think it.

Roy seemed to guess that it was too much for Al and just drew him in for a hug while gently taking the phone from him. Al just threw his arms around him and let the grief consume him.

"Hello, Mrs. Curtis, this is Roy Mustang. – I'm sorry, but he is. – We were calling you to tell you that the funeral is five days from now. It's being held at the Central East Cemetery at twelve o'clock. - He's staying with me at the military hotel. – Yes, I'm looking after him at the moment. – As long as he wants me to. – Yes, Mrs. Curtis. – We'll see you in a few days. – Goodbye."

Al heard Roy hang up the phone and then the hold around his back tightened.

"I can't even say it, Roy. It hurts too much."

"Come on, Al, let's get back to the room."

Al didn't even know how he got upstairs, but he did, and soon he was crying his heart out on Roy's lap. Al just sunk into the embrace. He would take whatever source of comfort he could get right now, and Roy was better than most. Al knew that he really was too big to sit it anyone's lap, but as his head rested against Roy's warm cheek, he didn't care. He had never felt so small in his life as he did now. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this! I can't take it! How can he just be gone?!"

"Al, I know it's hard. I know it so well, but it is how it is." Roy's voice was heavy with barely repressed tears.

"But he's Brother! He was always going to be here! I can't just lose him like that! I need him, Roy!"

"I know, I know."

Al had never been in so much pain in his life. It felt like every bone in his body had been broken and his chest was being crushed by an anvil.

He felt Roy's lips against his forehead and he began sobbing even more.

Ed woke to the smell of sizzling bacon. He had been having nightmares about Al crying so much that he got himself into accidents. He really just wanted to find him and Mustang and give them a big hug.

A plate pf eggs, bacon and toast was placed on the top of his duvet and Ed sat up, holding the plate while pulling the duvet up to cover his chest. Ed was thoroughly annoyed that his tank top was still drying after having the most thorough wash it had ever been subjected to. He really wasn't used to sleeping in only his boxers, it kind of made him feel like he was going to have his automail attached, which explained the constant nightmares he'd been suffering through tonight.

Ed still ate with gusto however. Despite being someone who pretended to be a real slob, Greg was actually an excellent cook. The man was looking slightly stricken at the scars from the automail surgery. That was another drawback with being bare-chested these days. At least the automail hid most of the scarring, but now that he had his arm back, if really looked quite grotesque in a way. It was also hard to explain.

"That's from the automail, isn't it?"

"Yup."

"How did you get your arm back?"

"Alchemy."

"How did you lose your alchemy?"

"Alchemy."

"Uh-huh? Well, how are the eggs?"

"Great."

"Good. By the way, kid, you're in almost every paper in the country."

"I am?"

"Yeah, you were confirmed dead yesterday after all."

"You have one of the papers here?"

"You really sure you wanna look? It's not exactly a fun read."

"Don't care. I wanna see what they say about me."

"Your choice, Ed, but don't say I didn't warn you." Greg threw him a newspaper.

Ed picked it up as he put his plate on the table. He was on the first page of Eastern Times. They had used a picture of Ed from when he'd been trying to draw out Scar back in Central last year. It was the one where he was smiling broadly, standing on top of a light post with Al waving fans in the background. That had been a lot of fun and of course a big joke. Apparently it had made an impression however. The headline was written in large, thick letters.

"THE HERO OF THE PEOPLE IS DEAD."

Ed opened the article that was on pages five through seven.

"Such a great kid,"

A sad receptionist said at Eastern Headquarters. "I've seen that boy grow up since he started working here. A few times a month, that little kid would throw the front doors open and march upstairs to Brigadier General (then Colonel) Mustang's office. He would always give me a little wave and smile, no matter how bad his temper was sometimes. Not many soldiers would march in, blood dripping from their head, soaked to the skin with rain and still look up with a smile as they greeted me. It really showed that Edward had a heart of gold."

Promoted to Colonel for dying in the line of duty, Edward Elric, age sixteen, was confirmed dead yesterday. The military is left in mourning that their youngest ever officer was killed sometime this Monday. The cause of death has still not been released.

Colonel Elric has revolutionised the military ever since he joined up at age twelve four years ago, and has become one of the most celebrated State Alchemists as a result. He quickly proved himself to be both a highly skilled alchemist as well as a martial artist, resulting in him being featured in many famous cases.

Joined by his brother, Alphonse (15), Colonel Elric has over the last four years also helped numerous people all over the country, earning him the nickname "The Hero of the People". Not afraid to expose corruption, theft and other criminal activities, whether it be with high-ranking officials or small-town farmers, Colonel Elric proved himself to have a strong sense of justice as well as a no-killing policy that earned him both respect and scorn.

"He saved our town," a local innkeeper from Youswell said. "He exposed what that dirty thief was up to and gave the deed back to the town. We're prospering now instead of living in poverty because of him."

Many other such accounts can be found nationwide, showing how Colonel Elric proved himself not to be the dog of the military that State Alchemists are often believed to be.

Ed put down the paper. "It goes on like this all the way?"

"Pretty much. The staff ends up offering their condolences to your brother and your friends. You should be prepared, though, they wrote up the time and place of the funeral too, so there will probably be a lot of people there."

Ed found the paragraph in question and looked up at Greg. "Why don't I get buried in Resembool?"

Greg laughed. "Ed, you can't expect Führer Grumman to travel all the way to Resembool. It's for security reasons. Besides, people would be outraged if they were unable to pay their respect. You're just lucky they didn't bury you in Central. I guess the General would have had to pull some strings to make that happen."

"Oh. So you think there will be a lot of people there?"

"Of course there will! You're probably the most popular officer they've got! You might even pass the Führer if someone were to set up a popularity poll."

"Oh." Ed searched for something to say. "So I'm a Colonel now? That seems a little extreme."

Ed didn't really know what to think after reading the first third of the article. But he felt like going to his funeral. He knew it would be hard, but he would like to see the people he was actually staying dead for. It would help to keep him going. And he missed them. He missed Al, he missed the General, his team, Winry, Granny, Teacher, Sig, hell, he even missed Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong's bone-breaking hugs.

And in a way, by seeing his funeral, he could say goodbye to those people.

Ed pulled his knees up to his chest under the duvet and put his chin on them with a sad sigh.

"Hey, Ed, are you okay?" Greg asked.

"What do you think?" Ed said, fighting furiously against the tear building in his left eye.