A/N: It struck me while writing the last addition that there is a connection within Fullmetal Alchemist that often goes unnoticed. I know a few other authors have picked up on it as well. This is my interpretation of it. Thanks to everyone that read/reviewed...hope you're enjoying the story so far!

Don't own it, never will. The mantra of this site.

What They'll Never Say

The Elric brothers were an island unto themselves. Whenever they were back from a mission, and wandering around base, one hardly ever ventured out without the other. They were a unit. Blood tied them together, obviously, but oddly enough, so did metal. The harder parts of them were a constant reminder of what they'd lost, and what they were fighting so hard to recover. The love between them was so plain, so stark and expressed by everything that they did.

They bickered, as brothers often do. Stray animals that Al didn't have the heart to leave alone, Ed's occasional regression into the teenager he really was, nothing more than fodder for the friendly arguments most siblings indulged in. But when they fought, and fought for real, everyone felt the aftershocks.

One afternoon, a small revelation on Ed's part escalated to a shouting match in the middle of Mustang's office. The Colonel's subordinates squirmed in supreme discomfort, Mustang hovered in his doorway with folded arms and a scowl, and Hawkeye watched with quiet observation. Harsh words were bandied back and forth, all though the majority of them came from Ed, who was much more likely to strike first and feel sorry later. Al didn't have it in him to hurt anyone, not really. And especially not the one he cared for the most.

"Why don't you get off my case, Al?" Ed finally shouted, face flushed and bristling with rage. "I don't need someone looking over my shoulder all the time, trying to tell me what to do! I had a mother, remember?"

Instantly, the line was crossed, and everybody knew it, even Ed. The color drained from his face, and his eyes widened as he realized just what he'd said in the heat of his anger. Al recoiled, as if Ed had struck him, and made a soft sobbing sound inside his armor. The tension in the room skyrocketed, because it suddenly came from all occupants. Watching the Elrics fight was unsettling somehow, and they all wanted to help, to repair what was so obviously wrong. Even Mustang made a sort of helpless, fluttering movement that he swiftly aborted.

In the end they could only stay where they were, uncertain and irrationally saddened.

Al took a shuddering breath, one that he didn't need.

"Fine," he said, and his voice was devastating in its softness. "I won't bother you any more, Brother. I'll leave you alone."

Al always moved with a certain stiffness; that was the byproduct of having a body made of metal. But the way he walked from the room was more than his typical rigidness. It was the walk a soldier might have after getting injured on the battle field; the walk of someone in serious pain.

Ed stood completely still. All the rage was gone from his body; his arms hung limply at his sides. His face was ghost white, his golden eyes were twice their normal size. Watching Al walk away had set off a kind of buzzing panic in the back of his mind, and it was hard to think around it.

"Al," he whispered.

Al limped down the hallway with no real destination in mind. His gigantic arms were crossed over his stomach plate, as if he'd been stabbed there and his hands were the only thing keep his nonexistent organs in. A face circled in his mind, a face he wanted desperately to see again, a face that Ed's words had drilled into his brain like an ice pick.

Eventually he found an empty storage room, and settled himself inside it. He drew his knees up to his chest and laid his head on his folded arms. His armor rattled with every tearing breath he took. He wanted, wanted so badly, to cry. But metal didn't shed any tears.

The door opened, and was quietly closed again.

"Go away, Brother," Al whispered into his knees. "I'm leaving you alone, like you said."

"Alphonse."

Al started at the unexpected voice. He lifted his head, and Hawkeye was there, standing over him. Her sherry eyes were soft. Her eyes were almost always kind, even when she was acting tough. It was one of the things Al liked about her.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I…don't know," Al said. "It was so stupid. Ed went for a walk last night. He does that, because sometimes he needs to clear his head." He rubbed his chin against his knees. "He ran into Scar, and they fought. But he didn't tell me, not until this afternoon. He never tells me." Al's voice hitched. "Because I'm a burden. I weigh him down."

He buried his face again. There was a long moment of silence, and then a soft hand touched Al's shoulder. When he looked back up, Hawkeye was kneeling in front of him.

"You're smarter than that, Alphonse," she said simply. "You know that's not true."

"But why else would he keep things from me? Having me with him is an inconvenience. He said so himself."

"People like Ed, they say things. Things they don't always mean." Hawkeye smiled a little. "I know."

If Al's eyes could have widened, they would have. Of course she knew. She understood because it was the same for her. There was someone, someone she cared about as unconditionally as Al cared for Ed. There had always been a kind of connection between Al and Hawkeye, something that shimmered on the air between them whenever they saw each other. But Al had never understood it, or what it was, until now.

It was recognition.

"They think they're the strong ones. And they are, in their own way. They hurt the ones they are closest to, because they think that they need to protect us. But deep down, they know just how much they depend on us. They'll never say it, of course. But on some level they do understand. We protect them from themselves, so that they can continue to protect others."

Al listened, completely still and silent.

"Our job isn't always an easy one, Alphonse," Hawkeye continued quietly. "They'll hurt us more often than not, even if it is accidental. They'll try to drive us away when we get too close, close enough to see their weaknesses. But we can't let them. They need us, Alphonse. We live our lives for them, and so without us, they will fall apart."

Still smiling that gentle smile, Hawkeye stepped back and held out a hand. Al took it and used it to climb to his feet. The two looked at each other for a moment, in perfect understanding.

Then came the sound of pounding feet, and the door was thrown open.

"Al!" Ed cried.

Hawkeye stepped back as the boy came barreling into the room like a small tornado. His face was completely white, and when he reached out to give Al a sock on the arm, his hand was shaking.

"You idiot! Why'd you go running off like that? There are just as many people after you as there are after me, you know! How am I supposed to protect you if you're not with me?"

Al could have called it fair play. He could have said it was equivalent exchange, his brother's worry for his own. But instead he bowed his head.

"I'm sorry, Brother," he said. "You're right. I shouldn't have run off." He brought his hand to his arm, where Ed's trembling fist had touched him. "I promise, I won't leave you again."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hawkeye nod, and smile.