.Thirty One.

"The theorems weren't the problem, Al. It wasn't the math. It was us."

Alphonse can tell Edward is trying his hardest not to yell in agony. He must be enduring it stoically as to not cause his younger brother further suffering.

Then again, there's no physical suffering that can make Al flinch in the slightest. If he were a regular human his heart would be pounding his chest, and he'd probably be crying into his hands for what his brother is going through. Al can't even say he 'can feel his brother's pain' like most people would. In fact, he won't be able to feel pleasure nor pain any more. It's something he can only remember vaguely now.

"Ed, it's almost over," Pinako says as calmly as she can from within the room.

Al buries his metal head in-between his knees. It won't be over fast enough, he bets.

Ed has forbidden his brother from being in the room while his auto-mail surgery is taking place. Perhaps he wishes to protect his brother from witnessing the suffering, or maybe he's afraid Al will try to stop him. This doesn't mean he can stop Al from being close as he possibly can by staying right outside the door.

There's an anguished yell from inside the room that rips away at the only thing he has left, his soul.

Brother . . . I should have stopped us, I'm sorry.

.Thirty Two.

"I'm the one who has to fix things, and get your body back."

It's a good thing that Al isn't in here, Edward reflects as he gasps for air. It's being stolen away whenever he's pounded by a swell of suffering. I don't think I can keep quiet for much longer.

Ed doesn't pretend he's tough enough to take it. He's unable to imagine someone capable to take this suffering in silence. All he's trying to do is make sure that Al (of whom he's sure is waiting outside the door) doesn't hear him.

It's impossible though when a wave of pain crawls up his new arm. Connecting the nerves is one of the most dreadful things Ed has had to go through. Sacrificing his right arm, or loosing his left leg, is a dip in a warm pool when compared to this. This is diving straight into a boiling cauldron with no way out.

What he has allowed his Winry to hold his hand. It's something to squeeze onto. Something to assure him that there is something beyond this agony. Sometimes he's afraid he'll break her fingers but she doesn't say a word against it. Whenever he dares to open his eyes he sees a smile on his best friend's face, but it's only for show. It doesn't reach her eyes.

But if this is the price he has to pay for bring back . . . that thing he'll endure it. That thing that was not their mother. It was . . . an abomination. Nothing like their precious, loving mother.

This is for Al, he reminds himself as he grits his teeth. I can't fail again. I won't fail him. I-I can't lose him, I just can't.

Childhood must come to an end at some point. For Ed and Al, it's stolen much too soon.

.Thirty Three.

There's only one thing Edward has always been afraid of. Even when he was a toddler, he always ran away from these hideous malformed things. They're the colorless cousins of butterflies. They're the opposite of what's beautiful. (This is all in Ed's point of view, of course, because many would probably disagree with him)

Butterflies flutter about, orange, yellow, and black mixing together to make a pleasant insect. They bother no one and are gentle. Of course this is not what Edward is afraid of.

It's the moth that causes him to dart across the hill towards the house today. His yells of, "It's Moth-zilla! Moth-zilla!"

". . . Brother?" Eight year old Alphonse says warily.

Edward stops at the porch of his home to gather air into his lungs. He goes on to say, "It was as big as my fists, Al. My fists!" For emphasis he waves his clenched hands in front of Al's face for poof.

"Let me guess," Al says dully. "A moth?"

"Moth-zilla," he corrects him.

"Adding 'zilla' to something doesn't make it scarier or bad, brother."

"Oh shutup."

Patience wearing, Al hisses, ". . . It's behind you."

"Ahhh!"

Alphonse watches with a snicker as Edward runs into the house from his invisible nemesis. Al sometimes swears to see these moths over his brother's shoulder just to make him disappear from the proximity in terror just for a laugh. And who can blame him? You would too if your sibling had a silly, irrational fear.

.Thirty Four.

"Brother, we have to help it," insists Al with angered tones.

"There's four of them and two of us," Ed snaps back. "What do you want us to do? I'm not magic."

The youngest Elric, age seven, bites on his lip as he observes the animal cruelty in front of him. Four boys have strung a rabbit by it's back leg from a tree branch and is poking at it with their fingers. One boy is flailing about a large tree limb which Al suspects he's going to use to kill the defenseless animal.

Cowards. All of 'em! Al can't help being furious. He's been an avid animal lover all of his life and can't imagine tormenting an animal in such a way. He imagines doing the same to those boys and seeing how they like it.

"Don't jump into it, Al! You'll get hurt. Atleast let me help," Edward hisses in his brother's ear. He looks around for some weapons - some thick sticks or heavy stones - when his eyes settle on the pile of bikes the other kids abandoned.

A wicked plan forms in his head and he can't help but smile.

"Al, come on. Grab a stick and draw a large transmutation circle in the dirt."

"Why? They're gonna-"

"Just do it. I have an idea."

As Al dutifully does what his brother orders, Edward moves along the bushes towards the bikes. He grabs two of them and starts to drag them back. He constantly looks over his shoulder to make sure the fiends are distracted while their personal property is stolen. He and Al pile the two bikes into the center of the transmutation circle. Then Ed gets the other two bikes and they repeat the process.

"What are we going to make?" asks Al. This time his conscience stays silent.

Edward whispers what he wants to transmute and his little brother doesn't hold back his smile.

"Put everything into it," Edward advises as he takes his place across from his brother.

The Elrics' put their hands down on the circle. A bright, glowing light smothers the bikes. This successfully gains the troublemaker's attention but they do nothing expect yell obscenities their way. Perhaps they're fearful of the unknown, stuck where they stand, not wanting to venture near the bright light. It doesn't take five seconds for the bikes to mold themselves into their desired form.

In a mockery of these boys' crimes, their treasured bikes are replaced with a large, metal rabbit. It has fangs that droop past its chin and its lips are brought back into a vicious snarl.

"You little idiots! What did you do!" screams the boy with the tree limb. He throws it at them but misses by a foot.

"It's too late for your bikes," shouts Al. Sweat is pouring off of his forehead but he doesn't let his fatigue show. "Now leave the rabbit alone you jerks or we'll transmute your faces!"

"The damn brats are crazy!"

"What the hell did they do?!"

Edward laughs as they run away in fright. "Nice threat, Al," he chuckles.

Alphonse unties the rabbit from the rope and holds it in his arms briefly. He hugs it and then lets it hop away.

"I wonder if Mom'll like the statue or say we're grounded," wonders Ed aloud.

Al smiles widely at their creation. "She'll like it after we tell her it's a Rabbit of Justice."

.Thirty Five.

"Poor Den," Al mumbles. "How'd he loose his leg?"

"A fight with another dog," Winry says as she scratches Den behind his ears. The six month old puppy leans into the affectionate touch and barks. "Gramma fixed him with auto-mail."

Edward looks down at the metallic arm and grimaces. "Musta' hurt a lot."

"It does but it's better than having no arm at all, I guess," Winry says with a shrug. "Den was crying the hold time. I felt so bad but I had to hold him down."

"Is it like a real arm?" Ed asks curiously. He always knew Pinako had something to do with this 'auto-mail' but he'd never truly seen it in action.

"Yeah! It's just like a real arm 'cept it's metal. And we've got to adjust it as he grows," she replies, obviously happy about talking of the subject. "Which you'd never have a problem with, Ed, 'cause you never grow."

"Prolly 'cause he never drinks his milk," teases Al.

"I'll have a growth spurt, I'm only eight! And milk is gross. I don't' see how you can drink that crap!" He argues crossly. "And I ain't ever going to have auto-mail. I'm not gonna go lumberjacking and cut off a limb or something."

"Well good. I'm never having auto-mail either," Winry agrees. "Then again if I lost an arm I might say different."

Edward shrugs. He opens his mouth as though he's going to add another of his thoughts to the conversation but Den suddenly jumps at him, knocking him into the grass, and licks at his face with glee.

"I guess we all agree on never getting auto-mail, right?" The blonde girl asks, glancing towards Alphonse who has yet to say much on the subject.

Al blinks in confusion then gets what she's saying. "I'm careful so I don't think I'll need it."

"You're more careful that Ed, atleast," she remarks with a smirk.

"I'll watch brother too. Resembool ain't that dangerous anyway."

.Thirty Six.

"I so can fly!"

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can! Just watch!"

That conversation can only lead to no good, Trisha thinks as she leaves her spot at the kitchen table.

Trisha comes into the living room just in time to witness her seven year old taking a dive off of the couch. Ed's arms slowly outstretch, each hand gripping an end of his bed sheet/cloak, supposing that this will help him to 'fly.'

It doesn't even aid him in floating. It's only a two foot difference from the couch arm to the floor and gravity doesn't waste any time in bringing his face to meet the wood with a loud thump.

"Edward!" The mother rushes to his side and rolls him onto his back. Thankfully he had enough sense to look to the side - perhaps to stare at Al in horror as he realized this was not going the way he planned - and didn't land right on his nose. There's a good-sized bruise on his cheekbone but besides this, nothing is hurt (except his ego).

"What got into you?" Trisha scolds. "I can't believe you. That was dangerous and you could have gotten hurt!"

"I told you so," says Al with a chuckle.

"'I told you so' has a brother, Al," hisses Ed while he rubs his aching face. "His name is 'Shutup.'"

.Thirty Seven.

It's a hot Sunday afternoon and the Elric boys are in their father's study looking up further alchemy information. Edward claims to be a boy genius, but Alphonse says maybe all of his success has gone to his head.

"Obviously you cannot assimilate the extent of my genius."

"Brother, you don't even know what half of those words mean."

This rings true and that's why Edward has to quickly come up with a retort. The best he can come up with is, ". . . But you don't either!"

"I don't care."

There is a pause where the two brother's just stare at eachother, each unsure why they're having this conversation.

"Well . . . well . . . so's your face!"

"That doesn't even make sense!" A shake of the head follows this declaration.

"You don't make sense." This is the laziest of all come backs: repeating what the other person has said. This is when Edward realizes he has lost and should just slink away with some dignity intact.

Instead of launching another verbal war that he's sure to lose, he crumples up a piece of paper and throws it at his little brother, then darts into a separate room before a counterattack can come his way.

.Thirty Eight.

"Brother, we shouldn't be in here!" hisses Alphonse. He watches as his brother tiptoes into the unwelcoming open doors of the abandoned barn. His trepidation to follow is severe and he's not sure if he should run or stay outside.

"It's fine, geesh!" scoffs Ed from inside. "Don't be such a sissy! The rumors aren't true."

"But how do you know? Ghosts are real, brother, and Old Man Beretta's ghost could be in there!" whines the six year old fearfully. Ghosts are the types of things that haunt his dreams.

He's heard about Old Man Beretta's ghastly death by falling onto a pitchfork from the second story of the barn, and that his ghost is haunting this very barn, so this is why he is frightened to enter. Edward is more brave apparently. Then again Al would be brave too if he didn't believe in ghosts.

"But why would someone lie about it?" Al asks. "And it's nighttime! We should go home!"

"It'll only take a minute. I just wanna' see what's in here," assures the older brother. "You can stay out there if you want to."

There's a mocking tone to Ed's voice that strikes Al hard. It's not his fault that the ghost will chase them out. He's just trying to be cautious. Al knows he's always being the careful one while his brother more or less heads straight forward into danger without a second thought. This has always gotten the older Elric into trouble but it doesn't seem to bother him too much.

"Ghosts don't exist."

"If they don't then why do people dress up as ghosts on Halloween?"

"People dress up as vampires and witches on Halloween but you don't see them showing up anywhere," Edward says from the darkness. With a quick change of subject he says, "There's not much in here. Just some left-over hay and horseshoes. It's safe if you want to come in."

"Horse's have shoes?" Al questions innocently as he steps inside the barn. There's a sliver of the sunset left on the horizon that lights some of the barn's innards. Just like his brother said there are only a few miscellaneous things left.

"Yes, Al. They even have tap dancing shoes," he replies sarcastically.

Al turns his back to his brother to look outside the barn. He's determined to get out of this creepy place even if he has to drag his older brother out by his hair. "Ha ha. Now can we--"

"Aaaahhh!"

Of course, if Ed's going to yell in terror, this makes Al freak out also. "Aaaahhh!" He stumbles over his own two feet before he can run out of the barn. He's not sure what he's running from but he doesn't want to know.

"Al, Al, wait up!" Ed shouts from behind. He's only a couple of feet behind but Al's adrenaline is causing him to run way too fast.

"I told you! You never listen!" yells Al who slows down to a jog. He looks over his shoulder and expects to see a transparent, white old man with bleeding red holes in his chest closing in on his brother. Instead he see's only Ed. "Where's the ghost?"

Ed comes to a stop to catch his breath. Although his whole face is red from running, his cheeks are tomato red, suggesting that he's blushing. He mumbles bitterly, "There's no ghost."

Confusion is heavy in Al's tone as he asks, "Then why'd you scream?"

"I don't scream. Girls scream," snaps Ed.

"Okay, whatever. You gave a macho yell or something. But why'd you do it? What was I running from?"

"I don't know what you were running from but I was running from a hoard of moths."

"Moths? You scared me just for moths?"

"I hate moths! They're ugly and freaky!" retorts Ed angrily. "And there were a bunch of 'em. I should just carry around moth balls in my pockets since I run into them everywhere I go!"

"And you call me a sissy," mutters Al and gets a playful swat across the head for the remark.

.Thirty Nine.

"Before you blow out the candles, have you made a wish?" asks Pinako. "It's very important, but don't say it out loud or it won't come true."

Edward takes a moment to think then says, "Got it!"

"You can blow out your candles now, Edward," instructs Trisha to her older son. He's sitting on her lap contentedly, with a huge smile and a brightly colored party hat strapped onto his head.

After blowing out the four candles Trisha takes them out of the cake. It's the shape of a cute rabbit, detailed right down to the whiskers and a fluffy, all-icing tail. She's proud of her handiwork and Edward obviously loves it from the joyous look in his eyes.

Trisha brings out the knife and begins to slice into the rabbit for the first piece. This is when Edward lets out a yell and grabs his mother's hands to pull the knife away.

"Edward, what's wrong?" Trisha asks, stopping and holding the knife out of her son's reach.

"You killed 'im!" He cries angrily. "You killed da bunny!"

"I wanna' eat 'im!" Al protests.

"You can't eat bunnies!" Edward retorts.

"It's not a real bunny," says Trisha with disbelief. She never foresaw this as a dilemma. "It's just a bunny cake."

Apparently this is the wrong thing to say because it draws a gasp from all of the children.

"You made da bunny into a cake?!" Now it's Edward's turn to sound startled.

"Momma, no! Why?" Al adds.

Winry just stands there looking at the cake as though she expects it to hop away at any moment.

"No, no. It's just a cake. No bunnies were sacrificed in the making of this cake, I swear," answers Trisha, hoping this will pacify him.

Pinako lets out a laugh. "Ah, children, so naive."

.Forty.

"Momma, what does 'jackass' mean?"

Trisha turns around from her dishes with both eyebrows rose. It's young Alphonse, only five years old, and there's a curious look in his eyes. Obviously he has no idea what the word means, ergo doesn't know he shouldn't say it. Then she reminds herself it can also mean donkey so maybe he heard a farmer say it.

"I guess it depends on how you use it," she responds carefully. "Where did you hear it?"

"Winry said it to Ed. She called him a jackass cause he tugged her ponytail."

"Oooh. Well, it's a bad word Al. She shouldn't have called him that even if he was being mean."

"So brother isn't a jackass?" He only asks so he can come to an understanding.

"No, he's not," she assures him. "But it can also mean donkey."

Alphonse is content with this and begins to eat the lunch she's set out for the boys. He munches on his PB&J sandwich for a minute. Then Edward comes storming in, probably just after an argument with Winry, and plops into his chair to eat without a word to say to his brother or mother.

"What?" Ed snaps at his younger brother who has been eyeing him for the few past minutes.

"Brother, how come you never told me you was a donkey?"

"Al, he's not a donkey," Trisha sighs from where she stands. She guesses he misinterpreted what she said.

Edward's not too sure if he wants to dispute the fact whether he is a four-legged animal or not. It's disturbing on many levels so he just keeps chewing on his own sandwich, and settles on looking at his brother as though he's some un-Earthly being.

There's a couple of minutes of awkward silence where the two children finish their meal. As their mother picks up their dishes to be clean Al looks in Ed's direction.

"Sorry for calling you a donkey, brother," apologizes Al. This is after he's determined it's not okay to call your sibling a donkey or a jackass.

It's the weirdest apology Edward has ever received.

I must admit I drew on personal experience for a couple of these. The "moth-zilla" thing is because I am really afraid of moths, and I swear there's this moth that shows up outside the window that is humongous, therefore I call him "moth-zilla".

Also the bunny cake thing is my doing. I was five and my mom started cutting into the cake and I cried, thinking she was killing the bunny. I was an animal-sensitive child.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated.