Chapter 2

Al lay in bed, rigid, with his eyes wide open, determinedly not thinking about the conversation he had just had. He looked fixedly at the ceiling, not thinking about Ed, not thinking about Amestris, and certainly not thinking about Heidrich- no, his name was Alfons, dammit.

Too late.

Why did Ed insist on calling him by his last name, really? To avoid confusion- well, that was fair enough as long as he was talking to someone else about the two of them, but if he was talking to Al himself, surely it wasn't necessary? Not, it was strange, no doubt about it.

But he turned over onto his side, closing his eyes and not considering this. It wouldn't help, after all. He would never be sure about it until he asked Ed, and even then he couldn't be certain. Ed was not above lying to or deliberately hiding information from him, after all. It was infuriating; even though Al knew that his brother didn't like to seem weak and would never ask for help anyway. He sometimes- no, he often wished that Ed would stop being so noble and selfless for a change. It would help them both, in one way or another.

Well, that would never happen, but Al certainly could ask him about all this, and demand a straight answer from him this time, not like the answers he had been given earlier, if you could call those answers at all.

Yes. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed, determining to get up, march into Ed's bedroom, shake him awake and . . . and. . .

What could he do? He had already asked these questions, and he had been brushed off and avoided as though it was nothing. There was no use in asking for another time. He lay reluctantly down again, and drew the sheets up to his chin. It was useless. All that Ed was willing to say, he had already told him.

It was so pitifully little, though. What did he know now that he hadn't known for sure earlier? That Ed was a miser of information, which he had always suspected anyway, but what else?

Despite himself, he went through the conversation in his head, just in case there was something he had missed.

"Why are you crying?" Ed had asked, astonished and bewildered.

Al had said nothing, gulping down his tears and shaking with suppressed sobs.

Ed's eyes were wide with confusion as he stared at his little brother, helpless. "I'm . . . sorry, Al."

"Why?" Al had asked, looking up, no longer able to prevent himself. "Why don't you talk about Alfons? What happened to all the pictures of him? What- Why- Where are you all day?!"

Ed flinched.

As soon as he saw that, Al wished that the tone of his questions hadn't ended up so accusatory, but it was too late, and besides, that was the way he felt about it. Lies were lies, whether they were told with words or tone of voice, and Al wanted to be truthful.

Ed's face contracted and he stared down at the table in silence. Al watched him intently, tears still shining defiantly in his eyes, but determined, now that the questions had finally been asked, to get some information out of him.

Eventually Ed spoke. "Why are you so interested?"

"Because- Because this is my world too! I live here now, and I live with you, and I want to know."

Ed sighed. "You already know."

"But-!"

"Heidrich lived here for a while, that's all," he continued unwaveringly. "But then he was killed. That's it."

That was not it.

"As for where I go, well. . ." Ed hesitated momentarily, but continued with further resolve. "You don't need to know."

That had been that. Ed, despite Al's numerous protests, had said no more, and had retired to his room shortly afterwards.

Al winced involuntarily after thinking that, as if Ed had actually heard him associate his brother with the word "short" in any way at all.

He gritted his teeth, and frowned in frustration. Other that searching through Ed's bedroom for clues again, which he didn't want to do- he still felt guilty about the first time- or following him all day, there was nothing he could do to find out more.

It was the exclusion that pained him the most. Being left behind, unable to help, and not being a part of Ed's plans, no matter what they were or how dangerous they could be, was a strange, sickening sort of situation, and not one that he felt he could get used to. Even worse was not even having any idea about what the strange mission was.

He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, trying to somehow smother his thoughts for a moment, long enough to get to sleep. If only he hadn't begun this investigation in the first place, he though longingly, in a tone almost akin to mental whining, this would never have happened.

He seemed to have a habit of only realising things after it was too late, recently.

---

Ed glared at the streetlamp glow shining palely through his window and cutting a slim slice of yellow light across the ceiling of his bedroom, and, for once in his life, wished for curtains. For heaven's sake, he ought to have been able to just clap his hands, and problem solved. Even without alchemy, he had used to be able to just dip into his military funds whenever he needed to. Finding himself suddenly penniless and unable to use his greatest talent was not something that he could adjust to easily, even after this much time. With a scowl, he wondered if he could knock out the bulb of the lamp with a shoe from his window.

But, he admitted to himself with a sigh, the light was by no means the only thing preventing him from sleeping. Damn, Al's questioning was persistent. Constantly asking him about Heidrich. . . As if he could give a straight answer. It was far more complex than Al thought.

Ed didn't even know why Al was asking. Jealousy, he figured, was probably the most likely cause. Al was somehow jealous of his cross-dimensional self, if that was even possible. And if that was the case, then it would do no good to tell him more, and would possibly only make things worse. If Al envied Heidrich the time he had had with Ed, then surely Ed ought to make it seem as though they had hardly known each other, and that he was hardly affected now that Heidrich was dead. Then there would be nothing to be jealous of. But for some reason this tactic only seemed to make Al even more upset.

And then there was what he was doing. Ed hadn't expected Al to ask about it; had thought that by now Al would understand that Ed didn't like to drag other people into possible danger; that he was only trying to protect his younger brother.

But then another thought came to him, making it still more difficult to sleep.

---

Breakfast the next morning was a subdued affair, each of them deliberately not catching the other's eye. Al stared out of the window, unsure whether to scowl or look plaintively at his brother. Ed looked away in turn, keeping his eyes on his plate. Al couldn't read his expression.

Eventually the silence was broken. Ed pushed his chair back and stood with a decisive action, grabbing his coat from off the back of his chair. "I'll be going then."

Al glanced at him briefly, before slumping his shoulders and looking away again, leaning his chin on his hand and staring at the wall.

Ed stood by his chair as he pulled his coat on and tied back his hair. "What?"

Al looked up at him in confusion. Ed was still standing there, looking down at him expectantly. Expecting what? "Aren't you going?"

"Well, yes, moron, that's why I'm waiting for you," Ed said patiently.

Al started, and looked up at him in bafflement. "Huh?"

"Can't you remember where you left your coat?"

Al's eyes widened with astonishment. "But. . ."

"You can borrow mine, if you want."

"N- no, it's alright. . ."

"Then let's go."

It wasn't until they had left the house and Ed was locking the door behind them that Al managed to formulate a coherent sentence. "But I thought I didn't need to know?"

"So did I," Ed said bluntly, putting the key away and turning to face him, hands in his pockets. "But . . . you helped me for years that last time, and you didn't need to then, either. And, well, you'd bug me for a million years if I didn't let you this time."

Ed walked away to the corner of the street, turned back, and gestured over his shoulder to hurry up. Al stared at him, speechless.

Then his face split into a delighted smile and he ran to catch up with his brother.

Author's note: Yay happy end! Happy end makes for happy writer. The hardcore angst fans might be a bit disappointed, though.

Well, my deranged little plot bunny has evolved into what could almost be referred to as a whole other chapter. It's a lot shorter than the first one, though. Blame that on the fact that this one has a lot more Ed in it. Sorry, sorry.

I wrote this chapter to finish the story off a bit, seeing as this would really be the end of the end if it was official. After the anime and after the movie. I hatehatehate open endings, so . . . I wrote more. And there was much rejoicing. Me: Yay!