Disclaimers: I don't own FMA.

A/N: Alphonse's POV. (Any typos, please excuse. It is snowing. I have dial-up. And I am STUCK IN MISSOURI. WHAT. THE. FUCK. Okay. Yuh. This is why it is taking me so long. I promised you guys I'd update, don't think I'd forget you. I'm just stuck in the boonies. Being held hostage by my grandparents and my mother; but it's all good. Because my mechanic is here.)

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Fears of the Innocent

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I could hear the birds outside, calling everyone to wake up. I opened my eyes, then squeezed them shut again, rubbing at them with my balled fists. When I opened them again and blinked a few times, my vision cleared slowly. Brows furrowed, I sat up on my elbow, the cold floor pressing into my forearm and making me shiver.

Surveying the den, I found myself alone among the pillows and blankets, the candle doused and light flooding in through the open door.

"Brother?"

Climbing to my feet, I stifled a yawn of reluctant consciousness, wanting to go back to sleep and stay within my slumber all day; I padded out into the kitchen and shivered at the crisp morning air. The sun would rise fully and as it did so it would warm the houses on the hills from the outside in, and if we neglected to open the door and the windows, when we came back after school it would be close to baking inside.

There was no answer to my second call, so I figured he must be up the hill or on the second floor. Turning, I pattered into the bathroom and clicked the light on by pulling the string, then twisted the faucet on and ran my hands underneath the flow of water. It was icy. I splashed some on my face and drew in a squealing breath at the chill.

I fidgeted from foot to foot as I washed my face and my arms and my neck, then brushed my teeth, and ran the comb through my hair. The house, I noticed incredulously, was silent. There were no creaking floorboards, there were no pounding footsteps, there were none of the signs that my older brother was awake, hungry, and ready to get going. Of course, that wasn't as completely odd as it sounded – I had awoken to this kind of hush at least twice before, and Edward had been up the hill at the Rockbell house the whole time.

I grabbed onto my collar and yanked my shirt off over my head, carrying it with me up the stairs to where our bureau still stood in our room. Tossing the clothes I peeled off my body into a pile at my feet, I opened a drawer and pulled out some clean jeans and a white T-shirt. Gathering my dirty clothes under my arm I exited the second floor and drifted silently down the staircase, passing the living room threshold as I walked down the hall.

In the living room, my brother was standing with his back to the doorframe, hands on his hips, peering down at something on the coffee table. I stopped in the threshold, my stomach twisting momentarily; the fact that the house was as quiet as if he was not there, and yet he was there, was more frightening than the aspect that the house was quiet in the first place. For a moment I thought that I was listening to my own heart pound away relentlessly in my ears and I thought in the back of my mind, I wonder if that's what it sounds like to die? To hear it happen? before I realized that it was the big grandfather clock towering near the sofa.

"Brother?" I said again, minutely, almost whispering it. It cut through the pale morning stillness painfully and I had to keep myself from flinching in turn as I watched Edward's shoulders twitch in recognition and surprise. He didn't turn around.

"Morning, Al."

His voice sounded amazingly dead, and I knew he wasn't trying to make it sound more jovial; if he were, he would have looked at me and put on a grin, and I might not have been able to tell the difference or not.

I opened my mouth and for a few seconds nothing came out but my shaky breath. Then I said softly, levelly, as if I were speaking to an ill baby, "Yes. Morning."

He bent over and gathered up what he had on the coffee table: papers and some books. He tucked them under his arm and turned, keeping his head down as he strode towards and brushed past me. My heart dropped and my legs turned to jelly, the pit of my stomach tumbling down and my entire body tensing up and then crawling with shivers.

My brother's eyes were red, and that gave me one of the worst scares I think I'll ever have.

"Do you want any breakfast?" I mewled, a pathetic attempt of detective work.

"Nah."

"An apple?"

"Nah."

"Are you sure?" My voice was wheezing now, and I was following after him rapidly as he walked into the kitchen, almost to the point of panic.

Edward stopped and turned halfway, glimpsing at me with a blank look, his eyes slit and, for once, they were completely voiceless. My breath caught in my throat and I swallowed, recoiling slightly and hugging my dirty clothes to my side, fingers curling on the cloth. My heart was pummeling my chest.

"An apple, I guess, would be good," he said flatly, not one ounce of expression emitting with the words.

I nodded rapidly and turned, dropping my dirty clothes near the kitchen threshold. I snatched an apple from the bin and almost ran to the sink, washing it off and then handing it to him. Brother hadn't moved; he was still standing beside the kitchen table, watching me dully, his arms dangling near his sides. His hair made a blonde curtain around his eyes and I wanted to ask him if he was sick, but I knew for sure that, physically, he was as fit as possible.

"Thank you," he murmured as I dropped the apple into his palm. He lifted it to his lips and took a dainty bite, now watching the fruit in his hand as if it would start to voice protest about his mutilating chomps.

I skirted around the other side of the table and hurried to the windows, unlatching them and pushing them open. Then I opened the front door and frowned at the blast of fresh air and sound and light as I propped it open with the block of wood, scrounged for that reason only. I busied myself by striding from room to room on the first floor, opening the windows, then pounded up the stairs to crack the windows in the upper floor.

When I came back to the kitchen, he was gaping at his apple, two chunks missing. His backpack had magically relocated from the study to beside his feet and yet he was still in the same spot. I turned away as quickly as I could, my head spinning. He seemed so uneasy and shaky, so fragile…I snagged my bag from the den and then made my way back to the kitchen.

My brother was slumped, the apple resting on the table beside him. Standing in the threshold, I drew in a breath, trying to ease the alarm rising further in my chest. Edward turned his head up the slightest bit and actually offered me a minute smile, resting his hand on the edge of the table.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

My heart jerked. I frowned deeply and peered at him with new concern. "Why?"

"I just am. For everything. For dragging you into all this, for ruining your innocence, for making you so exhausted in every way with our studies."

"That's not true!" I exclaimed, dropping my bag. My brother lifted his chin, staring at me with a slight spark in his eyes. He seemed intent on his explanation, and I knew with confidence that he was blaming himself for everything that had ever happened to us, every day, overwhelming himself with the pain and the weight of our problems. And today he was cracking, wasn't he? The most horrible thing I realized as I stared back at him intensely…was that I didn't know what I could, what I should, do to make it go away.

"That's not true," I repeated with more force. "You brought this up to me, and I accepted it. I am as guilty for this already as you are." I paused, a terrible sensation of my heart being ripped in two occurring inside me. "I want to bring Mom back, too, Ed," I said slowly, loudly. A smile flickered on his mouth and he shifted, straightening up a bit.

"I know, Al. I know."

"Stop blaming yourself."

"Sure."

"Eat your apple!" I screamed, my hands curling into fists, a position that was so alien to my body that I stood there trembling and glaring and not sure of what else I was supposed to do. But I was acting how I felt, and that was all I could do, wasn't it.

Brother's smile only broadened and for a moment his eyes started to shine and I thought he was going to break down and cry in front of me. I took in a large breath and then sputtered, "Brother, are you…have you been…I…are you okay?" The last words of my horrible attempt at gaining authority came out as a shrill squeak.

"Headache, that's all. Got a lot on my mind."

Edward picked up his bag and turned, striding to the door weakly. "Let's head down to school now. I'll be careful; I promise I won't get sick, okay?"

That's not what I'm worried about. I wanted to pound that into his stupid obstinate head but I couldn't. I relaxed – or, in other ways, I deflated, completely defeated and nervous and tired already – and surrendered sadly, hooking my own bag on my shoulders. I wanted to ask him if he had been crying, but I had no freaking idea on how. How did you ask Edward, notoriously dry-eyed, stubborn, and untouchable, if he had been crying? I knew he had been either way, and tried to dismiss it.

"Brother…" I said. He looked at me with a distant, destroyed look blooming in his golden eyes like explosive petals. "Brother," I repeated, "we're all that we've got. Please don't give up. I'm just worried, that's all. If you don't feel good tell me. Remember what I said about needing a hero?"

"Yeah," he said succinctly, and smiled, and I think it was genuine this time. "I remember."

I smiled brightly in turn and stepped up close to him, pushing my shoulder against his. He looked a little startled, then accepted the gesture and knocked me with his arm in turn.

"It just really hurts sometimes," he mumbled, and turned his face away as we greeted the August sunshine.

"What does?" My hysteria had passed and now I was just the slightest bit uneasy, a little comforted with the fact that I had broken past his tenacity and blankness. I opted to push the anxiety birthed from his red and puffy, tear-stained eyes, out of my head, and succeeded.

"…Being alone, having to become a mother and a father so abruptly, growing up." He flashed me a modest smile and I had a sudden urge to hug him, but knew he'd shrug it off. Never mind that, I did it anyway.

He didn't refuse it. So I tightened my arms, suddenly feeling very tiny compared to my brother, though we were essentially the same size.

I suddenly felt very, very tiny.