Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.

- x -

He wouldn't have noticed them if she wasn't still talking to herself.

At first it was just another voice in the small crowd gathered outside the heavy double doors of the Parliament House. Masking the trials would have been a terrible mistake; though the Parliament House had its own doors to the outside world and was technically supposed to be open to citizen review at all times, these particular trials had, by their nature, been closed to the public. It kept anyone from wandering in from the street, and kept military officers like himself out of the loop, but specially identified and well-behaved reporters and media were allowed to take pictures of everyone going in or out. And since everyone in relation to the assassination trials were being kept in the secret prison beneath the Prime Minister's office, an adjoining building, that meant that the public got daily updates on how the defendants were faring though they never took a step outside.

It also meant there was always a crowd outside the doors, even if relatively small, and Al was just as happy to stand far back and let them mill than be recognized and questioned himself. He'd been reading the papers. West regularly got information from Creta; until the war there had been open trade between Amestris and Creta, and obviously some of the wares peddlers weren't going to let a little thing like war get in the way of free trade. Not that the Amestrian soldiers letting them cross the border to the tune of coins jingling in their pockets were any better.

It meant that papers were moving across the border, and information with it. Information such as eye-witness accounts of the death of the Full Metal Alchemist, whose rampant and unprovoked aggression on an innocent border patrol had instigated the attack on Amestris. When cooler heads had prevailed, Creta had just managed to call off their attack moments from taking West City, not wanting to cause an all-out war with Amestris. Media and propaganda there was all state-controlled; there were 'smoothing' talks ongoing with Amestris, according to Creta, and they were demanding an apology for attacking their border patrol.

Which any Amestrian in West knew was bullshit, but considering there were scattered reports that a corpse had come into West City before the battle, and a blurry picture of someone who might have been blond (and absolutely had been Edward) carried on a stretcher off a train, the morning's paper had included an article on the bottom of the front page, 'Where's the People's Alchemist?'

He wasn't looking forward to fending off reporters trying to confirm or dispel that his brother was dead. All he wanted was to pick up the Tringums and get back to the hospital quickly and quietly, so they could confer with the surgeons, look at the latest test results, and start treating Pinako.

But that soft voice was unmistakable, even under the din.

"-just a boy, this is a madhouse, not a law building-"

He craned his neck, using his height to look over reporters as tall as he was for a silvering head. She'd been seated when he'd last seen her, but of course he recalled even then how short she'd been compared to the donut counter. She wasn't much taller than Ed had been, back when he'd been one of her customers, and her husband, while a bit taller, was such a wisp of a man he could disappear if he turned sideways.

It was his wiry frame Al spotted first, and could only assume what he'd thought was a shadow by his side was actually his wife. The reporters were basically ignoring them, so Alphonse left the relative safety of anonymity and approached them nonchalantly, to attract as little attention as possible.

"Mr. and Mrs. Price?"

Dolph turned; Madelyne either hadn't heard him or was used to her husband fielding such questions. The man's ever-impassive face was still as dull and unfriendly as it had been when he'd knocked on the man's door, what seemed a lifetime ago, but then the eyes focused on him more fully.

"Alphonse Elric," he stated. "Honey glazed." And then a thick, knotted hand was held out to him.

He was stunned, but remembered himself and returned the gesture. It was a baker's hand, crushingly strong, and it occurred to Al to be grateful the man wasn't left-handed; he no longer had the sling to remind people of his not-quite healed shoulder. Luckily, Dolph was arthritic himself, and it was a clasp more than the full-body shaking that had been Avram Blane's greeting of choice.

"How did you get in here?" He said it in a lower voice, not wanting to leave Madelyne out of the conversation but afraid to speak up. She seemed oblivious; her silvering hair was hidden in a dark navy headscarf, and she seemed to have her arms wrapped around her chest. Her mutterings continued and she watched the double-doors as if molten lava would pour out if they were opened.

"Patrick Dranyeld's boy was at the door," Dolph answered inflectionlessly. "Blueberry and sour cream. Tried to pinch a dozen mebbe nine years ago with counterfeit coin. Maddie caught him, though. Her eyes are still sharp enough."

There was none of the expected anger in the man's voice and face, and Alphonse hesitated before he spoke again. "Franklin's . . . he's having a hard time right now." He dropped his voice even lower, just to ensure Madelyne wouldn't hear. "You may not want your wife to see him right now."

"It's not about what we want," the old baker answered, and he put a hand on his wife's shoulder. She left off her single-minded staring at the double-doors to turn, and Al's stomach sank when he saw she was carrying the quilt, neatly folded and bundled in her arms.

The one she'd been working on when he'd gone to their house, four miles outside of downtown Central, and told them that helping him would save Franklin.

The papers weren't sure of the whole story; the trial's transcripts would be released to the general public after conclusion of the trials themselves, so speculation on what the young man had done to be a suspect was running rampant in the papers. Some of it was frighteningly accurate, and since he'd told them days ago it might be biological transmutation, they were probably fearing the worst.

If they actually knew what biological transmutation was. As taboo as the subject could be, only those familiar with alchemy knew that.

"He wouldn't have called us kin unless he needed some. So we're here."

Al found himself nodding. They'd probably tried to get in every day since Franklin Sorn had made the papers, and just lucked out that someone from Liore had happened to be on guard duty today-

The double doors swung open, signaling the end of the morning's session, and the usual bedlam began. The suspects were the first out, for the safety of the Prime Minister and all others in attendance, and Al was astonished to see Avram Blane being led out, two guards in the lead and two behind. He wasn't shouting incomprehensibly, which Al had heard he'd done earlier, and seemed rather sullen. He didn't give them - or the reporters - a second look, too caught up with some inner turmoil. Madelyne took a step forward, but Dolph caught her elbow before Al could.

"He'll get his, Maddie. You'll see."

"He better!" She didn't keep her voice down, and a few of the reporters in the back turned to give the old couple an inquisitive look. They were far too old to be with the media, they might suspect they were someone's parents, and if they asked-

But then they turned around at an excited murmur from their colleagues, and in much the same fashion, Franklin Sorn was paraded into the lobby.

Like Blane, his hands were bound behind him and in wood, unable to touch each other or anything else. His arms were held by his leading guards, and the two behind were to ensure there was nothing left to chance. He looked tiny between his guards, clean and tidy but in prison blues and with his eyes firmly glued to the floor. Madelyne started forward again, this time with her husband at her side, and Al hesitated. They weren't supposed to be there, and he could understand that they wanted to support Sorn but those guards wouldn't-

Right behind Sorn came the Prime Minister's head of security, to ensure he had a clear path to his building, and Al raised his arm high, waving for her attention. The moment he had her eyes he indicated the old couple, almost lost in the dozen reporters, and the slight smile she'd been trying for faded into watchfulness.

The old couple had chosen the path of least resistance, planting themselves firmly in the way so the guards had no choice but to move past them, and this was not unnoticed by the journalists. Cameras started flashing more emphatically, and the lead guards slowed. Before they could say anything, however, Colonel Hawkeye had caught the rear guard and they brought the procession to a halt. He saw her hand come out, waving him in, and Al shouldered past the reporters. They were mostly silent, thrilled with this chance for exclusive coverage, and he came to stand with his left shoulder touching her right, turning his face almost into the side of her head to hide his lips.

"Madelyne and Dolph Price, his guardians."

Guardians that were not legally part of the process only because Sorn was being tried as an adult. And Al could guess that Hakuro had purposefully not dropped that requirement when he'd dropped the treason charges, to put more pressure on Franklin to break. Unless the boy cracked on the stand, Patterson's confessions would hold.

Only he already looked cracked, into pieces that might never fit back together again. He was unrecognizable as the cool, focused teen that attended his lectures and tried invisibly to impress him. He was in no better shape than he'd been when Al had walked him back to his cell following Patterson's suicide.

And almost his own.

When his guards had stopped, Sorn had glanced up, and now he was staring, wide-eyed, at the familiar couple looking back at him. Cameras flashed like lightning, bleaching their skin and making them look even older than they were, but the bulbs couldn't compare to how brightly Madelyne was smiling at him.

Hawkeye waved them forward, and a word from her had the lead guard reluctantly letting go of the boy. Sorn didn't move, just stared at them as Dolph walked up without the slightest sign of self-consciousness. At the last moment Franklin seemed to realize that no one was holding him, and he stepped directly into Dolph's chest. The baker's worn hand came up to wrap around the back of his neck, the other resting on the middle of his back as Franklin hid his face in the man's shirt.

Al watched Hawkeye approach Madelyne, who had realized that Franklin had no hands to accept the quilt with, and he marveled at how well the old woman handled the media attention. Then again, she'd been in crowds all her life, and he smiled a little as he heard Hawkeye raise her voice, repeating something to the half-deaf woman.

The clamor of the press was not helping, and he cleared his throat, turning fully to face them as if to leave.

He'd been a fly on the wall in the back, but now he was someone who had approached the Prime Minister's Chief of Security, and it only took a few seconds before one of the ones in the back, unable to get a good photo of the Prices, recognized him.

A picture of an old couple comforting one of the accused was a great heartwarming piece, but having the brother of the now 'missing' Full Metal Alchemist at their disposal was front page material. He was mobbed in an instant.

"Alphonse Elric! How does it feel to be called hero of Jannai-"

"Alphonse Elric, do you know the whereabouts of your brother-"

"Mr. Elric, can you tell the Amestrian people if your brother is alive-"

He smiled and waved vaguely, leading the press slowly away from both the doors and the Prices. He never turned to see what happened, whether the colonel spirited them away or whether their reunion was cut short by procedure, but it wasn't long before he found himself answering questions, because he couldn't think of a reason not to. The press was not allowed in HQ hospital, but there was no reason to withhold Ed's general condition. Obviously the military had because of the question of his lack of automail, but he could skirt that easily enough and still run interference.

"He's alive and well. I don't know what you've been reading, but the Cretans have it all wrong."

"So he wasn't at the city when it was attacked-"

"What about the rumor of his being executed-"

Al held up a hand. "Please, one at a time."

In that way he kept them engaged until the unmistakable heads of the Tringums swung into his field of vision, behind the reporters. Obviously Parliament had emptied out behind him in the meantime, but at least the papers would state tomorrow that Edward Elric was alive, his condition and whereabouts were classified but he had not been executed, and that an exclusive interview and photography rights had been granted to a newspaper source Al could not reveal, which everyone could be looking forward to shortly.

Which was a lie, and probably meant he'd have to contact someone at a newspaper and talk nii-san into giving a quick interview. In long sleeves. In his bed. In fact, he should probably get the same guy that had gotten that photo of him and Mustang the night Irving had attacked, and tell nii-san it wasn't the same guy . . . that photo had been worth a thousand laughs and it might distract Ed from some of the more serious things he was facing.

And while he didn't regret stepping out and giving Sorn and the Prices the time, he was regretting how much it was slowing down getting the Tringums to Pinako. He caught Russ's eye and tossed the keys over the reporters, which attracted their attention to Fletcher. However, he was able to state that he'd not been called to the stand yet and was feeling much better, thank you, and once Russell had the car idling outside in the circular drive it was easy enough to beat a hasty retreat.

Russell was not amused. "What the hell was that all about, Elric? We just blew ten minutes-"

"Sorn's guardians were there."

There was a brief pause, and Al grabbed the side of the car door as Russ took a quick right turn. "Guardians . . .?"

"The Prices. Owned a donut shop in Liore, brought him to Central when he broke his leg. I went to visit them when you went after Blane." And had mentioned them on the train once they'd handled triage in Jannai, but he wasn't surprised Russ didn't remember. "He bought them a house here in Central when they retired, and she came to give him the quilt she'd been making as a thank you."

Fletcher was in the back seat, chewing on his bottom lip. "Wow. I hate that they had to see him like that, but . . . yeah, I agree. The surgeons can wait."

Russ didn't take his eyes off the road - which was good, as he seemed intent on making up the lost time - but his jaw relaxed a little. "Okay, fine, good excuse."

Al almost didn't want to ask. "How'd he do in there?" Obviously not too well if they were both so quick to capitulate, particularly Russ-

Neither Tringum wanted to say, so Al turned to Fletcher, who was not the one guiding the car, and the man gave him a pained look. "You get the feeling, watching him, that he's just repeating what someone told him to say. I don't know that the panel's going to buy it, even though there's nothing to disprove it. It got so bad Tash actually made a crack, that he wasn't aware the Mechanical Alchemist was such an accurate title."

Al grimaced. If he was found guilty on all the other charges, he could still be put away for quite a while. "He disassociating himself, or what?"

"Maybe." But it sounded doubtful. "Maybe it's because he won't eat, all the weight he's lost . . . I don't recognize that guy, and I had classes with him two weeks ago."

Al turned back around in his seat when Fletch didn't say anything else, and he kept his eyes on the road.

They made excellent time, and when they arrived, Al wasn't sure if he should make a comment that he felt like he'd been driving with Ed, or compliment the man on the fact that he was a good driver indeed - anyone else probably would have made a mistake. The other world had seen many people who wanted increasingly fast cars; that world was always in a hurry. This world moved a bit more sedately, so the top speed of most cars was about seventy miles an hour. The cars were not built to maintain that speed particularly well, so handling was an issue and if the streets had been wet they probably never would have made it.

He'd forgotten that Russ was such a stickler on time. Or maybe it was because they felt they had so little credibility with Ackernath that showing up late to the pre-op review would only make things worse. Al offered to park the car when they arrived, and the Tringums were happy to let him do it, but then there was nothing more to be done but wait.

His brother's room was not under guard by any of his therapists, so he knocked gently, and when he didn't hear anything, he poked his head inside. Rather unfortunately, this time there was no Winry in the bed, just his brother, one arm flung carelessly over his eyes, and an otherwise empty room.

"Come in already."

Al did as he was told, deciding the cot looked particularly inviting, and once he'd stretched out similarly they chewed the silence for a moment before Al decided to start.

Obviously Dalyell had made good on her threat of making him talk after his water therapy sessions.

"Brought the Tringums back. There was a little hitch, though."

Edward didn't move. "Oh?"

"Sorn's guardians snuck in. I pulled the reporters off them but it slowed us down a little bit, so Russ is in a mood."

Not even a toe twitched, but his voice seemed a little more engaged when he spoke. "His guardians?"

"The Prices. They owned that donut shop in Liore."

". . . the one at the north end of the plaza, right?"

Al found himself grinning, and he closed his eyes. "The very one. They remembered your fondness for honey glazed donuts, and said I should drag you over there sometime for a couple dozen."

"That doesn't sound half bad."

"You finally getting your appetite back?"

"Was thinking about it." If it had been five years ago, that statement would have been followed up by a heartfelt growl from his stomach region, but it wasn't, and it didn't. His lack of motion was also seriously starting to worry him.

Al resisted the urge to roll onto his side and actually watch him. "We should take Winry with us. I'm sure Rose's told her about them." He hesitated, then decided to just jump right in. "She's too thin."

" . . . yeah. I noticed."

"You talk to her?"

Ed adjusted his face beneath his arm. "A little." Al used his silence to press for more information, and eventually his brother capitulated. "She just needed a little downtime. The idea wound her up pretty tightly."

As they'd known it would. Or rather, the imagined price of failure would. Much like Pinako had had to decide to risk what she had left for a theoretical more, Winry had to deal with the idea that last night might really have been her last night. They'd given her almost no warning, either, and she'd obviously put two and two together from his revealing that Pinako had been mentioned in Patterson's documents. His name was mud.

Which was why he'd left them the hell alone last night, and made himself scarce cleaning up their place, which hadn't seen them in a week and had made him quite a bit more lonely than he'd anticipated. The threat was over now, but it was so easy to imagine that Ed would never have returned, and he'd have to clean out that room like Russ had almost had to do.

Two for three. It was too much to hope that they might get Pinako back.

"I noticed you weren't here this morning."

Al smiled at the ceiling. "Just wanted to give you two lovebirds some time-"

Edward groaned. "Knock it off."

"I got the feeling she wasn't going to let me repay her favor," he said, a little more soberly. "Wasn't that long ago I was crying on her shoulder, but . . . even hugging her was too much just then. She's been so busy taking care of all of us that she hasn't had a minute to herself in a while. I wanted to give her that."

He heard his brother shift on the bed. "I . . . she'll be okay." Avoiding the first part of his response, in classic Edward Elric style. "I'm a little surprised she's not in here."

"She wanted to watch." Al sighed, imaging the air as water in his lungs, sweeping in crisp and clean and carrying all the muck out when it left. "Wasn't much room left in the operating theater, considering everyone else wanted to observe, but Ackernath let her." Probably required a little more coercion than Patterson, but he could also understand that she couldn't bear to wait only to get that news.

"Were Russ and Fletch okay with that?"

"Dunno if they know. And I doubt they care." They'd own up to their mistakes honestly, and Russ was probably more concerned with what Ackernath thought than being self-conscious in front of Winry. "It's going to go fine."

"I know that." The sound of rubbing.

"That bad, huh?"

A quiet sigh. "I really don't want to talk about this."

"I really don't give a damn," Al replied in the same voice. "I know you, remember? There are some things we don't need to talk about, and some things we do."

And with that declaration, the chewable silence returned. He let it go on for a while, giving his brother time to find a good place to start, but this time silence didn't make him talk.

Fine. It wasn't just Ed's side of things he needed. "Remember right after you got back, and slept through a visit with the Tringums and had the shorted debrief in history with Mustang?"

A long pause. "With you jumping out of your skin every time Hawkeye or Mustang looked at you?"

He'd tried to be good about it. "Yeah. That." Al kicked off his shoes, letting them fall to the floor with clattering thumps. "Hakuro knew I was down in the dungeon learning healing alchemy firsthand, and they got the call that dead you arrived in West City. The general, in his infinite wisdom, sent his doctor down to sedate me, so if I heard the rumor I wouldn't lose it." No sound from the other bed, and Al smiled humorlessly at the memory.

"Russ pulled out the sedatives, and I marched upstairs, heard the rumor, and lost it. Said some pretty horrible stuff. Then I went to wait, because there wasn't anything else to do. Ended up in Pinako's room after I checked in here for the shoulder, and woke up leaning on Win." He scratched the ball of his right foot idly with his left. "Remind me to be reported dead, just so you can appreciate how that felt."

The bed was silent a long time. "Almost happened," his brother finally replied, in a low voice. "Back in Germany. They pulled your medical records to confirm you didn't have automail, and since we lived together obviously you were colluding with me to keep it hidden." Ed hesitated. "Promise me you aren't going to use this to feel guilty with."

So they'd threatened to kill him and Ed had bought his safety -

With the automail. Traded Klein something, information, instruction, cooperation-

Dammit. "We were always ready for them to catch on. I'd noticed you were missing by then, you know."

"I know." It was thick. "But . . . it was my idea, joining the military, even though you didn't want us to. Couldn't stand the idea of history repeating itself."

Al digested that. "It's not the same. You walked right into it this time, Ed. You just walked right in and couldn't get back out. Has it sunk in, just how lucky you were? I mean, honestly?"

A deep breath. "Probably not yet." More rubbing. "If it wasn't for that bastard Luis, I'd have gotten myself out of there. Damn that kid, I don't know what the hell he was waiting for, if he could transmute by touching hand to foot."

"He wasn't trussed up like you?"

Motion on the bed - rubbing his bandaged wrists. "Nope. At least, not the whole time. And he wasn't scared. Wasn't anything like you're describing now." He trailed into more sober silence for a while. "Assuming I don't end up in prison on human transmutation charges, I wonder if it's worth petitioning the bastard to keep him certified."

Al felt an eyebrow curl. "Sorn?"

"I . . . was thinking about that this morning." Then he snorted.

Which meant Dalyell had dragged him down that road, kicking and screaming.

"I was thinking he was like us. A little walking talking us. He's brilliant. He lost his parents when he was young, and he wanted them back. He studied alchemy, found a way, joined the military to get his information, and he tried it. And he was manipulated indirectly by Dante the whole way."

Al turned that over in his brain. "But he's not us," he contradicted. "We kept at it because everyone told us we couldn't. He kept at it because Blane told him he could. It was far too big for him."

"We committed forbidden transmutation and broke the laws of science. I'd say that's pretty damn big."

Technically they could blame the Gate for the latter. "We. I think that's the difference."

The mattress creaked. "You think if he had a sibling Blane wouldn't just have twisted them too?"

Al found himself smiling fondly at the ceiling. "No, I think you're right about that." Or killed them outright. "Lucky us, we weren't all alone in the world. Everyone told us we couldn't, but everyone helped. Sensei, Sig, Mustang and the guys and Hawkeye and Sheska, Winry and Aunt Pinako, the Tringums . . . even father," he added softly. "We always had someone rooting for us. He didn't have a chance."

"You feeling sorry for him?" There was odd husky lilt to his voice.

" . . . it's," and he looked for the right words, "It's too easy to imagine that you could have been him. If things had worked out differently."

The bed laughed. "Is it bad I was thinking the same thing, except about you?" More motion, apparently Ed was grabbing a blanket. "I'm torn between wanting to rip his head off and . . . I guess there's no and. Even if he knows I lived, and I don't end up staring at a concrete wall the rest of my life, there's nothing I could do that would make him feel any better."

"You don't know that-"

"I do." It was quiet. "Because there'd be nothing in the world that would make me feel better if I was in his place. If . . . if we hadn't found a way to get you back. If the armor had rejected you and I was left . . ." He seemed to think that was a good place to stop.

But letting the kid quit now, when he had so much promise . . . when he could transmute by touching hand to foot, when- "I don't know if I told you. He can also transmute by completing a circle with another alchemist."

". . . what?" Ed's head came off the pillows and Al turned to meet his gaze.

"Yep. Felt weird as hell."

If possible, his brother's eyes widened, then narrowed considerably. "What do you mean, felt weird as hell?"

He gave Ed a bright grin. "I pinned him to a wall, and had his arms behind him, and he used me to complete an array. Tried to escape by going face-first through the concrete."

"Al-"

"Still here," Al reminded him, waving an arm at him. "It wasn't human transmutation. It was using another system to complete the circle." And it sort of made sense that someone so familiar with the intricacies of mechanical systems would be able to instinctively use other systems to his advantage, but that still made him the most advanced with alchemy that didn't require an array.

"I wonder if Dante could do that," Ed mused aloud, dropping back down to the pillows when he realized he had no room to bitch about the risk Al had taken. "Transmute hand to foot, or through another alchemist. Or a homunculus-"

"Stop right there." Al shook his head. "Let's not go down that road. You've got enough fresh meat on your plate without bringing up everything else."

This time Ed put the arm behind his head, instead of over his eyes. Which didn't really look all that puffy, so apparently just the threat of tears was enough. Or he was getting better at hiding it. "Oh, sure, we can talk about anything you want, but if we hit a topic you don't like it's-"

"I-" And then Al stopped. "I'm just saying, a lot happened. In your shoes, I'd have been . . . pretty sure it was over." He quelled the desire to fidget. "And I've sort of been there, so I know there's never any time for any real thoughts or regrets . . . but I've never . . . had to watch it coming unless it was my own doing." Then he groaned. "And that came out all wrong. Dammit, nii-san, are you okay? Really?"

The bed was quite still, but not for long. "It . . . I think it would have been different if Havoc wasn't there." He, too, seemed at a loss for words. "When I saw him, I remember thinking that he was going to try something, and if he'd come all the way there to get me out then I needed to be ready and not fuck it up. But . . . I'd take that over . . . other things." It ended lamely, and Al swiped the pillow out from under his head and hurled it at the bed.

"You wanna tell me what you were gonna say before you gave me the watered down version?"

"No. You just used up your only ammunition."

"You're getting a shoe next," he warned, and instead of whining, Ed just looked at him. A few unreadable expressions crossed his face, then something that Al was almost certain was embarrassment. And suddenly the covering of the face made sense.

He wasn't covering his eyes because he'd been crying. He was covering them because he was ashamed.

"I'd . . . I'd rather be shot than have not woken up." His eyes slithered away to the wall. "From that fucker Luis," he added, a little savagely. "Talk about someone who takes more pleasure in their job than they should. He was like a short, sadistic Falman."

Al knew it wasn't helping, but he couldn't force himself to lie back down. "Is that the name of the guy that electrocuted you?" It was so hard to say it was almost ridiculous.

Ed nodded tightly, still not looking at him. "It was too easy this time, Al. And . . ." He turned away completely, flopping flat onto the bed so that no part of his face was visible from Al's position. "I could have stayed there." It was nearly a whisper. "I don't know how they woke me up, Al. What if I don't wake up?"

"It's not going to happen again," he heard himself say, firmly. "You don't need automail anymore and you're not - I'm not letting it happen again." He sat up, folding his legs under himself, and stared at his brother's chin. "It's not going to happen again." He could understand how terrifying that prospect could be, that one day he'd get hurt so badly that his body would heal but the rest of him wouldn't. Truly trapped, without being dead.

It was too close to his own fears.

But Ed was unlikely to be subjected to automail-like pain again, unless it was in cases like this, very specifically inflicted. It wouldn't happen again. He could promise that.

Al watched his brother's adam's apple bob. "Well, that make things simple, doesn't it." Ed cleared his throat. "I'm okay, Al. Really." When he didn't get a response he dropped his chin, peering over his covered feet, and frowned at him. "Dammit, why doesn't anyone believe me when I say that? I'll live. I'm fine. The world is not ending, and it'll be okay. How many damn times do I need to repeat myself here?"

The sarcasm, the words, they were everything he expected, they were Edward's masks and they were whole and in place. He wasn't in pieces. He'd screwed up, but he hadn't failed. Most of all, his eyes still held shame, but also anger, affection, exasperation-

Ed.

"As many times as it takes, Herr Tringham."

Edward's mouth fell slightly open, then snapped shut again, and he snagged a pillow - the one he'd thrown at him - and slammed his head down on it. Not fast enough to hide his smile, though. "That's not fucking funny, Al."

"I thought it was hilarious."

- x -

Author's Notes: (stares up at chapter) So, yeah, that was the 'scene' I left out of the last chapter. It was supposed to be filler during Pinako's surgery. Frank's finally got a friend, and Ed and Al had a random heart to heart. Well, that and I had to set up one more thing, but I doubt at this point it'll surprise anyone . . .

As always, posted without a beta! You guys have been dolls about finding my typos - thank you all so much! And I'm sure that JChrys is secretly fond of Hakuro now. Really. Even though she denies it. Since this scene ran so long it bumped Mustang and Hawkeye - so you can be sure that will be resolved one way or another by next chapter. (Well, okay, no, it won't be resolved for years, but for the purposes of this fic, it will be addressed next chapter.)