Alphonse was dreaming, and he knew it, but that did not detract from the absolute horror of what he was witnessing.

He watched, detached from the dream, as he saw himself, screaming as black vines constricted around his dream self and pull him into the wall. Even so, Alphonse barely paid attention to his dream self; his attention was focused on Edward, his legs tied up in filthy rags, writhing in pain in a pool of blood on the floor and mostly unconscious.

"No…Al…Al…Alphonse!" Ed moaned, weakly lifting an arm towards the blank wall through which the dream Alphonse had disappeared. A thin arm, black as a starless night reached out from the wall towards Ed's blood-stained hand.

"Brother, I'm here!" Alphonse tried to shout, but he had no presence in the dream. He watched helplessly as Ed strained to reach the unearthly limb. "Brother, I'm here", said a voice that issued forth from the wall, in Alphonse's own voice. "Al…phonse…" Ed breathed as his hand hit the floor and he fell unconscious.

Al was relieved that Ed no longer reached for the dark monster, but filled with absolute horror when he saw it continued to reach for his brother.

"Ed! Edward! Wake up! Run away! Don't let it get you!" Alphonse screamed in his head. "NO!"

Al wrenched upright out of the bed. His sudden movement caused the piece of paper on the nightstand to slide off and flutter to the floor. It was still dark outside, and he was sitting fully dressed in his suit on the bed, with his shoes on.

He groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto his face, which was still stiff and puffy with yesterday's tears. Tears flowed afresh, staining the pillow. Impatiently brushing away the wetness in his eyes, he remembered the paper. He kicked off his shoes and climbed out of bed to retrieve it. Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he read:

Alphonse:

Breakfast is on the table. When you're done eating, get some firewood. I'm going to the market for some more food.

Be back soon,

Ed

Al sighed. Ed was shirking out of getting firewood again, but then again, he was going to market by himself. Al washed his face and changed his clothes. Then he shuffled to the kitchen table down the hall.

To his surprise, Ed was already there, eating breakfast while reading a book. "Morning, Al. Lots to do today", Ed grunted, his mouth full of food. Al nodded. "Well this is good, we can have breakfast together!" Ed exclaimed, closing the book.

Al took a closer look at what was in the glass next to Ed's plate. "Brother…is that milk in your glass?" Al breathed, incredulous. Ed's smile faded. "Yeah. So what?" he muttered, looking away. "You hate milk. You always have", Al said baldly.

Ed shot him a stern glance. "Mom says its important to drink at least one glass of milk a day. So that's what I'm doing." He crossed his arms and closed his eyes, looking proud of himself.

"But brother…you still haven't drunk it yet", Al giggled. Ed's eyes snapped open as his arms fell to his sides. "Oh. Yeah. Um…" he stammered. He eyed the white semi-opaque liquid with absolute revulsion.

"Yeah, no problem!" he cried, reaching for the milk with a reluctant but unhesitating hand. Throwing his head back, he swallowed the by now lukewarm milk in one gulp. The glass clanked against the table as he set it down and shuddered.

Al was impressed. He silently finished his own breakfast without incident and went outside to get firewood. By now the sun had risen just a bit over the horizon.

As he set the firewood down by the back door, he saw Ed's retreating figure in the distance. Al put a hand just above his eyes to better see his brother. He sighed and shook his head when he saw that Ed was reading the book again as he walked. Every dozen steps or so, he stumbled because he was so absorbed in what he was reading that he failed to watch where he was going.

Al considered that. Why would Ed be so preoccupied with a book…unless…it was a book about Alchemy?

He gasped, realization hitting him hard. Al scrambled up the stairs into the study he wasn't supposed to have ever been in, but had actually visited numerous times. Bursting through the door, he made a beeline for the bookshelf. He scanned the shelves for the volume he already knew wouldn't be there.

"He…he's reading Dad's notes", he breathed. Self-control abandoned him as he fell to his knees and sobbed. He wept for the loss of his mother, he cried for his brother's madness, and he choked on the hope that everything would somehow be okay.