I said I had to have this out by Christmas time, and I did it! Can you guys believe I started this chapter on sep 12, 2022? It felt surreal looking at the date I made the first comment on the document...but I DID IT! And I have ideas again! And inspiration! I'M SO EXCITED! I really love this story and it's awesome to be working on it again :')

Anyway...in this chapter, we have a whole holiday themed vibe, just in time for Christmas...with an angsty twist of course. I hope you enjoy!

Ch 21: The Material World

December 21st dawns cold and cloudy, like any typical midwinter day. Snuggled in a pile of blankets, Edward is rudely awoken from a deep sleep by a familiar set of words.

"Get up, Brother! It's Solstice!"

A hand roughly shakes his shoulder, and Ed blinks blearily, eyes focusing on the gray blanket he'd pulled over his head sometime during the night. For a moment, as the words register in his mind, he feels just like he did last year on Solstice—and a rush of excitement causes him to toss his covers aside.

…Except when he does, he doesn't see the grinning, excitable face of his little brother standing at his bedside; instead, it's the towering suit of armor, and Ed's euphoria immediately sobers. He curses himself for daring to be excited, and a sour look settles on his face.

But Alphonse just laughs. "Gee, Brother, what's with the scowl? It's a holiday! You have to be happy on holidays! Come on!" Al shakes him again, and a strange feeling washes over Ed.

His memory returns again to last year. He and Al were here at the Rockbells, in their shared room upstairs, and Ed was buried in a pile of blankets not unlike this one. Al had shaken him awake by the shoulder (get up, Brother! It's Solstice!) and Ed had thrown his blankets aside as the words sank in. Then, they raced to Winry's room and woke her up, and then to Granny's room and woke her up. And then, they spent the day with their traditions, and had a great holiday.

He's not upstairs this year, and the brother waking him up looks nothing like the one he's known for ten years, and he can't run to wake up the rest of the family…but even so, it feels familiar. Ed looks back up at Al, who is clearly giddy in anticipation of the holiday; even with everything that's happened in the past five months, his little brother is the same person he's always been.

Maybe Ed should try to be the same person, too.

The eleven-year-old takes a deep breath, pushing away the rest of his blankets. For just a moment, he senses a slight damper in Al's mood, but the younger boy quickly perks up again.

"Granny and I made cinnamon rolls," Al says cheerfully. "Since I was up and had nothing to do, she insisted I help. I made the icing myself!"

Ed slips out of bed, stretching. Everything is still sore, a phenomenon he's beginning to think is just a permanent side effect of automail. He taps his metal foot against the floor a few times, trying to wake up the connected nerves. The other day, he finally got his first bit of movement out of his ankle, and is able to lower it slightly if he concentrates. He still finds it very difficult to raise it, but has learned a better way to compensate with what he can move while waiting for the rest to click. "That's cool, Al," he says once he feels stable.

Al nods enthusiastically. "She said I did a great job, but I hope you and Winry like it, too."

Ed offers a grin toward his brother. "I can't wait to try it. Go on ahead, I'll be there in a bit." He slips into the bathroom, and Al makes a noise of understanding. Once the sound of armored footsteps fades down the hall, Edward looks at the mirror, frowning. He runs his fingers through his hair, which is stringy with grease. Being stable on two legs, he's graduated from the bathtub to the shower, but it's still not exactly a pleasant experience. He used to love wasting time in the shower, and always found it to be a nice, stress-relieving event. He hopes it can get to be like that again at some point, but for now, it's just too tedious. There are a bunch of things he has to do to properly clean the skin near his ports (which Pinako had to explain step by step from the other side of the shower curtain the first few times). Then, after showering, there's a whole other process required to make sure anything metal is properly dried, to prevent rust and malfunction. It's exhausting, so as a result, he puts it off as much as he can.

But it is a holiday, so he supposes he should be as presentable as possible.

Ed takes his time in the shower, a sense of dread slowly building in him at the thought of the day to come. No matter how much he tries to think positively, to remind himself that everyone is the same as they've always been, he can't do it—because they're not the same. Winry and Granny have a side he's only seen directed at their patients, and now it's being directed at him…because he is one of their patients. It's crazy to think about, but he's been living with half of his limbs for five months now. And Al…Al has been stuck as a bodiless soul for just as long.

How does he do it? How does he stay so positive, and act like nothing's changed? Ed thinks back to his conversation with Al the week after surgery, when the younger boy vented his fears. He said he stays positive because they both need it; Alphonse wouldn't be himself if he didn't think the best of the world, and Edward wouldn't be himself if he didn't rely on that positivity every now and then. It's Al's nature to see the good in life.

Sometimes Ed wonders if it ever feels like a facade.

The eleven-year-old shakes himself out of his thoughts, finishing rinsing out his hair. It's not a facade; I just don't understand…But even still, I don't know if I could be so happy in his shoes…

Ed turns off the water, which had been on for so long it ran cold without him noticing. He sighs as he grabs his towel, trying to force away his dour mood. After all, Solstice is Al's favorite holiday, and the last thing he wants to do is ruin it.

Ed dries off and dresses as quickly as he can (which, given the ridiculous—but necessary, boy, don't you dare skip out on it!—routine that Granny drilled into his mind, still isn't very fast). He's nearly an expert at dressing one-handed now, but since he hasn't been awake for very long, his automail is being finicky and the foot keeps catching against his pant leg because of his mediocre control of the ankle. Once that ordeal is complete, he makes his way to the main house to properly greet the family. As Al promised, the scent of cinnamon rolls floats in the air, and Ed suddenly realizes how hungry he is.

Winry is at the dining table, and Granny and Al's voices are echoing from the kitchen. Ed zeroes in on the pan of cinnamon rolls sitting on the table, and he beelines toward it.

"Happy Solstice!" Winry chirps around a mouthful of pastry.

"Eating breakfast without me?" Ed teases as he takes a seat at the table.

"I was hungry," she replies, smiling. "It's not my fault you took so long to get down here."

"And it's not my fault it takes me so long to get ready!"

As soon as the words leave his tongue, Ed realizes his mistake. It is his fault. It's all his fault. He cringes; there's no way Winry didn't catch the slip-up, but she says nothing. He chances a look at her, noticing how she quickly averts her stare. Despite himself, he's grateful; the last thing he wants to see right now are those big blue eyes pitying him.

After a beat, Winry clears her throat. "...Are you gonna eat?"

"Oh. Yeah," he says, cursing the sudden hoarseness of his voice. He picks a cinnamon roll from the pan, trying to ignore the awkward tension between him and Winry. Luckily, that's when Granny and Al return from the kitchen.

"Oh!" Al exclaims. "You're here! How's the cinnamon roll?"

Ed stabs the pastry with his fork, taking a bite. The sugary sweetness coats his tongue, and he can tell the icing is different than usual: thinner and sweeter. "It's great," he says.

Despite his expressionless face, Al seems to beam in pride. "Yay! I can't wait for dinner later!"

Ed smiles at his brother, even though he doesn't feel like smiling.

"Speaking of, I'm making my usual turkey as the entree," Pinako adds lightly, munching on her own cinnamon roll. "Did you two decide what you're making?" she asks the eleven-year-olds.

"Snickerdoodles!" Winry chirps.

"Uhh…" Ed pauses; he hadn't actually thought much about it, too focused on other things. "Mashed potatoes?" It wasn't supposed to be a question.

Pinako raises an eyebrow but says nothing. "Okay. I'll double check the pantry and run to town for whatever we don't have—and get some matches. I'll start the turkey around two, and you three can start the rest around four—that way it'll all be done by six." She takes another bite. "That gives you about five hours to do whatever…but, Ed, I want a couple of those hours to be training with Winry."

Ed frowns. "It's a holiday."

"Rehab doesn't stop for holidays."

Ed's frown doesn't let up, and Winry pipes in. "C'mon, just for a while. It'll be fun!"

"I highly doubt it," he replies. "You're sadistic."

"It's only the Rockbell way." Winry smiles smugly.

Ed finishes his cinnamon roll, reaching for another. "What's Al gonna do while we work? It's his holiday too."

"It's alright, Brother," Al says. "I'm gonna decorate while you're doing rehab. I'm tall enough to hang things now!"

Resigned to his fate, Ed sighs and wolfs down his second cinnamon roll, following Winry out of the kitchen once he's done.

By the time he makes it to the physical therapy room, Winry is already set up and waiting for him. He follows her directions absently, listening to the faint metallic pounding of his brother on the other side of the house as he works. He wonders if he'll ever truly get used to that sound…and what about Al? Al has to live in there, with all the foreign noise and missing sensations. Will he ever be able to get used to it? Ed silently hopes he'll be able to fix things before Al even has the chance to.

"You're distracted," Winry says, forcing Ed's attention toward her.

"No I'm not," he says.

"Yeah, you are. What's on your mind?"

Edward glares at her, annoyed how perceptive she is. "Just thinking how I'd rather be celebrating Solstice than in here with you."

Winry glares back. "Yeah, right. I'm not that dumb, Ed. I've known you forever; I can tell when something's bothering you."

"It's not important."

"I bet it is."

"If I keep thinking about it, it'll ruin the holiday, okay? So stop asking."

"But I want to know. Just tell me. We both know it'll be better that way."

"I don't wanna talk about it. Let it go. It's seriously going to ruin things for Al."

Winry turns her nose up slightly. "Hm. Well we wouldn't want that, would we? But I'm not going to just drop it, you know. I'll figure it out sooner or later."

"You can try," he replies stiffly. Why doesn't she understand? He's trying to forget about it for the sake of the holiday. Doesn't she want to have a nice Solstice?

Winry orders him to the stool. "Extend your leg." He does, only having to think for a moment before the machine listens. "Now lift your foot." This movement takes a lot more concentration, but he forces the ankle half-upright. Even though he still hasn't been able to fully connect with that joint, Granny reiterated it's nothing to worry about; fine motor skills are the most difficult thing to master, and rotating one's ankle requires more fine movement than bending one's knee. She said that the more intricate the automail gets, the more work it's going to take to control it, and he's doing a really good job so far.

In fact, it's honestly kind of freaky how second-nature moving automail is becoming. He knows it won't last forever, since, like Pinako said, it's bound to become difficult again next time he gets a new piece to control; but right now, watching himself bend the knee and ankle is almost eerie. He can't feel it, but he's in control of it. At least with alchemy, he can feel the energy being transferred between himself, the earth, and the object of the transmutation. It helps a lot to think of automail scientifically, but it's still not exactly the same.

Winry has him repeat these motions a few times, watching his expression carefully. She wants to be focused on his automail—like a good, impartial mechanic—but something is very obviously bothering him, and she knows he's not going to tell her what it is. If she has to guess, it's about Alphonse…It's always about Alphonse. Even before all this happened, it was always about Alphonse.

She supposes it could be any number of things relating to their current situation. The severe depression they saw before that soldier visited has, for the most part, disappeared. Winry no longer gets the sense that Ed feels like giving up…but he's still susceptible to bouts of crippling guilt every once in a while. He's always been like that, tending to over-blow the seriousness of his own mistakes and take the blame for other people's. And, sometimes, he'll let something slip that hints at just how responsible he still feels for Al's current state, when he'd normally pretend everything is fine.

This definitely feels like one of those times.

Winry wants to talk about it, but she thinks back to what he said: If I keep thinking about it, it'll ruin the holiday, okay? After that tension at breakfast, maybe the best course of action is to just listen to him…well, for now. She'll step in if she has to, of course.

So, the two finish their work, stopping a little before the length of time Granny had suggested (because as much as Winry loves working with automail, it is a big holiday, and she's excited for the festivities to begin). When they return to the main house, the fireplace in the living room has been strung with evergreen garland, and the Rockbells' heirloom wreath has been hung on the wall. Both Al and Granny are reading now, Al on the floor and Granny in her rocker.

"You're done early," Pinako says with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Are we?" Winry replies with an equally mischievous glint. "Ed was doing so well, I thought it wouldn't matter."

"So he's finally gotten a handle on his ankle?"

Winry smiles innocently. "More or less."

Pinako looks at Ed, who puts on an equally innocent face. "Really? That's impressive, considering how it was yesterday. Show me."

Both kids' smiles falter a little.

Pinako laughs. "I know you two are bluffing…But alright, I'll allow a quick session just this once. As long as you promise you'll work extra hard tomorrow." She winks.

After a shared sigh of relief, Ed and Winry ask Al what he wants to do.

Al looks up from his book, thoughtful. "Ummm…" He gasps a little as an idea clicks. "Brother, remember when Mom showed us how to make paper snowflakes?"

Slightly taken aback, Ed nods.

"Do you think we could try making more? It was really fun—and it'll add to the decorations!"

Well, at least it's something Al can actually participate in, Ed thinks. Myself…We'll see. "Sure. Sounds fun."

For just a moment, Winry looks at Ed, clearly having the same train of thought as him. But Ed just nods ever so slightly, telling her I know, but it's what Al wants to do. Winry nods back and leaves to fetch some coffee filters and scissors, dumping it all on the table when she returns.

The eleven-year-olds sit in their usual chairs while Al kneels beside the table, and they each collect a pair of scissors and a filter.

Once Ed has his supplies, he pauses, trying to think of the best way to use them. He folds the filter in half a few times without much issue, but it's cutting shapes into it that has him perplexed. He sits there for a minute, holding the scissors, while Al is happily snipping away. Ed glances at him, wondering if he's noticed the older boy hasn't done anything yet. But Al is intently focused on his work (probably to ensure he's cutting the paper accurately) and Ed looks away again.

A minute later, Al finishes his snowflake, unfolding it to reveal the design. It's not perfect, but he's honestly impressed; he can't imagine doing something this intricate a couple months ago. He looks up, excited to see Ed's work—and he suddenly realizes the problem. "Oh—Brother…I—" the ten-year-old stammers. Ed tenses, looking like a deer caught in headlights as he subtly tries to hide his uncut filter from view. But it's too late; Al already saw it. "I wasn't even thinking about—I'm really sorry. I-I should've picked a different activity." Al hangs his head apologetically.

"S'not a big deal," Ed says quickly. "Keep making them. We need more decorations."

"But…"

"Seriously, Al. Don't feel bad. I mean it." After all, you have no reason to apologize to me…Not when it's my own fault. "I'll just…um…" Ed looks around before slipping his paper off the table and looking at his feet. He sighs a little and pulls his right leg up onto the chair, slipping the edge of the folded filter between his toes and chopping haphazard triangles into it. He looks up at Al, smiling cautiously. "See, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Al asks, not quite convinced.

"Of course." Ed cuts another triangle. Stay positive. Don't ruin the holiday.

"Okay…" Al finally says, picking up another coffee filter.

Once Al is refocused, Winry glances at Ed—but he pretends not to notice, instead trying to appear absorbed in his work. He snips a few notches into the outer edge of the paper and sets the scissors down, ready to unfold it. He does, and is immediately disappointed; it's the ugliest snowflake he could've possibly made, the diamond shapes inside all uneven and awkwardly spaced. Looking at it almost makes him want to cry, and he's completely taken aback by the reaction.

What the hell…Why would something so stupid upset me? There's literally no reason. I'm going to be a State Alchemist, for God's sake. I can't be upset by such childish, trivial things. I'm tougher than that.

"Is yours done, Ed?" Al asks, forcibly pulling Ed from his thoughts before he can spiral.

Ed stares at his snowflake for a moment; he really doesn't want to show it to them. So, guiltily, he holds its edge down with his foot and pulls, tearing it. "Ah, dammit—" he holds up the third of the filter still in his hand. "I had it pinned with my foot and it tore when I tried opening it."

Al and Winry look at him, and it feels like they're—especially Winry—looking right through him.

"It wasn't that good, anyway," Ed adds, hoping they'll buy it. "I've never been good with scissors. Don't worry about it." He laughs, albeit with a bit of a nervous edge.

Al and Winry continue staring.

"You guys keep working. I'm gonna…see if Granny needs any help with the turkey." Ed crumples up the other piece of his snowflake, setting it on the table.

"Brother…" Al drifts off.

"Don't go," Winry says quietly.

"Don't worry about it," Ed repeats, getting up and leaving before either of the others can comment further.

…

When he walks into the living room, he can hear Pinako in the kitchen, presumably preparing the turkey. He's glad, because he had no actual intention of going to her. She'll just ask him why he abandoned his brother and Winry, and try to convince him to go back. So instead, he walks to the fireplace, now ablaze with a sweet-smelling log, and sits down.

He pulls his knees to his chest, resting his chin on top and wrapping his arm around them. As he watches the flames, his mind resumes wandering as it had in the shower.

Why has everything been so off today? He's been doing fine lately; motivated and even proud of his progress. What happened to make all his doubt and guilt come back so strong? It's almost like a cycle—always in the back of his mind, ready to surface and beat down his positivity. He wants to enjoy the day, because it's been a good day. Nothing has happened that was bad enough to warrant his feelings. Alphonse and Winry clearly want him to enjoy the day, too. But Ed's mind is just stuck, because all he can think about is how different things should be—especially for Al. Yet at the exact same time, he knows Al would be mad at him for thinking like this…But he just can't force himself out of the cycle.

He wonders if it's going to be like this forever.

Meanwhile, in the living room doorway, Pinako is leaning against the wall, watching Edward. She'd heard his distinct footsteps walk by while working on her turkey, and paused to see what he was up to. She wasn't expecting to see him, alone, sitting in front of the fire. His posture is curled with tension, and even though she can't see his face, she imagines it looks the same.

She can guess why; he's been a little off all day, despite clearly trying to mask it with forced cheeriness. Edward has never been very good at staving off negativity, and tends to retreat into himself and stew in his mood—until Alphonse or Winry or even Pinako herself finally snap and force him out of it. Sometimes he's able to pull himself out on his own or with some gentle suggestion, but it's not guaranteed.

In a way, she understands why he's so obviously struggling; she never would have expected this Solstice to be laden with automail rehabilitation for one Elric and the inability to partake in a good chunk of festivities for the other. But it's also clear that Alphonse and Winry went into the holiday as if it were the same as any before, and Pinako is worried that Ed's inability to see it that way is going to end up dragging the other children down.

After a few more minutes with no sign of movement, Pinako sighs and enters the living room. "Whatcha doing, Sprout?" she asks, physically startling the boy.

Edward looks back at her, shrugging after a moment. "Cold."

Pinako tilts her head skeptically; he's not pale or shivering, and hasn't been the entire time she's observed him. If anything, he's probably hot, sitting so close to the fire for over ten minutes. "You look pretty warm to me," she remarks.

He shrugs again, returning his attention to the fire. "I was cold."

"What're Al and Winry doing?"

Ed looks at his feet. "Crafts."

"Are you going to rejoin them, since you're not cold anymore?"

Ed shrugs a third time.

Pinako sighs; he's not making this easy. "Well, you shouldn't stay by the fire too long. Extreme temperatures aren't good for your automail."

Ed doesn't respond, and Pinako returns to her turkey. It definitely seems like it's one of those difficult days…

Close to half an hour later, she finally hears him get up and walk away…but not back toward the dining room. Instead, his footsteps fade off toward his room, and Pinako exhales exasperatedly.

Barely a minute later, Winry comes into the kitchen, holding a stack of paper snowflakes. She does a double-take, looking confused. "Where's Ed?"

"His room, I'm assuming," Pinako replies, sticking a thermometer in the turkey.

"He said he was coming to help with the turkey." The girl sighs exasperatedly. "I know he was upset about the snowflakes, but he's not helping matters by running off."

"That's what happened? The way he was staring at the fire, I thought the world was ending."

"Well, I dunno if that's all…he's being weird today, and I swear he thinks we haven't noticed. But leaving to try and hide it just makes it more obvious." Winry purses her lips for a moment. "I'm gonna go hang some of these in the practice," she says resolutely, and Pinako hears the unspoken meaning. I'm going to go talk to him.

Pinako gives her a sympathetic glance before returning her attention to the meal. Good luck with that.

Another minute passes before Alphonse makes an appearance in the kitchen, sticking his head in the doorway. "Winry, I hung up all of—oh."

Pinako almost chuckles at how each grandchild managed to barely miss each other. "She's hanging her decorations in the patients' ward."

"Oh, okay…Where's my brother?"

"With her, as far as I know." Pinako feels a little guilty not telling the whole truth, but Al seems physically relieved by her words.

"Oh. Good. I felt really bad about asking him to make snowflakes, cause I wasn't thinking about how it would be hard for him. I was worried he was mad at me."

Ah. So that's what Winry was talking about. "I don't think he's upset with you, Al," Pinako replies. She glances at the clock above the oven. "It's a little early, but why don't you start working on dinner? Ed and Winry shouldn't be long."

Al looks at the clock himself; it's not even three-thirty. "Will it still all get done around the same time?"

"It should. You wanted to try making my eggnog, didn't you? Let's look for the recipe."

…

It takes close to ten minutes, but Edward and Winry eventually return to the main house. When they enter the kitchen, Alphonse is at the counter, hunched over a collection of papers and reading intently.

"Hey Granny, it has brandy as one of the ingredients. Is that right?" Al asks.

Huh? Brandy? Like alcohol? "Whatcha looking at, Al?" Winry asks, curious what she and Ed walked in on.

Al looks over at them. "Oh, there you guys are. I wanted to try making eggnog this year as our special drink, but Granny's recipe has brandy in it." He turns his head back toward said woman. "Is that right?" he repeats.

Pinako snickers, and Winry looks at her. "The eggnog is alcoholic? Has it always been?"

Pinako ignores her, snickering again. "Yes, Al, that's right. But don't use a third of a cup. Use an eighth." All three kids stare at her. "What? It's for taste! And I've given all of you more than that in your tea when you're sick…Now come on, get cracking on your dishes." Winry and Ed blink at her, and she laughs again.

Winry shakes her head. "Well…let's get started."

Two hours later, and most of the meal is complete. There was a small hiccup as Al made the eggnog and Ed saw the jar of heavy cream on the counter. He completely lost his mind, cursing Pinako for keeping the recipe a secret (and thus, just how much of the eggnog was not actually "egg"). Winry yelled that he'd always liked it before, and it was ridiculous to stop liking it now, while Alphonse watched with a somehow exasperated expression. Finally, with much grumbling, Edward accepted his glass, and Winry went to set the table.

For just a moment, Winry hovers by Al's seat, almost habitually setting a placemat there (despite not having actually eaten with him since August). She quickly moves on, hoping none of the others noticed. Luckily (especially for Ed's sake) they seem too preoccupied in the kitchen, serving themselves food. Winry returns to fill her own plate before all four of them sit at the table.

And stop.

One of their Solstice traditions involves giving thanks for the year. They don't do so often (at least not formally), so the holiday has always been a day they take a moment to reflect, as well as to honor the members of their families who aren't there. It's one of the sillier traditions, in Ed's eyes, but it is important. Just because he finds it sort of awkward doesn't mean he thinks it's wrong to call attention to the things he's grateful for, or to remember their lost loved ones. He doesn't usually say as much (usually just agreeing with whatever the others say) but he always tries to mention something.

But right now, his mind is a complete blank—and it seems like everyone else's are too.

"Should…should we give thanks?" Winry asks quietly.

After a tense beat, Alphonse answers. "Of course we should." His voice starts out shaky, but quickly gains confidence. "I…want to give thanks because we're all alive, and here celebrating Solstice. Even if it's not quite the holiday we were imagining, that's what's most important." He looks at Winry, so she'll continue.

"...I second that," Winry chimes in. "I'm thankful that Ed and Al and Grandma are all still here to celebrate." She looks at Pinako.

"I am too," Pinako adds. "And I also want to give thanks for those who aren't here with us in person, but always in spirit. Victor, Yuriy, Sarah, and Trisha: you're always in our hearts." She looks at Ed.

"I…" Ed trails off, stuck on Pinako's addition. It's the same thing she's said every year since their deaths, but it strikes him differently this time. Trisha…Mom…she was supposed to be here. He looks at Alphonse. But she's not…and he isn't really here, either. Hell, I'm not even all here. And it's all because of my stupid actions.

Edward swallows, and tries again. "I…" Push past it. They're waiting. He furrows his brow, looking at the table. "I…"

…Mom…Al…

"I…I'm s-sorry," Ed stammers, and the other three stare at him. "I…can't."

"Ed?" Winry asks, sadness palpable in her voice.

Don't ruin the holiday. Don't…but I already did, didn't I?

"Brother. It's okay," Al says, sensing Ed's building turmoil.

But it's too late.

"Okay?" Ed asks, his voice tight. For a moment, everything stands still, and Ed's lip trembles. Suddenly, all the anger and frustration he'd been pushing away rushes to the surface. "Okay? Okay? What…what about this is okay?! How can I be thankful to be alive when it's my fault that you're not? That Mom's not? I was trying so hard not to ruin things, but I guess I just can't stop it! Look at me, ruining Solstice just like I ruined everything else in my life—but not just my life; your life and Mom's life and Winry's and Granny's and everyone else's!"

"Shut up!"

A heavy leather fist smashes against the table, and Ed is silenced. All anyone can do is watch as Al hastily stands, rattling with anger—and hurt, oh God, not hurt. He clenches his hands, tears evident in his voice. "I'm not dead and Mom was both of our faults, and all I wanted was to have a happy Solstice! I was trying so hard, Ed, but you were just too busy thinking everything's your fault to even try and have a good day!"

No…I was trying not to ruin things… Edward swallows. "I wasn't—"

"You think it wasn't obvious? That I couldn't tell you were trying to act 'normal'? You wouldn't even give me and Winry a chance!"

"Al…"

"Not now. I don't want to hear it right now." And with that, Alphonse leaves the dining room, and goes right out the front door.

Ed looks desperately at Pinako, but her only reaction is to stand and say two simple words before going after the ten-year-old. "Fix it."

And then, it's just Ed and Winry left at the table, the tension so thick it's practically crushing Ed's lungs. The boy fully expects Winry to start screaming at him, but when she breaks the silence, her words are quiet—and somehow, that makes his blood freeze even worse with dread.

"You know, when I said this morning that it'd be better if you told me what was bothering you, I wasn't kidding. Every time you bottle things up like this, it just blows up in your face—and Al's."

Ed looks at his plate. "I know I shouldn't have yelled. But everything I said is still true..."

"Is it? My life's not ruined. And if you were gonna ruin it, I think you would've done it by now. You're an idiot."

Ed scowls at the insult but doesn't address it, instead continuing on. "What about Al's life?"

Winry rolls her eyes. "I know you have some kind of older sibling complex, but Al's not bound to you. He can make his own choices, and things aren't always your fault."

"This is."

"That's not what he said."

"I still feel like I failed him."

"That's obvious."

"I really was trying, Winry. I didn't want to ruin the day."

"Were you?" Ed looks at her, but her expression is dead serious. "Cause to us, it just looked like you were isolating yourself. What was it? Giving thanks? Rehab? The snowflakes?"

"No. I'm…I'm frustrated with myself but in the end, it doesn't matter what I can or can't do. It's what Al can't do."

"Hasn't Al already talked about that? He's accepted it. So why can't you?"

Edward stays silent for a minute. Thinking he's not going to answer, Winry prepares to barrage him until he's forced to—but to her surprise, he speaks before she can begin.

"Because even if he says it's not my fault, I still feel like it is. It's like…every time I think I can get past it, it comes back, and I believe it. I don't want to disregard his words…It's just like I…can't accept it. No matter how many times you guys say it. I don't know…if I ever will…At least not until I can fix it."

Winry was not expecting that kind of admission; the last time he spoke this candidly, it was in the middle of surgery. She doesn't think it's right for him to hold on to that kind of guilt, but she's also known the whole time that he still feels that way. She's known it from his earliest half-lucid moments, questioning if he could even be upset about his limbs when Al lost everything. And honestly…she's not even sure what could help him accept things, if nothing that's happened so far has been able to. Maybe it's not possible…and if it is, Ed is the only one who can make it happen. Maybe all she can do—all Al can do—is keep trying.

"Well…" Winry starts. "Even still, it's not all bad. Al has been making the most of life. And…running away from us because you 'don't want to ruin things' doesn't help. It does the opposite, really. It's…selfish, Ed. Because hurting us in some kind of attempt to avoid hurting us doesn't fix anything—and it doesn't make your own hurt any better, either."

Edward sits still for another minute, seemingly receptive to the words despite the scolding within them. Finally, he huffs out his nose, smirking humorlessly with his eyes still trained on the table. "Geez. That was so sappy."

Winry blinks. "Wh—what do you mean, sappy?! That's how I feel—and it's all true! You're not immune to hurt just cause you're the oldest, or cause you're a boy! You're so stupid! Did you even hear anything I s—"

"Thanks."

Winry falls silent, mouth agape. She can only watch as Edward gets up, and walks toward the front door.

…

When Edward steps onto the front porch, Alphonse is alone, having apparently pushed Pinako away, too. He's sitting on the last step, staring ahead, with something held tensely in his hands. When Ed gets closer, he realizes it's his crumpled up, torn snowflake.

Ed doesn't say anything as he approaches, just stops at the top stair and waits. He stands there uneasily for a moment, not sure if he should speak first. Al makes the decision for him.

"You left it on the table." Al says, lifting the paper slightly. "You weren't going to show us, so I took it."

Ed shifts, unsure how or if he should respond.

"You said it wasn't good, but I don't get why it matters," Al continues. "It doesn't have to be. It was just supposed to be fun."

Ed still doesn't reply, and Alphonse finally turns to face him.

"I understand how frustrating it must be to struggle with things we used to do, and I'm still sorry for not considering how that difficulty would make you feel. But…I don't get why you just pretend like everything's okay when it's obviously not. And why…why you ignore our attempts to help."

Ed sighs a little. "I didn't think I was…I thought…it'd be better if I just left."

Al looks at the snowflake again. "This isn't even what you were really upset about, is it? Something was off the moment I woke you up."

Ed averts his gaze, not wanting to look at his brother. He shrugs vaguely, and Al mimics a sigh. "It's…me… Isn't it?"

Ed doesn't reply, but the guilty look in his eyes is answer enough.

"Didn't I already tell you that spending time with my family is what's most important to me? Not the food or gifts?"

Ed forces himself to look at Al for a moment. "Yeah, but…there's nothing you're upset about?"

Al pauses, collecting his thoughts. "...I'm not going to lie and say I don't wish I could participate in everything, but honestly, the only thing that's really been upsetting me today is you."

Ed looks a little hurt by the comment, but he has nothing to say in defense of himself.

"Why…why isn't spending time with your family enough?" Al asks.

"It is," Ed says quickly.

"It doesn't feel like it. You were pushing us away."

"Not because of you. It…It's me, Al." For a moment, Ed feels tears in his eyes, but he closes them quickly. "All I could think about was how different things should be…like they were before. And I—I let it control me. I…don't have an excuse."

Al is still for a moment, thinking. "...How it 'should be'? I…I know we never expected saving Mom to turn out like it did, but just because everything is different now doesn't mean we can't look for the bright side. It's hard sometimes, and it's sad sometimes, and it's frustrating sometimes…I'm not going to pretend like I haven't struggled with all of it. But we're moving forward, no matter what. It isn't going to be how it was 'before', because we can't change what happened, no matter how much regret we feel. And I really meant what I said during thanks. Material things aren't what make the holiday important. It's about being together…and we're all we have left."

All we have left… It doesn't matter how many times Alphonse shows wisdom and empathy beyond his years; Edward will always be blown away by it. And every single time, he'll be left wondering what he could've possibly done to be given such an incredible younger brother. He sure as hell doesn't feel like he deserves it…

"...I know," Ed says quietly. "I know. I'm so sorry for how I acted today. We promised to look toward the future…not be stuck in the past."

Alphonse nods. "The past is there to remind us where we're going, but it's no use dwelling on what can't be changed. But…" He shifts uncomfortably. "...it's hard for you, isn't it? Not to get stuck on it?"

Ed freezes, wondering what kind of expression he could've been wearing to make his feelings so transparent. That, or Al just knows him too well.

"I think I've realized that in the past few months…" Al continues. "And it's kind of surprising I never noticed before…It's hard for me too, sometimes. Not to dwell, I mean. I guess…that's why we wanted Mom back so badly, isn't it? That's the reason for me, at least, but I only really started to think about it after it all went wrong. I know I've always been more 'positive' than you, but it's this realization that's made me really want to ensure I stay that way. For you…but for me, too."

And Edward is blown away once more, because Al is right. Not just right, but spot on. Dwelling on the past has always been an issue for him, as much as he'd love to deny it. But to hear Al struggles with it, too, and is using it as motivation to be better… Just when Ed thought he couldn't be any prouder of his brother, he's proven wrong yet again. Alphonse really is the best person Ed knows, and he wishes he could be a fraction of the future man Al is bound to be. For a moment, he struggles to put his thoughts into words, but there's nothing he can say that could accurately convey how he feels. All he ends up getting out is: "Al, you're amazing, you know that?"

But because Al knows him so well, he can hear all the pride and gratitude and remorse behind Ed's words. His glowing eyes soften, and any of the remaining tension between them dissipates. "I forgive you, Brother."

Ed smiles sheepishly. "I know there's not much of the day left…but will you let me try to make up for lost time?"

Al seems to smile back. "I'd be happy to."

So they do. Alphonse retrieves Winry and Pinako, and with his clear contentedness, the four return to their meal. It's not as hot as it was, but it tastes just as good. Then, when they're done eating, they sit by the fireplace (Winry's plate of cookies up for grabs between them) and listen to Pinako read a classic holiday legend. It's something they haven't done in years, and something the three kids thought they'd outgrown…but tonight, there's just something comforting about it that they can't deny themselves. Then, Pinako leaves to clean the kitchen while the kids put out the fire—and once the flames are out, they pop in to say goodnight to her, Winry heading upstairs and the Elrics to the medical wing.

Before heading to bed herself, Pinako returns to the living room to make sure everything is in order—and something catches her eye. She can't help but smile; several of the kids' paper snowflakes have been moved from the hall to the mantle, including one she hasn't seen yet, torn and fixed with tape.

that image of the fixed snowflake was stuck in my mind the moment he tore it, and I knew it had to be the ending to the chapter. Wholesomeness! And did I myself make a snowflake with that method? No, of course not. Never...

I was kinda worried about Ed's regression here, given his epiphany in ch 17, and that you guys might think I forgot about his character development...But in the end, that IS how this stuff works. Ed's guilt and trauma would not be something that can just be rid of because he had a big realization and made some progress. Even four years later in the show, it's obvious he still feels extremely guilty about Al and his mom—and takes on guilt easily, like with Nina and Hughes and using philosopher's stones. Mental progress is not all uphill—there are plateaus and valleys on the path, and its unrealistic to think Ed wouldn't have times when it gets worse again—AND he's only eleven!

...I've thought a lot about this lol

Anywaaaay...next time (I have it planned out, but not completely written) we have the elrics and rockbells first re-exposure to outsiders and all that entails. See you then!