Archive of Our Own

The first month had been a blur. A flurry of highs and lows, of emotions and new experiences for the first time in five years. The second month had shown a steady plateau. No progress, but thankfully no decline either. Month three welcomed in the closing act of summer and a steady but noticeable decline in the health of Alphonse Elric’s newly regained body.

Ed was panicked. There was no other way to describe it. And there was no way to brush his emotions under the rug as he so often did because now the panic seeped into everything he did these days. Pestering the cadre of doctors assigned to Al’s peculiar case did nothing. They would just consult their charts with a look of concern pinching their brows and tell Ed there was nothing to do but wait and watch for improvement. After all, there was no precedent for having regained one’s body back after five years of idleness in a place that may or may not truly exist. Ed tried to keep in mind that the doctors were doing everything they knew how, but there was only so much that could be done for a case that had never—and would never again—been seen. Even so, his frustration—desperation—grew worse every day as Al grew weaker, and Winry or even Al with his quiet, soft, weak voice, would have to plead with Ed not to take his aggravations out on the poor hospital staff.

Dr. Caldwell had been receiving the brunt of Ed’s wrath, and this afternoon had been the tipping point.

After Alphonse’s latest test results had come back, the doctor had pulled Ed out of the room and into a quiet corner of the hallway. Ed had been emancipated since he had joined the military, and being Alphonse's next of kin was also his appointed legal guardian. Meaning he heard all of Alphonse’s results before anyone else, Al included. It had never mattered in the five years prior, but now this title felt like both a blessing and a curse.

Ed had a terrible feeling of dread surrounding his stomach from the concerned look on the doctor’s face. When the man shook his head with a sigh, eyes focused on his clipboard rather than Ed’s gaze, Ed felt his stomach drop three stories down into the ground.

“What is it?” he asked, ready to throttle the doctor if he didn’t just come out and tell him.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Elric. Alphonse’s health is beginning to decline at a more rapid rate. His body just can’t survive any longer, it’s beginning to shut down....”

The doctor continued on, using impersonal medical jargon to explain the simple and unspoken fact: Alphonse was dying. A ringing began in Ed’s ears as the blood rushed to his head. His baby brother was dying. And it was all his fault. If he had never forced Al to bring their mom back—if it hadn’t taken him five years to get him back to normal—dammit. Dammit.

Ed hadn’t realized that his hands had reflexively pulled into fists and his arms were shaking with unspent energy and rage until the doctor stopped his explanation.

“Mr. Elric?”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Ed ground out through his teeth, not even looking at the doctor who couldn’t—wouldn’t—save Al’s life.

“I’m sorry, but we’ve tried everything we can. Your brother’s case is...ah, unprecedented. We’ve done all we are capable of, but your brother’s body just continues to decline regardless of our courses of action. I’m sure all these treatments have been hard on him in his weakened state as well.” He shifted and pulled free a few brochures from the clipboard. “I went ahead and took the liberty of retrieving you some information on hospice care.”

“So you’re just giving up on him?”

Ed knew his voice was rising and he was causing a scene for the few nurses and orderlies walking down the hallway, but he didn’t care. Dammit, let the whole world know.

The doctor held up his hands in a placating gesture. Ed wanted to smack those stupid pamphlets out of the air for daring to even be associated with his little brother.

“We’re not giving up. But under the circumstances, I believe this may the best way to proceed. Of course, he can stay here and we can continue to run tests and continue treatments, but I think your brother would prefer to spend his last days in comfort, not wasting his energy on unhelpful tests.”

Ed grabbed the pamphlets out of the doctor’s hand and ripped them in a single motion. They fluttered to the ground as he shouted, “Shut up! He’s not going to die!”

“Mr. Elric I understand—”

“No, you don’t! Shut up. He’s not going to. I just got him back! I just got him back, dammit! You can’t just give up on him!”

The doctor sighed, his shoulders hunching forward in defeat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Elric. I understand this is upsetting news. I can come back later. We can discuss this more when you’ve had time to process this.” With that, the doctor gave one more concerned look at Edward and the pamphlets then sped down the hall.

Ed watched him go for just a moment, seething before he let out a sound of frustration. He reeled back before he even knew what he was doing and slammed his fist into the dingy white wall of the hallway.

“Edward!”

The pain in his knuckles registered then as Winry’s voice met his ears, clear as a bell.

He pulled his throbbing hand in as she hurried over to him.

“What was that about?” she asked, glancing worriedly from him to down the hall where Dr. Caldwell’s receding figure finally turned the corner.

She startled and halted when she caught the look on Ed’s face. It was only then that Ed noticed the tears already sliding down his cheeks “What’s wrong?” she urged. Her eyes began to well with foreboding tears.

“He’s not going to die,” Ed choked. Voice hoarse and soft and pleading. “He’s not going to. I just got him back. I just fixed this, Winry.”

He collapsed into her arms, sobbing openly for the first time since the day Alphonse had returned to flesh and blood, this time without any of the joy or triumph. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and clung to her with his left arm, his right was useless, swelling, and most likely broken. He barely noticed the pain.

Winry just held him close, surprised by the sudden display of emotion from the boy who was known for bottling everything up. “Shhh,” she comforted, and Ed didn’t feel better in the slightest, but he felt safe in her arms, safe as he had in his mother’s after a nightmare.

“I just got him back. He can’t die.” He repeated the sentiment over and over, voice pathetic and hoarse and weak, just as Al’s had become in the last few weeks.

“I know, I know,” Winry murmured, a soothing hand in his hair. “Al isn’t one to give up. So you can’t either.”

“I just want us to go home.”

Winry remained silent. He knew she was taking in the scene, seeing the pamphlets strewn on the floor and coming to her own conclusions. She squeezed him tighter, like her hands alone could heal this tragedy. Her hands could heal most things; they had healed him time and time again, but now, they were as useless as his. “Then let’s go home,” she said softly. “Let’s all go home.”

Ed sat in his usual spot, in the chair permanently settled at Alphonse’s bedside. He sat there in the darkness of the room, Al’s blanketed form only visible from the sliver of light cast from the moon and stars outside.

Ed’s thumb rubbed softly against the back of Al’s hand. Even three months after getting his body back, Al was still amazed by his sense of touch. Even after the number of needles stuck into him, the blood drawn, the medications pumped in, he still smiled at the thrill of touch and sensations. He would take Ed’s hand with his own or ask to braid his brother’s hair any chance he could. So that was how the brothers ended up most nights. Hands clasped gently together as Al fell into blissful sleep, and Ed would watch him sleep from his bedside sentinel until sleep claimed him too, and he would wake up still in the chair, hand in Al’s and a crick in his neck.

His thoughts refused to drift from the conversation he had had with Dr. Caldwell that afternoon. He had yet to tell Alphonse the news and had threatened Caldwell not to tell him yet either. Ed couldn’t bear to tell his brother what the doctor had said. Not when Ed was refusing to give in so easily. Not when he was the reason Alphonse was...

Ed dispelled that train of thought with a shake of his head. He didn’t want to think about that. Alphonse knew something was up; Ed had been more melancholy than usual that evening, but at least he hadn’t cried since his breakdown in front of Winry. Alphonse had eyed the bandaging on Ed’s hand expectantly but Ed had ignored the unspoken question.

Maybe Al deserved to know what the doctor said. No, he definitely deserved to know. It was his body and his life. But Ed couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear to see the serene look on his brother’s face be replaced with misery and trepidation, just waiting to die. Maybe that was selfish, but Al’s moments of happiness were coming fewer and farther between as his days were eaten up by exhaustion and discomfort. Ed didn’t want to ruin any residual happiness Al was still able to find.

Alphonse shivered and his eyes blinked open, revealing gold painted silver from the moonlight.

Ed’s thumb paused in its soothing motion. “Cold?” he asked softly.

Al grunted in discomfort and whispered back, “A little." He had gained some weight in the first month but hadn't been able to pack on what the doctors were recommending. The stress and discomfort and rejection his body was currently going through left Al without an appetite and his weight had been on a slow decline again, leaving him perpetually chilly and weak.

Ed stood and went to the room’s supply closet. He grabbed one of the extra blankets folded neatly on the top shelf and fanned it out, letting it float down over his brother’s body.

“Thank you, Brother,” Al said, voice weak and hoarse and soft, as it always was these days. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and closed his eyes.

Ed sat back down without a response and they remained in silence for a minute before Al peeked an eye open again to spy on his brother.

“Ed?”

“Go back to sleep, Al,” he dismissed automatically.

Al didn’t respond, instead watching Ed with that scrutinizing look he was familiar with. Ed couldn’t look at him when he did that.

“Brother, what’s wrong?”

Ed remained quiet, eyes averted. Al remained stubbornly watching him. They were at a familiar stalemate. Ed sighed, he knew who would lose this battle.

“What do you say...” he began softly, “we go back to Resembool this week?”

Alphonse was silent for a beat. And then, almost too quietly, “Oh.” Ed nearly missed it. “Oh,” he said again, “so that’s it, isn’t it?”

“Al—”

“I’m not getting any better, Brother, I can feel it. I’m not stupid, I’ve known for a while now.”

“No, Al, we’ll get you through this. This is just a setback.”

“Don’t lie to me, Ed. You’ve always been a horrible liar.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then you’re in denial!” Al doubled over, falling into another one of his coughing fits that always seemed to happen when he raised his voice or got too excited.

Ed settled back down, placing a hand on Al’s head as he attempted to reign in his breathing. “Breathe, Al, it’s okay, breathe.”

After a moment, Alphonse fell back, exhausted. Still, he looked at Ed with that Elric fire in his eyes. “I’m dying, Ed, you have to accept it.”

Ed opened his mouth to argue, but Al cut him off.

“I knew it was a possibility, and I accepted it a long time ago, back when I was still in the armor. I knew the risks all along. And I know you blame yourself. I don’t want that.”

“Oh, Al…” Ed could feel his throat constricting, his eyes stringing.

Al reached out and his fingers brushed the gauze wrapped around Ed’s knuckles, weak touch as light as a wraith’s. “That’s what you talked about with Dr. Caldwell today, isn’t it? I could hear you yelling from down the hall. You lost your temper,” he said, admonishing somehow when he hadn’t even been there to see the act. Ed supposed he didn’t have to. Al knew Ed better than he knew himself. His eyes never left the bandages from Ed’s broken knuckles.

“Winry knows too, doesn’t she? She could barely look at me this evening without her eyes watering.”

“Yeah,” Ed said softly. “She knows. I’m sorry, Al. We’ll figure out a way to get you through this.”

Al hummed in acknowledgment but didn't seem to register the words. “It’s not your fault, Brother.”

“But—“

Al cut him off with sudden eye contact. Ed deflated, argument forgotten. He wasn’t going to spend Al’s precious time arguing in circles.

“Winry said she’d bake you an apple pie and bring it in tomorrow.”

Winry had been staying with Gracia and Elicia the past two weeks while visiting. She had come while Granny attended to their customers back home. Ed had called the Rockbells after weeks of Alphonse plateauing when he felt he had no choice but to let them know the situation. Winry deserved to know, and he was done hiding things from her.

She had been hoping to bake Al an apple pie with Gracia, but the doctors hadn’t let her, citing Al’s poor health and his restricted diet. But after the talk with Dr. Caldwell, a stomach ache from some buttery crust and decadent apple filling seemed to be the least of their concerns. It was the least Al deserved anyway.

“Oh, yeah?” Al asked, a genuine smile on his tired face. “I’d like that. At least that’s one thing I’ll be able to cross off my list.”

The slight jovial air Ed felt at Al’s smile immediately vacated with the reminder of Al’s hopes and dreams being cut short. They were both coming to the realization that most of those goals would be unfulfilled.

The brothers sat in stiff, contemplative silence. Ed figured Al had dozed off due to how long they sat in silence when his eyes opened once again.

“Brother?” he whispered, like he had a secret, like he did when they were little kids up after bedtime, afraid their mom would catch them out of bed.

“Yeah?”

“I want to see the ocean.”

“What?”

Al's gaze was distant as he stared at the ceiling, as though he were staring at waves on a shore rather than a dull white space. "I always wanted to see the ocean,” he admitted softly. “I always wanted to, when I thought I would have more time...” Al’s face crumpled and his voice cracked as the first tears of grief swept over him. He began to cry in earnest, coughing his way through every few hiccups.

Ed jumped into action, pulling his brother’s weak and tense convulsing body deep into his embrace.

He just held onto his little brother and let him cry, let him mourn for the life he wouldn’t live, grieve the hand of cards he had been dealt, and maybe, just maybe, feel the anger and blame he wouldn’t admit to.

“It’s okay, little brother, it’s okay,” he murmured softly in his ear like Alphonse used to when the nightmares were particularly bad. “We’ll do it.” Ed didn’t know how, but that had never stopped him before. If this was the last thing he did, this quest that suddenly seemed so important to his brother, this one last desperate plea for life and freedom, he would do it. “We’ll find you the ocean.”

“All aboard!”

It was a half-baked plan, but most of Ed’s plans were. And with time as precious as it now was, he wasn’t about to start focusing on creating fully baked plans, not when he could feel his brother growing weaker by the day.

“All aboard! Train bound for South City! Leaving the station in five minutes! All aboard!”

Ed instinctively reached over and pulled Al’s hat lower over his brother’s head; to keep him from being recognized as well as ward off the chilly early autumn morning air. Al grumbled and pushed Ed’s hands away but his weak grip was futile.

Winry walked away from the ticket booth, making a beeline for the brothers with a grim look on her face.

“What’s the matter?” Ed asked.

“The train’s all booked and it’s the last one heading to South City for five days.”

Ed cursed under his breath. The country had been in complete chaos since the Promised Day. It wasn’t as bad as those first few weeks—at least from what he had heard from his and Al’s joint hospital room as they recovered—when working phones and scheduled trains were difficult to come by. The whole country was on edge and Central had been on lockdown. The restrictions had slowly begun to lift but Ed had a feeling it would be a while before the capital city was back on its feet, especially after the majority of its heads of state had been usurped.

“What are we gonna do?” Al asked, leaning his unimpressive weight against Ed.

"Looks like our days of lawbreaking aren't entirely behind us," Ed answered with a reminiscent smirk. "We might be out of practice, but this won’t be the first train we’ve hopped.”

The train whistle blew its ear-piercing signal and Ed and Winry grabbed each of Al’s arms.

“C’mon, let’s go!” Ed called, setting his eyes on the line of boxcars attached to the end of the train.

A mid-morning call in the middle of the workday was the least bit surprising. A call from the military hospital saying the Elric brothers were nowhere to be found was slightly more surprising, but not the first time he had gotten such a call. What was truly a shock was that it was happening now, three months after Ed had more or less stopped being his subordinate. His resignation papers were still being processed with the absolute mess Central Command had become, but Ed was as good as a regular civilian now. Roy might have expected such antics regardless of Ed’s status, but the fact that he would drag his vulnerable and weakened little brother into another one of his hospital escape attempts was an unseen circumstance.

“Sir? Did you hear me?” Hawkeye’s voice cut through his rushing thoughts as she stood at the entrance to his inner office. “It’s the military hospital. The Elrics aren’t—”

Roy nodded. “Yes, patch them through.”

With a silent nod, she headed back to her desk.

Roy picked up the phone with his normal greeting, though this call felt anything but normal

“General Mustang? I’m happy I was able to reach you. This is Dr. Caldwell. I’m Alphonse Elric’s primary—”

“Yes, we’ve met on many occasions.”

“Right. Right, of course.” The man sounded flustered and nervous, and Roy wanted to yell at him to just get on with it. “Well, you’re put down as the Elrics’ emergency contact, so we thought we should call you and let you know that Alphonse doesn’t seem to be in the hospital anymore.”

Roy massaged his forehead; he could feel a migraine coming on. They had become a regular occurrence since regaining his eyesight, but this had nothing to do with eyestrain. “And I presume you don’t know where he or his brother have gone?”

“That is correct. The nurse on morning shift came in early this morning as part of their regular routine and neither brother was in the room. There was no note or anything. No record of discharge either. I’m concerned. Edward knows his brother is in poor health. Alphonse shouldn’t be left without professional supervision. It’s irresponsible.”

Irresponsible indeed. But that was how Fullmetal tended to be. “You said Alphonse is in poor health?” It had been a few weeks since Roy had had the time to visit Alphonse since he had been promoted in the chaos following the Promised Day and had just been approved to return to work after the injuries he had sustained that day. Even so, Alphonse hadn't seemed that poorly off last time Roy had paid a visit. Ed had pulled him aside to let him know Al's health hadn't been improving, but at the time it hadn't been declining either. He wondered when it may have taken a turn for the worse. And wondered why his subordinates had failed to mention the younger Elric’s condition, seeing as they stopped by to visit more often than him. Fuery and Breda had just stopped in the day before. Apparently, they even had the pleasure of eating apple pie that had been prepared by Gracia and Miss Rockbell.

“Yes,” the doctor hesitated. “I cannot divulge all the details to you, I’m sorry. But Alphonse’s health has been at a noticeable decline. Two days ago I gave Edward information on hospice care. He didn’t take it very well, and now they’re both gone. I had hoped perhaps you had heard from them.”

Hospice? Roy felt a cold thrill of fear shoot through his veins. The boy’s condition must have taken a hell of a decline if they were now considering end of life care. Roy cursed inwardly. Of course, Ed would never take that news well. Who would after all the boys had been through and all they had suffered to become whole again? Roy’s hand clenched tightly around the phone’s receiver and it took all he had in him to not throw the phone across the room in a fit of spiteful rage.

So this was how the boys’ story would end? After all, they had been through, it had all been for nothing. For Alphonse to gain back the body he so wanted, and for that body to in turn wither away as his brother could do nothing but watch. All those years, all the sacrifices.

Roy spit out a mirthless laugh. Truth really was a cruel thing. That thought rang truer now than it did even when he had his sight taken by that featureless monster.

“General?”

“I haven’t seen them.” Roy pulled his hand away from his face and straightened. “But I will find them.” Without waiting for a reply, Roy hung up the phone. It seemed there was no time to waste.

They chose the last boxcar on the train, which, with a cursory glance, looked to be empty aside from a couple of crate boxes and hay scattered on the floor. With minimal effort, Winry quickly hoisted herself up ladder-like steps onto the train. Ed helped lift Alphonse onto the first step and Winry grabbed his arms, pulling him up as the train gave one last shriek from its whistle and began to chug off from the station. Hurriedly, Ed pushed his brother up all the way as he ran alongside the car and with his and Winry’s joint efforts, Al was safely onboard. Ed sprinted to keep up, managing to grab onto an outer railing with his good hand and swing himself up onto the steps before scrabbling up the rest of the way.

He huffed out a breath. The almost-healed wound stabbing through his left bicep from the Promised Day made itself known with a dull ache. His right hand stung uselessly from within its bandages.

He glanced to find Al in an even worse state, pale, shaking, and perspiring lightly.

“You okay?”

Al nodded with a grunt at his brother’s words. As he caught his breath, he gave Ed a weak smile. “Just a little light-headed.”

Ed and Winry both frowned and shared a look of concern. The station was still in view, and Al’s state didn’t present a good tone for this reckless trip.

“Just take it easy, Al,” Winry said. She pulled a blanket from her backpack and laid it over the hay-strewn floor.

Al didn’t even argue. With shaky breaths, he just nodded again and unceremoniously crawled up onto the blanket and laid down to rest.

Winry busied herself with checking Al’s vitals as best she could while Ed just watched. When she seemed satisfied, she pulled the rest of the blanket up and over Al, even though he was bundled up in layers of clothes more fitting for the dead of winter.

She settled back with a sigh and looked at Ed as Al’s breathing evened out.

“This is crazy, you know,” she said, not disapproving, just conversationally.

“Yeah, I know.” Ed settled back against the train wall and watched as the city landscape dwindled to suburbia and soon faded to farmland intersperse with patches of forest. “What else was I supposed to do?” he muttered, almost to himself. “Just let him wither away in some dumb hospital?”

“I don’t know what you should have done,” Winry admitted quietly.

“He hasn’t gotten to do anything on his list. Nothing but eat that pie yesterday. I have to help him.”

“You are, Ed.”

Ed shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He...there was supposed to be more time, you know? All this was supposed to be over and I thought we’d never have another worry in the world once we got his body back.”

Ed jumped as he felt warmth against his hand. Winry took it in her own, and he couldn’t help the slight flush that came to his cheeks from the kindness in her eyes.

“Al’s still here, Ed. He’s right here. And he isn’t giving up. So neither should you. He’s tough, you know?”

Ed looked down and his features softened at the sleeping face of his brother. Al was weak and pale and slept most of his days away, but he was still here, whole and here, and something about that reminder made Ed’s heart clench with an unnamed pain.

“Yeah. Stronger than I am.”

“You’re both strong.”

Ed looked up. Winry gave him a pointed look with no heat behind it.

“Yeah,” he said. But what Winry didn’t seem to understand was that Alphonse was Ed’s strength. If Al was gone...what would be left of Ed? He had been alone before, on that terrible night over half a decade ago when they had tried to bring their mother back, and again, on the Promised Day, when his stupid selfless brother had sacrificed himself to get Ed’s arm back. Ed knew loneliness better than he ever wanted to. It was a calamity that seemed to always come back no matter how far Ed ran.

And he could feel its chilling presence sneaking up behind him once more.

But Al was still here. Sure, it would take days to get to the Aerugo border, and two or three weeks to cross the land—that was if they could even figure out a way to get through the country—but Winry was right. Al was still here; he had always been strong, and he wouldn't give up nearly as easily as Ed would.

Maybe he would pull through by some miracle. But maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would get to explore new countries, see new sights, cross off every single line in his book. But maybe he wouldn’t. But dammit, it was in Ed’s power right here and now to get his little brother to that ocean and he sure as hell was going to do it. Edward Elric was known for doing the impossible, especially when it came to his little brother’s happiness. He sure as hell wasn’t about to stop now.

“So they’re gone?”

Roy nodded firmly at Hawkeye’s question. “It appears so.”

Her brows knit in concern. “Strange, considering Alphonse isn’t up for travel at the moment. They both seemed in good spirits when I visited last week. They didn’t mention any plans for transferring Al’s care somewhere else.”

“It goes beyond that,” Roy responded. “Alphonse isn’t doing well.” A hushed silence fell across the office at Roy’s grim words.

“What do you mean?” Hawkeye asked.

Roy sat on the edge of Breda’s empty desk; he was running errands somewhere in the building. He sighed, feeling wearier than he had all morning. “Their doctor mentioned end of life care. Seems Alphonse is only getting worse and his body won’t survive much longer outside of the gate. Knowing Fullmetal...”

“Edward must be beside himself,” Hawkeye concluded. “You think they ran away?”

“I think they did something reckless.” Roy stood and turned to survey his subordinates. “Fuery,” he called. The man sat at the other end of the cluster of desks, his machinery abandoned instead to turn rapt attention to the conversation.

“Sir.”

“You and Breda visited the Elrics yesterday. Did they mention anything to you? Did you notice anything off?”

Fuery shook his head, lowering the wires still in his hands in thought. “No,” he concluded. “We talked with Ed, Al, and Winry for a while and shared some pie. Alphonse wasn’t feeling well so he went to sleep after that. We stayed and talked with Ed and Winry for a while after that then left. They seemed distracted, but I just figured it was due to Al’s condition.”

Frustrated, Roy pushed the glasses off his face—another side effect of going blind and using the stone’s limited power on Havoc before himself. Things were blurry without them but Roy would take that over not having his eyesight ever again. He pushed them onto his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “Where could they have possibly gone?”

“Perhaps they went back to Resembool?” Falman offered. “The Rockbells are medically trained.”

“Wait...” Fuery began. “Ed was...he did ask me about my time in the south.”

All eyes turned to Fuery as he continued. “He and Winry both seemed interested in what the conditions there were like now. I told them that according to my comrades still stationed there that the border skirmishes have ceased and Prince Claudio is open to attempting another peace treaty with Amestris now that Bradley is gone. They were asking about Aerugo itself too, how safe it is. I told them it was usually a peaceful place but I don’t know all that much. I only saw the war, and I stayed in Foset. I never even went into the country.”

Hawkeye frowned. “You think they crossed the border? What would possess them to do something like that?”

“We’re going to have to find out. First, we have to find out where they headed,” Roy said. His voice took on its commanding tone. “Captain?”

“On it, sir.” She walked back to her desk and began dialing the number for the train station.

“Fuery, did they say anything else? Give you any clues?”

Fuery shook his head helplessly. “Not that I can recall. After I told them all I knew, they still seemed interested but dropped the subject soon after that. I thought they were just being polite and asking how I was.” He finished with a shrug.

“Fullmetal has never mentioned wanting to visit there before, has he?”

Falman and Fuery shook their heads. “Neither has Alphonse that I recall,” Falman said. “Perhaps they heard of a healing sort of alchemy there that they believe could cure Alphonse?”

“Wouldn’t they just go to Xing then?” Fuery asked. “That’s what alkehestry is for.”

Roy put a hand to his chin in contemplation. “I doubt Fullmetal would risk bringing Alphonse across the desert in his condition.”

“Sir,” Hawkeye responded, suddenly at his shoulder. “There was one southbound train this week. A mixed train with a final destination of South City. It’s the only train heading there for the next several days.”

“Well, that answers one question,” Roy said. “Captain, you hold the fort down here. Don’t let anyone know Fullmetal is missing or that I’m gone. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Are you sure about this?”

Roy smirked with grim determination. “Fullmetal still has me down as his emergency contact, it’s my duty. I need to find him so I can tell him to change that immediately.”

“I win,” Al said, placing his last card atop the pile.

“Oh, come on,” Ed exclaimed, his angry shout a sharp contrast to Al’s soft declaration. “That’s the third time in a row! I’m tired of losing.”

“At least we know you’re not cheating,” Winry told him.

Ed balked. “I don’t cheat!”

“Not since you always got caught.” Winry placed her cards on the awaiting stack then added the ones Ed had thrown down in his outburst. She began to shuffle and mix the old, worn-edged cards. “New game?”

“You bet. I’m not quitting till I win.”

Winry rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to sit this one out,” Al said, snuggling down in the little nest of blankets they had brought to keep everyone —but mostly Al—warm and comfortable.

Not long after the train had picked up speed had Ed and Winry maneuvered and stacked the empty crates to form a small alcove in the train car’s corner to shield them from the whipping wind coming in through the open door. The hay had been brushed up to give extra padding but Al’s joints still ached from the hardwood of the hard floor. He tried to ignore it and instead focus on Ed and Winry’s riveting game of cards. Al found it hard to focus though, as fatigue crept into his limbs and made his eyelids heavy. He had slept for the majority of the train ride so far but had eventually been woken up as Winry forced him to eat some lunch. The bread of the sandwich had been picked at but the food mostly remained untouched. Al hadn’t had a real appetite in weeks, and now food just seemed unappealing and too much of a hassle.

That realization made Al sad, made him feel almost ungrateful. How many years had he yearned to taste anything again, how many years had he spent trying to remember what a full stomach felt like? Ed had given up so much to give that experience back to him and now he couldn’t even stomach half a sandwich.

Al blinked his eyes open, forcing himself to stay awake. The card game had been an after-lunch suggestion, hoping to keep up morale and keep Al from sleeping the whole day and ruining his sleep schedule. A poor sleep schedule is as bad for a body as no sleep, Winry had said.

So he forced himself to stay awake and watch as Winry declared victory and Ed said some colorful choice words.

“You’ve always been such a sore loser, Ed,” Winry told him. She smiled. “Remember the time we were playing a board game at my house and you got so mad you flung the board and the piece went everywhere?”

“Yeah, then granny came in and yelled at me and told me to pick up every single piece.”

“Then you demanded that I help you because it was my fault you lost and we started arguing. Then granny just kicked us out of the house instead. What was it she told us?”

“If you’re going to act like animals, then go outside and play like animals,” Al quoted.

Ed laughed. “Yeah, that’s it. The old hag was so mad. Still made me pick up all the little pieces before I could have dinner that evening.”

“I remember I was so mad you got me kicked out too,” Winry said.

“And Al willingly got kicked out with us because he didn’t want to be left out.”

“You would have too if you saw how mad she was after you guys went outside!” Al said.

A giggles rose in Al at the memory. It turned into a full laugh as Ed and Winry joined in. It was a hearty laugh he felt he hadn’t indulged in in far too long. The laughter caught in his throat however as it brought on a coughing fit. He choked and wheezed for a moment, struggling to regain his regular breathing, and succeeded without much difficulty. He pulled his hand away from his mouth to see flecks of blood coating his palm. A thrill of horror ran through his body and he looked up to see Ed and Winry watching him, eyes wide with horror as they saw the red on his hand.

Al shakily raised his hand and wiped the blood he could feel on his lip, smothered in self-consciousness.

No one talked much after that. Eventually, Alphonse fell asleep to the silence of his companions and the constant clacking of train wheels over railroad tracks.

Central’s normally bustling and overcrowded station was still nearly desolate even three months after the Promised Day and the ensuing lockdown. Part of it was wariness from the general public, another part was the fact that there weren’t nearly as many trains running as there had been in a pre-Promised Day era. Things were just beginning to have some semblance of normalcy but Roy knew it would be a long while before things were entirely back to normal—or hopefully, a better normal.

Roy, as he walked up to the ticket counter, thought the lack of travelers would make the brothers more memorable to the ticket master. At least that would be one positive in this entire mess.

The old man behind the half glass panel greeted him pleasantly, though his bushy eyebrows raised inquisitively as he eyed Roy’s uniform.

“What can I do for you, sir?” the man asked with slight hesitation.

“I’m looking for some travelers that might have possibly taken the morning train to South City. Could you tell me if they bought tickets?”

“Well, normally we aren’t allowed to give out that information but...” His eyes drifted to Roy’s pocket, where the chain of his watch could be seen peeking out, and they widened with surprise. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Roy was about to ask him to check the files for a purchase under the name Elric, or maybe Fullmetal had possibly flashed his own watch to get access since he had yet to hand it back to the military, but Roy thought better of it.

Obviously, Edward and his brother were sneaking around, whatever trouble they were attempting to get into now. Those boys were smart, they would know not to use their name. Ed had been well known for years as the hero of the people but he had graduated to legend after word of his feats during the Promised Day had reached the public’s ear. They had heard a watered-down version of the truth, sure, but Ed's name carried more weight than ever before.

“Ah,” Roy cleared his throat. “Did two boys buy tickets for this morning’s train? Blond. One incredibly thin and sick looking? The other probably causing a scene?”

The old man hummed in thought at the descriptions, eyebrows scrunched in deep concentration. Then his face lit up. “Oh, yes. They were with a young blonde lady. She asked to buy three tickets for the train, but we were already sold out. They were here not five minutes before it left the station. They ran off soon after I told them that, though I didn’t see where they went.”

Roy frowned at the information. “It was a mixed train, correct?”

“Oh yes. It had freight cars as well as passenger cars. The freights were empty though. It is just bringing passengers to the south, and on the way back it will be picking up supplies to help rebuild the city where the alchemists ran out of material.”

Roy nodded and thanked the man for his help before swiftly striding away. Empty freight cars and no tickets left for the train. Roy sighed. He knew Fullmetal well enough to know what that meant.

He made his way out of the station and toward his car.

Mixed trains and freight trains tended to go slower than the average passenger-only train.

Roy knew he could make it to South City by the time that train arrived and get to the bottom of why his youngest ex-subordinate was attempting to travel with his ailing brother during such an unstable time in the country.

Roy put his car into drive and started out. He trusted his team to take care of things in his absence and trusted them to keep secret that two of the most famous state alchemists were now on the loose in a divided country.

Ed woke up to the incessant clacking and jostling so typical of locomotives, the rickety vibration of the train car beneath his cheek, and a cold absence at his side. He blinked his eyes open at that realization. Blinked once, twice, to see Winry, sound asleep, and the space Alphonse had occupied between them now vacant.

Ed clamped down the familiar, overprotective panic he had gotten so used to over the past few months and propped himself up on one of his elbows. It’s not like Al could have gone far. And sure enough, Ed spotted him immediately. Back to the wall and knees pulled up to his chest, wrapped in a thick blanket, Al sat opposite the car’s open doorway, watching the scenery flash by.

Ed groaned as he pushed himself up fully. He was able to sleep anywhere, but damn, he’d be lying if he said hard wooden floors made for good mattresses.

He crawled over to his brother and plopped down at his side. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Al echoed, not taking his eyes off the dark forest flying by. The outlines of the trees were only visible by the soft light the moon gave off.

“What are you doing up? You should be getting some sleep like the rest of us.”

Al shrugged. “I slept all afternoon. I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. So I came to my usual standby.” He gestured to the night sky. “I don’t get to see the stars as much as I used to.”

Ed looked down. That all too familiar guilt made an unwelcome appearance.

“I kind of miss them,” Al admitted softly, pulling the blanket tighter around his slight shoulders. “They were there for me every single night. After a while, it felt like they were my friends.” He laughed with a self-deprecating scoff. “That’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Al,” Ed assured him. Al hummed and they lapsed into a bout of silence as they both stared up at the unchanging sky.

“Al?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you want to go to the ocean? You’ve never mentioned it before.”

Alphonse blinked and finally looked at his brother before turning his gaze down. Ed could see the pensive, sad look clouding over his eyes. The same one Ed got as he thought about the strife of their early years. “Remember that book of myths mom used to read us?”

Ed paused, considering. “Kind of.” He remembered the nights of his early childhood hazily. Huddled up in the bed he shared with Alphonse. Their mom would tuck them both in, then sit on the edge of the bed and read them a story in the orange glow of lantern light. Ed didn’t remember the stories well, but he remembered the feelings of safety and comfort. “They were old Xerxes myths, weren’t they?”

“That’s the one,” Al confirmed. “There were all these epic stories about heroes fighting evil snake-people chimeras, and cyclopes, and battles over good and evil.”

Ed nodded as the memories came back. His favorite had been about the princess who had been swallowed whole by a giant lion chimera. She had to fight her way out again using the weapons she found in the chimera’s stomach left over from the other people it had eaten.

“There was this one,” Al began, “about the hero who was returning from battle who had a bunch of misadventures as he sailed home. And the way the ocean was described...I’ve never been able to get it out of my head. How it goes on forever until it touches the sky, how it sparkles and the waves glitter under the sun, how blue and vast it all is.” Al sighed. “It always seemed like a given, that I’d see it one day. I didn’t even think...” He sucked in a shaky breath and bit down on his trembling lower lip. “I thought I would have more time,” he whispered and Ed’s heart shattered.

“Al...” he whispered back, voice matching his brother’s in shakiness. “Al, no...” Ed stopped himself before he said you’ll be okay. That damned phrase had turned into a mantra the past few weeks as he said it to Al over and over again until he knew it had lost all meaning to his little brother. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Al’s shoulders and pulled him close. “We’ll get you to your ocean. Don’t you worry.”

Al nodded as he buried his face in his brother’s shoulder and tears slipped from his eyes. “Thinking about that story makes me miss her all over again,” Al admitted. “The pain really never goes away, does it?”

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” Ed held him tighter, not comfortable with the turn this conversation was taking.

Al sat back and sloppily wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I...I know we’ve never been strong believers in the afterlife but...I want to see mom again. And dad,” he added guiltily. “But I don’t want to leave you alone.”

He fell back against the wall, defeated, and buried his head in shaking hands.

“I’m so sorry, Brother, I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You sacrificed so much for me and I can’t...I don’t think I’m strong enough to survive this.”

“You—” You’re not going to die. Ed couldn’t even say it. He didn’t want to believe it but his faith waned with every passing day as Al grew weaker and his list of ailments grew longer. He put a hand on Al’s shoulder and gripped it as firmly as he dared, hoping it was a comfort. “You don’t have to apologize to me, Al. Ever.”

“But you’re scared of being alone. I know you are. That’s why you always fought so hard to get me back. I...I don’t want to hurt you like that again. I’m sorry, Brother.”

Ed sighed, at a loss for words. Nothing could be said, could it? Everything at this point would be platitudes and empty air. He and Al had never been ones to sugarcoat things with each other and Ed was trying not to do that now, even with Al’s delicate condition.

He placed his hand on Al’s head and gently ruffled his little brother’s hair, as he always did to show affection when they were little kids and Ed struggled with his words.

“I love you, Al. I don’t think I’ve said that enough.”

Alphonse placed his hand over Ed’s and looked back at him with grateful, loving, watery eyes. He squeezed his hand. It felt like nothing, it felt like everything. “You never needed to say it. I love you too, Brother.”

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows into the train car, illuminating it fully in its golden hue for the first time all day. Ed and Winry sat together now that the games had all been played until they were no longer entertaining and Alphonse was once again asleep. They discussed strategies for crossing Aerugo, estimated how long it would take to get to the ocean, how much food they would have to ration, and how little Aerugonian either understood.

Eventually, Ed just sat back against the rough wood of the train's wall with a sigh and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Whatever,” he declared. “We’ll figure it out as we go along. That’s always what I’ve done in the past.”

“Right. Because your plans are known for how well they play out.”

Ed glared at her. “Oh, shut up,” he said but there was no real heat behind it. “How much longer you reckon?”

Winry glanced out the open doorway. “Not much longer now, I’d say.”

Then, they heard a soft moan.

“Al?” Winry called softly, seeing if Al would fall back to sleep or was truly waking up.

In response, he moaned again, deeper.

Ed and Winry both crawled over to where Alphonse lied curled up on himself with his head pillowed on one of the spare blankets.

“Al, you okay?” Ed asked, absentmindedly stroking the bangs from Al’s closed eyes.

Al nodded stiffly. “Nauseous,” he muttered.

“Al, I’m going to help you lay on your side, that will help a little until we get to South City,” Winry explained. She had become something like his doctor since they had left the hospital. She gently placed her hands on Al's side and shoulder and began to push him onto his side until Al let out a suppressed whine.

“Hurts,” he mumbled, eyes still closed. “‘M sore.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she said, finally getting him on his side. “This hard floor isn’t doing you any good.” She gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

Exhausted and fatigued, Alphonse didn’t respond, and when it seemed he had fallen back into a semi-peaceful slumber, Ed and Winry moved back away.

Ed knew his brother must have been in a good amount of pain to make him react so openly. Alphonse was strong and generally didn’t show how sore he was if he could help it. Even those first few weeks in the hospital, when Al was still getting reintroduced to the sense of touch, he would just smile and suppress a wince as nurses stuck him with needles and did other unpleasant tests on him.

“His condition is plummeting from when he was in the hospital. There it was steady but now it’s like he’s changed overnight.”

“The hospital was more stable and comfortable,” Winry explained. “Traveling is hard and stressful on his system. We can’t be surprised. We just have to keep him as comfortable as we can.”

“This is going to be nearly impossible.”

Winry hummed in sad agreement.

Al coughed one of his sickly wet and bloodied coughs. "'M okay," he mumbled from his corner. Apparently, he wasn't in as deep of a sleep as they had thought.

“Go to sleep, Al. Rest up until we get to South City and we’ll wake you.”

Al nodded at his brother’s words and took his advice.

Soon enough, the shriek of the train whistle was enough to make Alphonse cringe himself awake. He groaned and moved to bring his hands slowly to his ears.

Ed and Winry began stuffing the last of their supplies into their packs as they could hear a worker on the nearing platform call out, “South City! This is the final stop on this train, all passengers must disembark! South City!”

“C’mon, we should get ready to get off before anyone finds us,” Ed said.

“Right,” Winry agreed, then paused. “Al? Are you feeling alright?” She placed the back of her hand to Al’s pallid forehead just as he let out another soft moan from deep in his chest.

“‘M gonna be sick.”

“We’re almost to the station, can it wait?”

Al let out a noncommittal groan but nonetheless kept it down.

“Here, let’s get you sitting up and ready to go.” Ed reached for his brother’s shoulders and helped him sit up.

Al whined in pain as his sore joints were forced to move after hours of nonuse against the hard floor. He jerked and gagged, what little color left on his face drained away.

“We have to go,” Winry said as the train wheeled to a stop with a heavy jerk.

Al clapped a hand over his mouth as the movement jostled him further.

“Alright, alright,” Ed said hurriedly, seeing the look of panic on his brother’s face. “Let’s go. Winry, get the bags.” He scooped Al up as gently as he could under the circumstances and quickly descended the few train steps and jumped the large gap leading to the ground with a quick apology to Al for the bumpy ride.

Winry was right behind them as they dashed down the train lot, heading straight for the station’s platform entrance. They pushed their way through the mingling train goers who were disembarking and entering the building. Ed stopped at the nearest trash can and Al immediately jumped out of his grasp and began to be sick.

Ed cringed at the violent sound of it and the tinge of red he could see mixed in with the bile, though he tried not to look. Winry came up on Al’s other side, gently patted his back, and held Al steady as his shaky hands gripped the receptacle’s edges.

Winry dug into one of the packs and held out one of their canteens. "Ed, we're running low and Al needs to stay hydrated. Can you find someplace to refill this?"       

“Right,” Ed said, rather eager to not feel useless. He grabbed the canteen from Winry’s outstretched hand, then turned and bounded through the train station, not stopping until he smacked right into a passerby.

Ed stumbled back, and shook the dazed tunnel vision from his head. “Uh, sorry, I wasn’t—”

He looked up to see his former superior staring back at him. After a moment, the startled look on Mustang’s face turned to one of disapproval.

Ed sputtered and took another step back in surprise. “Colonel? What the hell?”

“It’s General. You know that.”

Ed ignored him. “Why the hell are you here?”

“Because I’m looking for my reckless idiot of a subordinate.”

“Former subordinate,” Ed spat back.

“Fullmetal, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“What—”

“Did you even think for a second how stupid and reckless you are? How much danger you’re putting yourself and your brother in! The country just went through a government takedown and a coup. Now is the worst time to take off without a word. Do you know what could happen to you and Alphonse if the wrong people got wind of what you were doing?”

Ed was still reeling from the sudden turn of events, he couldn’t even think up a good argument. He opened the mouth but the general quickly cut him off.

“And what the hell were you thinking? I know you take your brother’s well-being more seriously than this. So why the hell are you...” His eyes glanced around Ed as if only then noticing the younger Elric wasn’t by his side. Ed knew the moment the man’s gaze landed on Al and Winry from the way his eyes widened and filled with shocked concern. “Is that...Is Alphonse alright?”

Ed crossed his arms and scowled. “You know he’s not.”

Mustang sighed. “Right, I knew that. Sorry.” When Ed didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him, Roy continued, “Dr. Caldwell called me.”

“Blabbermouth,” Ed spat in the same tone he usually reserved for bastard.

“You still have me down as your emergency contact,” Mustang expanded. “And what the hell happened to your hand?”

Ed glanced down at his bandaged right hand. He opened his mouth then closed it. He bit at his cheek for a moment of contemplation before his mouth rested into a pout. “I suppose Caldwell told you about Al.”

The general seemed to understand that as an explanation. “To an extent, yes. I know he hasn’t been doing well. That’s why I came all the way out to South City to see what the hell my former subordinate thinks he’s doing with his sick brother.”

Ed’s left hand clenched into a fist; his right twitched uselessly. He turned on the general. “If you came all the way here to drag us back to Central, you've got another thing coming. I'll kick your ass if you try anything. I'm not afraid of a court-martial anymore, you stupidly didn't bring Hawkeye, and you're still flabby from your hospital stay. I can take you easily."

Mustang held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything about taking you back, Edward.”

The use of his first name gave Ed pause. His shoulders lost their tensions and his hand released its hold. “Oh. Then why are you here? Does Hawkeye know you skipped town?”

“Of course she knows. I already told you, I came here to see what the hell you were up to now. The country is still in shambles and in a vulnerable state, your brother is incredibly ill and unfit for this kind of travel, yet you’ve decided to go gallivanting across the south sector. Have you lost your mind, Fullmetal? I thought you cared more about your brother’s wellbeing than this.”

The fist was back, clenched at his side. Mustang cringed as if expecting Ed’s typical explosive anger, but his voice came out quiet and grating.

“You think I want my brother out here like this? You’re such a bastard. This was Al’s idea. If you talked to Caldwell then I think you know well enough that Al is...” Ed sucked in a breath then sighed deeply. “He wants to see the ocean, General. We don’t have any time to waste. He had a whole book of things he wanted to do and I just...I have to be able to do just one thing for him before he...before we...I...”

Mustang put a steadying hand on Ed’s shoulder and Ed jumped at the contact, gaze clearing as he was startled from that all-consuming fear. “No need to explain further, Fullmetal. I should have known it was something like that. Still, I can’t say I approve. The ocean? You know you’ll have to go through Aerugo to get to it from here, right?”

Ed shot him a look scathing enough that the general took his hand back. “Of course I know that. This wasn’t exactly a fun planned vacation, but we’ll figure it out. That’s always how we’ve done things.”

Mustang pushed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fullmetal...”

“That offer for me to kick your ass is still open if you try to tell us no.”

“Not with that hand,” the general pointed out. He sighed and dropped his hand. “I thought this sort of reckless behavior would have stopped once you got your bodies back. And I thought I would stop getting mixed up in it when you stopped being my subordinate.”

“Hey, no one invited you to come here.”

Mustang looked to where Al and Winry now sat on a nearby bench, Al with his head between his knees and Winry patting his back, talking gently. He back to Ed. “But you need me to help you get across the border and Aerugo.” He held up his car keys and jingled them in Ed’s face then drew them back as Ed scowled and tried to swat them away. “Or do you want to keep pressing your luck and your brother’s health?”

Ed’s scowl deepened. “Don’t expect me to grovel with gratitude, you still weren’t invited.” He crossed his arms and looked pointedly at the ground, feeling an angry flush on his cheeks.

“And I don’t expect one. Mainly because I know as much as old lady Pinako must have tried, manners just never stuck for you. But I’m doing this for your brother. Al deserves this after everything he’s been through, and if this may be his only chance, then I’m happy to lend a hand.”

“Yeah,” Ed mumbled, bang shielding his eyes as he continued to stare at the ground. “Uh, thanks.” He walked off to help his brother before Mustang could even reply.

Crossing into Aerugo wasn’t difficult. In fact, it was rather easy. Amestris and its southern neighbor had been at each other’s throats for years, especially after it had come to light that Aerugo had been supplying Ishval with weapons during the Ishvalan massacre, though the country has always denied it. With the borderland constantly switching hands, it was rather difficult to know where one country began and the other ended. Thankfully since the Promised Day, the skirmishes had ended and all soldiers had been called off the frontlines, leaving nothing but barren uninhabited land for miles around.

Traveling through Aerugo on the other hand...that was a different story. Navigating the country was one thing, and lead to more than one bickering match between Roy and Ed, his apparent passenger seat co-pilot. The language barrier for one had been a foreseen circumstance that they had done nothing to prepare for.

Their first evening in the foreign country, Roy had suggested they stop at an inn and stay for the night to get their bearings, discuss something resembling a plan and find a goddamn map.

The innkeeper had been suspicious when they had first walked in, speaking in quiet but unmistakable Amestrian. Her quiet sidelong glances turned into a full-on shriek when she caught sight of the shining chain of Roy’s pocket watch.

Before anyone knew it, Roy was being pressed against the wall by two burly men who had been having a pleasant night at the inn’s restaurant.

Roy hastily tried to explain, using pointed gestures and simple strings of words to try to get through to them before they pounded his face in. His hands were still healing from when Bradley had sliced through them; he was no threat to anyone right now. It wasn’t until he stated his name and state alchemist title that the men stepped back. They looked to each other before one said with a heavy accent, “The Flame? Mustang?”

Ed, the brave stupid kid, stepped between them and Roy and placed a hand on his own chest. “Edward Elric. Fullmetal Alchemist.”

Apparently, he could read the man better than Roy.

The men stared at Ed for a moment and Ed stared back before both Aerugonians burst into hearty, joyous laughter. “Fullmetal! The Fullmetal!” They took turns clapping Ed on the shoulders hard enough to jostle him.

“Fullmetal and Flame!” one of them cheered over his shoulder and the innkeeper’s eyes widened in recognition.

“Eroi! Heroes!” the other told them. “You save Amestris we hear. No more war! You friends! Famosi! Amici famosi!” He chortled loudly.

“Come, drink,” the other invited with a hand waved toward the dining area, where the rest of the patrons had stopped to watch the scene unfold.

“Ah, no, that’s okay,” Ed said with a glance toward Al, who was leaning against Winry in the doorway. Ed shook his head to make the statement clear and held up his index finger. “Room? For night?”

One of the men called to the innkeeper, speaking in the slick words of Aerugonian.

The innkeeper said something back then beckoned the group to follow her to their room.

They slept heavily and soundly that night, in soft beds in a strange country, even as the rambunctious music and celebrations from the dining room below drifted up through the floorboards.

In the morning, Roy went down to find the lobby nearly empty and looking completely different being void of people and lit by the rising sun. He approached the front desk to find the innkeeper writing in a log.

“Ah, excuse me.”

The woman looked up, startled, and watched Roy with wide eyes. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for letting us stay. I know this won’t be worth much here but...” He pulled some bills from his wallet and slid them across the counter.

The woman vehemently shook her head. She placed her hands over Roy’s and pushed them back toward him. She smiled at him.

Roy wondered if the refusal was because of his and Ed’s apparent hero status in the border town or if she knew just how worthless Amestrian money would be in her country. Regardless, Roy pocketed the money and gave her one of his dazzling smiles. “Thank you. Now, um, do you have a map?”

The woman tilted her head to the side, trying to puzzle out the meaning of his words.

Roy found himself pantomiming a map, traveling, driving, trying to find the ocean, anything until the woman finally understood and fished him a map of the country from under the front desk. Roy was just happy Ed had stayed in the room to finish packing and hadn’t seen that kick to his pride.

The innkeeper gave them a paper bag filled with fresh baked Aerugonian pastries, and soon, they were on their way south once more.

Traveling through a foreign country was difficult, but Roy thought he might be getting better at communicating than he had been the first night. He knew his and Edward’s titles had some sway and would be good for at least a free meal, he knew how to continue following the roads south thanks to the innkeeper’s map, and he even knew some Aerugonian words now.

Le Strado meant road.

Sude meant south.

Il mare meant the ocean.

Fullmetal was picking it up rather easily. Damn prodigy that he was. Miss Rockbell didn’t seem far behind. Alphonse might have been as well, but he wasn’t even wasting his energy speaking even Amestrian much anymore.

The poor kid didn’t talk much at all lately, and he was looking worse every day. He was barely eating, he threw up what he did keep down, and the sharp angles of his face were just as prominent as they had been those first few weeks out of the gate. He spent most of the time sleeping, huddled in a nest of blankets in the backseat with Miss Rockbell. Looking at the poor kid and how much he must have been struggling, Roy wished not for the first time that they could just turn around and forget this convoluted adventure. Actually, he wished they had thought of that a lot sooner and had never even crossed into Aerugo. It was futile to worry like that now. They were more than halfway through the country and turning back would be just as risky as going forward.

Roy knew Ed was taking his brother’s condition hard, even if he fought not to show it. Roy could tell from how short the kid was being with him, the amount of bickering and snide comments that came from him as he read the map in the passenger’s seat while Roy drove. Roy wanted to yell at the kid to just stop suppressing his damn emotions already if only so he would stop glaring at Roy like this was all his fault.

They drove and drove. Well, Roy drove and drove. Sometimes through the night. Sometimes they would find an inn or boarding house to sleep in, sometimes they just slept upright in the car’s seats parked off the side of the road. Roy could tell the uncomfortable conditions were putting a strain on Al’s delicate body so they did their best to accommodate as they could, but Roy was feeling increasingly out of his depth. He could tell Ed and Winry were feeling it too, though none of them ever said anything, it hung in the air like a heavy cloud of fog.

Roy had been on small road trips here and there throughout his life, small adventures that rarely took more than a day. Nothing like this monstrosity he had been dragged into. Nothing like this. And he decided he never wanted to do it again. This one had put a damper on all future road trips Roy decided.

They traveled the long roads, asphalt to gravel to dirt and back again. Fields and vineyards flashed by, farmland and deep green forests, interrupted by speckles of small towns made of cobblestone streets and stucco buildings all clustered together. It all began to blur together as they all pushed forward as much as they could.

Ed bounded down the hotel’s front steps with a grin, flashing a thumbs-up to everyone waiting by the car.

“Got us a room for the night,” he said with pride as if they hadn't stayed in half a dozen this trip so far. He had been sent in because he understood the language best, and well, he had always been known to be prideful about his intellect. That hadn’t stopped just because he had lost his alchemy. He even paid for it with real Aerugonian money that they had made whenever Mustang, and occasionally Al when he had the energy, offered to fix up odds and ends for innkeepers and shopkeepers or regular citizens they met along the way. Alchemy wasn’t nearly as common as it was in Amestris, and the townsfolk they met were always mesmerized by the seemingly miraculous feat.

“Good job, Fullmetal,” Mustang deadpanned from his spot leaning against the hood of his car. “I’m glad we could finally put you to use. Alphonse and I have been funding this entire trip.”

“Whatever, you bastard. If I still had my alchemy we wouldn’t need you at all on this trip. That you weren’t invited on, need I remind you.”

Roy patted the roof of his vehicle. “My car begs to differ about you needing me.”

Winry came around, hefting one of the bags on her shoulder. "How about you both stop bickering. It’s been a long day. Ed, here.” She handed him one of the packs.

“You ready to go, Al?” Ed called over to where Al sat in the car, door open and head leaning idly on the door frame.

Al blinked tiredly but nodded. “Yeah.” He stepped out of the car and began shuffling toward the front steps of the hotel.

Halfway there, he collapsed.

It happened in an instant. One second, he was in Ed's line of sight, and the next he was gone. A moment passed as Ed's brain caught up to what had happened as a shock of sheer panic raced through his veins and he sprinted to his brother, collapsing to his knees beside him.

“Al! Alphonse? Alphonse, are you okay?”

“I...” Al groaned slightly and rolled onto his side to look at his brother. “I’m okay,” he said with a shaky smile that belied the fear in his eyes.

Roy and Winry hurried over. Winry knelt beside Ed.

“Al, do you feel like you broke anything?” Ever the practical medical mind.

“No. I...I’m okay,” he repeated.

“You’re sure?” Ed pressed.

Al nodded, a slight blush of embarrassment blatantly evident on his pale face. “Yeah. I think...my legs just...gave out…I guess.”

“Oh,” Ed whispered.

“Let’s get you off the ground and inside, okay?” Winry suggested.

“Good idea.”

Silently, Ed situated himself with his back in front of his brother and waited to feel Al’s arms wrap around his shoulders. They had done it a lot as kids, and even a few times after Al had gotten his body back, mostly for nostalgia's sake or when he was too sore after physical therapy. Now, as Ed felt his brother's feather-light touch and weak grip, he could feel his eyes smarting at the bitterness of it all. His heart was still pounding in his chest from this sudden turn of events, Al’s sudden weakness and inability to walk were obvious proof of his decline and Ed couldn’t deny it. He just hoped Al couldn’t feel how badly he was trembling, though Ed knew it would be impossible not to. He hooked his hands under Al’s skinny legs and hefted them both up easily.

Mustang held the door and they walked to their room in a stifling silence.

Ed thought he was going to suffocate and died from the bitter quiet as Winry unlocked their door and they all piled into the room.

“Al, do you mind if I check you over?" Winry murmured, softly, somberly. Ed could hear the tears suppressed in her voice too. It was an all too familiar tone from her, after all they had put her through, and it just made Ed feel all the more terrible.

“Yeah…okay.”

Ed brought him into the bathroom where he would have some privacy and deposited him on the edge of the tub. Winry followed and placed a hand on Al’s shoulder to keep him steady. She began speaking to Al, all clinical, pushing her emotions aside in favor of remaining professional, but Ed wasn’t listening. He couldn’t shove his feelings aside like Winry had trained to do. He backed out of the room without a word and closed the door firmly shut as if that would let him escape the harsh reality they were facing.

He placed his forehead to the door’s surface and sighed, feeling the tears gathering behind his closed eyes.

“Everything alright, Fullmetal?”

Ed jumped and scowled. He rubbed his arm roughly across his eyes, still hiding his face. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure about that? It doesn’t seem like you are.”

Ed turned and glared at the man perched on one of the beds, arms folded. “Will you back off? I said I was fine.”

“And I don’t believe you.”

“Whatever. I’m not playing this game with you, Mustang.”

Ed made his way for the door. He needed some air; he felt like he couldn’t breathe. As he reached the threshold, Mustang spoke.

“You know,” he began. “It’s okay to be upset.”

What the hell? As if the world couldn’t turn any more upside down, now the bastard general was trying to gently give him advice? Ed felt the tears brimming at the gentle caring tone Mustang used. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing was how it should be. He didn’t want to be stuck in a rundown hotel room in a foreign country, watching the life rapidly seep out of his only family left. He didn’t want his brother to be dying slowly just like mom, and he sure as hell didn’t want his former superior trying to console him.

So Ed did the only thing that was familiar to him. He balled his good fist, shook his head, and he turned his hurt into seething anger.

“No,” he said. “No, it’s not. It’s not okay for me to be upset. Not when it’s my fault that Al might...that he’s suffering like this. Alphonse always gets hurt and it’s all my fault! It always is! Haven’t we both been punished enough for a stupid mistake we did as kids? One that I dragged him into and he’s still paying the consequences for? Tell me, Mustang, how is any of that okay?”

Ed wasn’t sure when he had spun around to face Mustang until he realized the dumb look of shock on the man’s face.

The general’s disposition sobered but Ed left the room before the man could respond. He took two steps into the dim, empty hallway before Mustang softly said, “Alphonse is going to die.”

Ed paused, heart startling at the blunt cruelness of the statement.

Mustang walked to the threshold, silhouette lit by the warm glow of the room behind him. “Alphonse is going to die, Ed. I haven’t heard you admit to it once in all these weeks.”

“Yeah? So? What’s it matter? It’s not going to change anything if I say it or not.”

“Your brother is going to die but it will never be your fault.”

“Shut up,” Ed growled. “Just shut up. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I know this guilt will only get worse as time goes on. I know Alphonse doesn’t want you to feel this way.”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants, it’s the truth.”

“Doesn’t matter what he wants? Then what is all this for?” Roy gestured around them.

Ed remained silent, angrily biting at his lip. He averted his gaze from the man and glared at the opposite wall.

“You can’t avoid this forever. Say it, Fullmetal.”

“What?”

“’My brother is going to die, and none of it is my fault.’”

“No.”

“Dammit, Fullmetal! I’m trying to help you come to your senses.”

“I don’t need it!”

“Then it’s an order!”

“I’m not your subordinate anymore!”

“Don’t you understand you’re running away from the truth, and it’s only going to hurt you and Alphonse?”

Ed gritted his teeth then shouted, “Fine! Fine! My brother is going to die!” He threw his arms out in angry defeat. “I thought he was dead when he collapsed out there and it was the worst fucking feeling in the world, and it's entirely my fault! Nothing you can say or I can do is ever going to change that! And it's not fair! My little brother is dying and it's not fair!”

He wheeled around and slammed his automail foot into the wood paneling in the hallway. The loud crack of splintering wood and the impressive dent it left gave Ed a flood of momentary relief that was gone all too quickly.

He could feel his entire form shaking, trembling. His heart hadn’t beat normally since Alphonse had collapsed outside. Ed leaned his sweat-slicked forehead against the wall. He thought he was going to be sick. All the while Mustang just stood there, silently and suffocating in his sheer presence.

Ed laughed bitterly because it was easier than throwing up or breaking down. He wanted the world to swallow him whole.

He smiled harshly, face still hidden by the wall and his hands as struggled to suppress his hitching breaths, not even caring if Mustang was listening to his hysteria. “You know,” Ed began, glancing at the general. “That bastard Father said Truth was cruel but it was fair. And I haven't gotten that out of my head since Al started getting worse. He was wrong. Nothing that Al has had to go through has been fair.”

The general was silent for a long time, mulling the words over, maybe deciding whether or not he wanted to get involved.

“Truth is cold and uncaring,” Mustang began softly, “but that’s why we all have each other. It’s our job to care for our loved ones. And you’ve been doing just fine, Ed, all these years, you’ve taken care of your brother and that’s all anyone could ask for, especially Alphonse. I mean, look at what you’re doing. Breaking him out of a hospital and illegally traveling hundreds of miles because he mentioned wanting to see the ocean?”

“He’s my little brother,” Ed said simply, chancing a glance to make eye contact with Mustang, who still hadn’t moved from where he stood in the doorway. “I told Truth to take my heart if it meant not losing Al when we were kids, and I still mean it. I’d give up my alchemy a thousand times over if it meant he’d get better. I’d do anything for him.” His lip jutted out almost childishly and his face immediately crumpled. Ed felt his knees buckle then give out and he slid against the wall and collapsed to the floor. “He’s my little brother.” He buried his head deep into his knees, arms over his head as if that could protect him from the cruel world, and began to sob in earnest. “He’s my little brother.”

Mustang didn’t say anything but the creak of the old floorboards announced his hesitant approach. Ed heard his back make contact with the wall and he slid down to sit beside Ed.

Awkwardly, hesitantly, Mustang reached out an arm and placed it across Ed’s shoulders, pulling him in slightly to his side.

Ed didn’t acknowledge the comforting movement, but the gentle caring of his former superior just made him cry harder. This wasn’t how any of it was supposed to be. He wanted his brother. He wanted his brother to be happy and healthy and Mustang to go back to his jerky standoffish self. At least then, things had made sense.

Ed stayed stiff and closed off for several minutes as he cried his heart out in front of his former superior officer, not willing to accept the comfort the man was awkwardly offering to him. He couldn’t even be embarrassed. In any other circumstance, in a world where his brother wasn’t dying and Roy Mustang didn’t need to—ugh—console him, Ed would have decked the bastard for even insinuating it. But embarrassment seemed like such a trivial thing; so many things didn’t seem to matter now that his days spent with Alphonse were dwindling. Nothing mattered but him and his little brother, and that was quickly slipping through his fingers too.

Mustang just sat there and listened, his hold steady and his presence there as it was needed. He didn’t dare try to say anything and Ed was thankful for that. Any words of comfort now would have been empty air, and at least Mustang could figure that out.

Ed didn’t relax until the last of the sobs turned to quiet hiccups, leaning into the embrace for just a moment as he gathered his bearings. Then, he remembered himself. Remembered who he was there with.

He rubbed a rough hand across his eyes but the tears continue to slowly dribble down his cheeks. He sniffed. “I, um,” he moved to stand up, quickly shrugging the general’s arm off his shoulders. “I’m going for a walk. I-I’ll be back for dinner.”

Ed stood and fled the hall. He needed to get out of there. He needed to grieve without witnesses, like a wounded dog hiding away to not show weakness. He needed to take a moment to catch his breath and try to figure out how the hell he would survive this if Alphonse didn’t.

The darkness of the night pressed against the windows of the car with an all-consuming presence. According to their map, they were getting close to the coast so they had decided to forgo finding a hotel for the night and instead drive straight through. They should be to the ocean by daybreak. But now, in the middle of nowhere in a land Roy didn’t know, sunlight seemed like an ephemeral dream. Aerugo had a charming quaintness to it in the daytime that seemed to turn into eerie isolation as soon as the sun went down. Roy knew he was just being paranoid; he was thirty years old, he wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore.

The kids were all asleep now, leaving him feeling as though he were entirely alone. The silence in the car did nothing to help. All he could do was stare at the dirt and gravel road illuminated by the small circle cast by his headlights. That, and let his thoughts run rampant in his head.

He was still slightly shaken from Ed’s minor breakdown the other day. Ed seemed rather shaken himself still. He was still the Fullmetal he had always known, but just one or two degrees off now.

Roy had never seen such raw emotion from the kid before that. He had heard him cry and yell at his father when Alphonse had sacrificed himself, but Roy had been blind and rather far away. But up close Roy could see the helplessness in his shaking shoulders, see the way Ed curled in on himself like he could hide from the unfairness of their lives. It was raw, unrestrained emotion pent up for months. It was the weeping of a boy about to lose the last of his family. It made everything feel too real.

Ed had been mothering his poor brother even more since his collapse outside the hotel—as if that were possible. But Roy couldn’t blame him anymore. Al wasn’t able to walk much on his own anymore; his legs were too weak and shaky to support his underwhelming weight for more than a step or two. The long bouts of sitting in the car definitely hadn’t helped. The kid slept all the time, and on the rare occasions he was awake and actually coherent, he didn’t speak much, and never had the appetite to stomach anything. Ed and Winry would apologetically cram meager spoonfuls of broth into his mouth any time he was half-conscious. He couldn’t afford to not eat anymore.

It was damn depressing. The most depressing part of it all was that Alphonse never complained about his situation, not once. Roy shook his head. Ed was right. It really wasn’t fair.

Just then there was a small shifting sound from behind his seat, barely audible over the crunching of gravel under the car’s tires. Alphonse made a small noise of exhalation and turned onto his other side. Roy figured the kid was just getting more comfortable and was barely awake to register what he was doing anyway. But when he glanced up to the rearview mirror, he found Alphonse awake, sitting up and alert, watching the indiscernible black against black scenery outside the window.

“Everything alright, Alphonse?” He kept his voice low as to not disturb the other passengers.

Alphonse blinked and nodded. “’m okay, general…Thanks.”

Roy hummed in acknowledgment and figured that was the end of the conversation.

“How much longer…’til we arrive?” Al asked after a minute of silently catching his breath.

“Few hours, I’d say. It’s just past midnight.”

“Hm,” Al said, eyes not drifting from the window.

After another beat of silence and Roy sending several glances toward the mirror to see Alphonse hadn’t moved, he said, “You should go back to sleep, Al.”

“Seems to be…all I do,” Al muttered petulantly. Roy couldn’t help a smile. He had on the same expression his brother so often wore when he was annoyed or inconvenienced. It hit Roy then that he had missed Alphonse. The kid had been here this entire time, but it seemed like a lifetime since he had seen a spark in Al or had more than a fleeting conversation with him. This was the most Al had talked in days, and Roy could see the toll it was having on him, how difficult it was for him to breathe and string a sentence. "So dumb…that I…’m spending what time I have left…sleeping.”

“Your body is trying to conserve energy. It’s fighting for you to get stronger.”

“Seems like…wasted effort. Know I’m gonna…die ‘nyway.”

Roy didn’t respond right away. First from shock at the kid’s blunt crassness more suited for his brother. And then from the drowning realization, he was right. "Don't talk like that, Alphonse."

Roy sighed, his hold on the steering wheel tightening to a white knuckle grip and he kept his vision straight forward on the road ahead. He cursed himself for being a hypocrite. Why chastise Ed for not wanting to admit it when it was just as hard for Roy to accept either?

“General,” Alphonse began. He paused so long Roy thought he might have fallen asleep, or blacked out, whichever. “I have a favor…t’ ask you.”

“What is it, Al?”

“When I...when it happens,” he hesitated, Roy could feel the reluctance, the struggle to string the words together and it had nothing to do with his illness. “Brother isn’t…gonna take it well. I know he isn’t. Especially not…’specially not after everything we’ve gone through…to get our bodies back. He’s going to blame himself. He already does.” He bit his dry, cracked lip. “Can you...keep an eye on him?”

Roy’s brow furrowed. “You don’t think he would try to do something stupid, do you? He doesn’t have his alchemy anymore, he wouldn’t...”

“No, he’s not dumb enough…to try that again. Just...be there for him?”

Roy shook his head, conflicted. “I think I’m the last person your brother would turn to for comfort.”

Al went quiet, staring down at his lap. “He respects you. You’re one of the only adults in our lives who’s…always been dependable…and trustworthy. Ed won’t come to you to ask for help…but I know he’ll need it. He has Winry…and, and Granny…but they don’t understand everything we’ve been through…like you.”

Roy sighed. Dammit. When he enlisted these kids five years ago, it was supposed to be a ladder-climbing scheme. It was never supposed to end like this, never supposed to end with him caring this much, caring so much that it felt like someone had reached into his chest and tried to tear his heart out with every one of Alphonse’s weak words and struggling breaths.

“I don’t know how good I’ll be at comfort, you know your brother and I have always been at each other’s throats,” Al nodded, hanging onto the general’s words, “but I’ll do what I can for him. The whole team will. I promise, Alphonse.” He reached his arm back awkwardly to the back seat, and Al, thankfully, understood. He took Roy’s hand in a gentle shake.

“Thank you…general.”

Roy pretended not to hear the tears in the young boy’s voice, just as he ignored the ones in his own. “You can count on me, kid.”

Alphonse woke to a quiet commotion. The majority of his life these days was spent sleeping, so his moments of consciousness always felt somewhat surreal, and the time between waking and dreaming always kept him in a daze, making him double guess what was real and what wasn't. He had gotten used to dozing off while others around him spoke and went on with their tasks and conversations; he was easily able to zone them out when he didn't have the energy to try and listen. But this time was different. There was an excitement in their voices, an eagerness as they shouted and exclaimed when the past few weeks they had spoken in nothing but hushed, sober tones around him.

Al registered the vibrant red pressing again his eyes from the bright light source that was illuminating the insides of his eyelids. Cautiously, he cracked one eye open and was greeted by the sight of the entire world glowing white. His heart stuttered. His time had come, he was standing in front of the gate, standing in that white expanse he had just gotten out of. But this time there would be no Ed coming back for him. His heart seized until the voices registered, and a hand shook his shoulder.

“We’re here!” Ed cheered.

"Alphonse, wake up! Al, we're here!" Winry's voice was closer now, accompanied by another shake of his shoulder.

Al blinked the bright spots from his eyes to see the brightness of the world wasn’t from the emptiness of the portal, but from the vibrant sunrise. “Wh…” All he could do was stare, dumbfounded, out the windshield. Below the blazing sun, its rays shined and shimmered off a surface like glitter. Al gasped. The ocean. The waves. It was just like how mom had read it to them.

The car doors opened and shut with fervor, but all Al could do was gape at the glorious, unimaginable sight. They had really made it.

His own door flew open, and there was the general with a confident grin on his face as he looked down at Al.

He held out his hands. "Your ocean awaits," he said and scooped Alphonse up and out of the car, kicking the door shut behind him. Ed and Winry were already passing the front of the car, jumping and cheering.

“Al, we’re here! We’re here!” Winry said.

“Isn’t it awesome?” Ed yelled.

They darted toward the sand, laughing and hopping as their toes sunk into its softness. Mustang followed slowly behind them, carefully to not jostle Al too much.

Al could only watch as they neared the water. “It’s so vast,” he whispered. “It just…it goes on forever.”

“It’s a beautiful sight,” Mustang agreed. Alphonse looked up as the general choked on his words, and he saw tears shimmering in the man’s eyes. He caught Al’s gaze and smiled.

Al could feel his own eyes welling and tears threatening to pour over. He blinked them from his gaze and felt them flow down his cheeks.

“General…can you…I want to walk…the rest of the way. Can you…?”

“Sure, kiddo.”

 “Brother?” Alphonse called softly. Ed and Winry both turned from where they stood in the wet sand from the receding tide. At seeing Alphonse placed back on his feet, they ran the few strides back to help. Ed immediately slid his arm behind Al’s back as Al threaded his arm around his brother’s shoulders. Winry took Al’s other side. Slowly, but surely, Alphonse walked to the ocean on his own feet.

The tide came in fast and rolling and Alphonse let out a gasp as the cold water submerged his feet.

"It's cold!" he gasped and laughed because he could still feel it. He could feel the coolness on his toes even as the water drew back, he could taste the saltiness in the air, and smell the brine of the water and the dampness of the sand. He felt so goddamn alive, more than he had since he had taken Ed's hand in the gate all those months ago. He had his body back and that was all he had ever wanted.

And he got to see the ocean. And it was more than he could have ever wished for.

Alphonse felt the tears redouble their efforts and flood down his cheeks. The saltiness reminded him of the water now lapping against his shins. He laughed, and he sobbed, and couldn’t tell which was which. He looked to Ed then Winry, saw tears in their eyes and running down their faces, even as they all continued to laugh and cheer.

Alphonse stood steady between the grip of his brother and his best friend, felt strong and present as the ocean water parted around his legs. He stared out at the sea as it rippled and danced and glimmered, going on and on forever. And he smiled.

Ed looked down at him with a watery grin of his own. “Isn’t it great, Al?”

“Better than…all those fairytales,” Al agreed.

“Are you satisfied then?”

“I am. Thank you, Brother…Thank you.”

Ed just laughed and ruffled his brother's hair, like this was the easiest thing he had ever done, like this wasn't the life-changing feat it had been.

Alphonse rested his temple against his brother’s shoulder with a sigh of contentment, of relief. “I’m ready…to go home, Brother.”

Ed smiled softly at him. “Okay, little brother. Let’s go home.”