Al made his way to the phone booth the minute he heard the news. He'd never been so anxious to leave a town before - most likely due to how helpless he'd felt here. A late season wildfire had closed the rail lines, and the way station Al had been stuck in was too far from the fire for him to help control it. He'd been held up here for over a week, making him late for meeting Ed and Winry in Risembool.

They were expecting their first baby any day now. Winry had even been having some contractions yesterday, though Granny said they were too far apart for her to be officially in labor. Al hoped for good news as he dialed the number for the umpteenth time this week.

"Hello?" a harried voice answered.

"Brother?"

"Al." Ed exhaled and quickly took another breath. "It's happening. Her pains are five minutes apart. She's hurting so bad, Al."

Al clutched the phone tighter. He couldn't believe he was missing this. "How is she?"

"In pain, Al. One of her organs is basically pushing itself inside out. Oh, God!"

"It's going to be okay, Brother."

"What force of evolution decided to make us placental mammals? I'm going to punch it in the face."

How Ed. He wanted to solve everything with his fists. "Oh, Brother," Al said.

"We could've laid eggs like any respectable land creature, but no, our young have to develop inside their mother's body. At great risk to everyone who ever lived. Nature's a crock, Al."

"Well, it's easier to defend just yourself than a nest, Brother." Al didn't think this was the time for a theoretical discussion, but maybe it would help Ed calm down. "And if food gets scarce, you can't move a nest."

"Okay, the second one makes sense, but the first one? Babies are so helpless that they completely impede self-defense."

"Other mammals' young aren't as helpless as ours are," said Al. "Human babies would have a longer gestation period –"

"– if we didn't walk upright," Ed finished. "Which we evolved to look more intimidating so we wouldn't be attacked in the first place. I get why, it's just – really annoying right now."

"Yeah, it is," Al agreed. "But you know, if babies weren't so helpless, we wouldn't form such strong communities in order to raise them. We might not even have civilization without them."

"Or we might have done it a different way," said Ed.

"True."

"But I get what you're saying. Take ten and give back eleven, right? The human community puts so much into helping us grow, and we can only pay it forward – to the next generation."

Al hadn't been going in that direction at all. Or any direction, really. He and Ed used each other as sounding boards for new ideas so often that their conversations usually consisted of suspended trains of thought, crossing in strange ways and making leaps onto different tracks entirely. This leap Ed had made from human communities to their new principle of equivalent exchange wasn't the biggest either of them had ever made, though.

"Uh . . . yeah," said Al. "Yeah! That's our evolutionary advantage. Instead of survival of the fittest, humans form communities that operate on our new principle of equivalent exchange! Brother, do you realize that this is as close to quantitative proof our theory has gotten yet?"

"Holy shit, you're right," said Ed. "And to think we came up with it by accident."

"Well, you know what Teacher says. If you're stuck on something, you might need to work on other projects for awhile, and then come back to it."

Al heard the phone shift and a muttered "Yeah" from Ed. "Al, I'm sorry. That I haven't been much help lately."

Al leaned against the back of the phone booth. "Brother, it's fine. Like I said, we both needed to work on other projects for awhile. Yours just wasn't directly related to alchemy, is all."

"Getting married and starting a family is my project, huh? Well, it's been a hell of one so far. I wouldn't want to be doing anything else."

"I wouldn't want you doing anything else."

"Thanks, Al."

"Of course, Brother. Listen, I actually called to tell you that I'll be out of here in about an hour. I should be home late tonight - or really, early tomorrow morning."

"Okay. I don't know what we'll be doing by then. Granny says the first baby can take over twenty-four hours to come." Al heard the phone crackle again. "God, I hope it doesn't take that long."

"Is Winry holding on all right?" Al asked.

"Yeah, she's strong. Cursing like a banshee, though."

Al smiled. "I bet."

"Well with any luck, you'll be an uncle by the time you get here."

An uncle. Al was going to be an uncle. Brother and Winry were going to be parents. This was so surreal. "I can't believe this is happening," he said. "I can't believe I'm not there with you."

"It's okay, Al," Ed said. "It's not your fault you got held up. And there's not much you can do to help anyway. We know that from experience."

"We sure do," Al agreed, thinking back to their stormy stay in Rush Valley. He hoped - prayed even - that things would turn out as well today as they had four years ago. He could hardly imagine the alternative.

There was only just enough sunlight to walk by as Al left the train station. Al fastened his coat tighter to ward off chilly dawn air. No neighbors waved at him or tried to chat with him; they were either asleep or just barely awake. Some might have started their morning milking, or so the sounds coming from a few of the barns might suggest.

The whine of the door hinge was the only sound greeting Al at the Rockbell house. He didn't know what he expected to see as he poked his head in the door of the surgery room - maybe blood smears? - but it was only spick and span as ever, though the mattress was uncustomarily stripped. He checked the room he and Ed had shared upstairs; finding it empty, he dropped his suitcase and coat there.

The soft sighs emanating from Winry's room warned him to tread lightly. Behind the door was Winry curled up on her bed and Ed sprawled next to her, tummy out as usual. Al spared a fleeting thought of moving Ed's hand and pulling his shirt down again, but next to Winry's side of the bed was a bassinet. Poking out from the bassinet was a flash of pink.

A closer look inside the bassinet revealed a squashy bald head swaddled in yellow blankets. Al tried to find any traces of Ed or Winry in the newborn's face, but it decidedly took after Every Generic Baby Al Had Ever Heard Of. Though on closer look, the baby wasn't actually bald, its hair was just so light and fine that you could hardly tell the difference.

He heard a murmur from the doorway. "Would you like to hold him, Alphonse?"

Al turned and saw Granny Pinako in her dressing gown. He asked her, "It's a boy?"

Granny nodded. "It's a boy."

Al turned back to his nephew and fingered the blanket around him. When the bundle squirmed, Al snatched his hand right back.

Granny chuckled quietly. "It really is okay to hold him. If he cries, you can give him back."

Al said, "I don't think I've ever actually held a baby before."

She shuffled over. Picking up the baby, she explained, "There's not much to it. You support his head with your upper arm and cradle the rest of him with your hands." Al mimicked her motions as he bent down to take him from her.

The baby wasn't too heavy - maybe six or seven pounds. He was also surprisingly warm. A little hand poked out beneath his chin. Al didn't know fingernails could be so small. The fingertips receded as the little boy yawned, his mouth forming a lopsided O.

That was all it took for Al to lose it. He didn't dare wipe the welled-up tears from his eyes - though he could easily carry the baby's weight in one hand, Al was deeply aware of how fragile he was.

"You all right there, Al?" Pinako asked him.

"Uh, yeah," Al said, blinking his tears away. "It's just . . . so amazing."

Granny nodded. "I never imagined, when I delivered the three of you, that I'd be delivering your children, too. It's a great blessing for me."

"I can't imagine Brother and Winry trusting anyone else with this."

"Well I suppose they'll have to at some point," Granny said with a smirk. "I doubt I'll outlive their desire to reproduce."

"You can't die yet!" Al protested, though he was careful to keep his voice down. The infant in his arms started fussing, as though he were also upset over his great-grandmother's eventual death.

"Try bouncing him," Granny said.

"What?"

"To calm him. Move back and forth with your body, like you're rocking him."

"Uh . . ." Al shifted his stance, completely unsure of what to do.

"I don't suppose it really matters," she said. "He'll be crying soon enough anyway. It's just about time for Winry to feed him. And speaking of feeding, I was just about to start breakfast." She walked back to the door. "I'll be back in awhile, you just hand him off to his parents once he wakes them up."

"O . . . kay . . ." Al's grip on the baby tightened as he started to squall.

"And don't you worry, Alphonse. I won't be kicking the bucket for some time yet." And with that, she was down the hall.

The baby's cries grew louder, though Al tried the bouncing thing Granny had told him to do. He felt silly, like he was doing some strange dance - badly.

Winry stirred and reached for the bassinet beside her. Finding it empty, she muttered, "Henry. Who's got Henry?"

Al was quick to hand her the baby, whose cries quieted when she gave him her breast. "Thanks, Al," she said. With a sudden thrill she straightened and her eyes opened fully. "Al!" she cried, and realizing she'd exposed herself to her brother, she scrambled to cover herself with the bedsheets. "Ed," she said, nudging her husband, "Ed! Al's here, wake up!"

Ed groaned, and Al was sure he wouldn't have sat up if the baby hadn't taken a break from eating to start fussing again. "Whassa matter?" he asked as he rubbed his eyes.

"Hey, Brother." Al sat on the end of the bed. "I met your son. He's beautiful."

Ed grinned in his wildly proud way. "Damn straight he is! Why didn't you wake me up when you got in? I wanted to be the one to introduce you."

"Sorry," said Al, shrugging. "So you're calling him Henry?"

Ed nodded. "Yep. Henry Rockbell Elric. Though I still think Absalom would've been a great name . . ."

Al brought a weary hand to his face. "Brother. No."

"He could've gone by Abs! Which is what he could have. When he's older."

"Brother, stop." He looked to Winry for assistance, but she was trying to feed her squalling baby.

"You're fine, you're fine," she cooed. "Just – take it, come on!"

"He doesn't like being covered with the sheet," said Ed, and he gingerly pulled it off. He turned back to Al and realized his mistake. "Oh."

Al hedged. "If you want I can –"

Ed interrupted. "You can keep your eyes up, can't you? I mean," he turned to Winry, "is it really that big of a deal?"

Al shrugged. He was more or less comfortable with Winry feeding her baby in front of him. He wasn't going to get turned on by his sister, much less with a baby in the room.

This seemed clear to Winry, who gave Ed a wicked grin. "That's not what you said the other night."

Ed gave a scandalized "Winry!" while Al guffawed. Winry shifted to a one-handed hold on the baby to meet Al's high five.

"I see taking his virginity hasn't made him any less of a prude," Al told her.

"I'm not a prude," Ed huffed. "You two are shameless."

"That is what you called me when we –"

"Oh my god, shut up!" Ed scowled over Al and Winry's laughter. He said to Henry, "Your mommy's being awful right now, isn't she? Poisoning your delicate ears."

"Yeah, that's rich, coming from you," said Al. "Mister potty-mouth." To Ed's middle finger he said, "Case in point."

Winry said, "You better clean up your language before Henry gets old enough to understand."

"Yeah, whatever."

She punched him lightly on the shoulder before handing the baby off to him for burping. "Not too hard," she reminded him.

"I'll be gentle."

"But not too soft or you won't get anything up."

"I know," said Ed, patting the baby's back.

". . . You're doing it wrong."

"I can't do anything with you breathing down my neck! Give me some space!"

Winry gave an aggravated sigh. "Just . . . ease up. You're going too fast."

The tempo of Ed's hand on the baby slowed, and Winry fixed her nightshirt. She grunted as she fell back against the pillows.

"Are you hurt?" asked Al.

"I'm sore," she said, "everywhere. But mostly in my abdominals. It hurts to move."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. Pushing a baby out of your body does that to you."

Ed reached for her hand. He'd leaned back against the bed too, letting gravity keep the baby in place on his shoulder as he burped him. "You're amazing, you know that?" he said to her.

She smiled. "I do. Thanks, Ed."

They looked so beautiful together, with their hair around their shoulders and their tired but pleased eyes. Al had to get a picture. "I'm going to get my camera," he said. "Don't move."

"Yeah, no can do," said Ed, whose hand had already left Winry's. "The baby just spit up."

"Well clean him up by the time I get back, okay?"

"I don't want to take a picture like this, Al," said Winry. "I feel so gross."

"You're beautiful," the brothers reassured her at the same time.

Winry's sigh followed Al down the hall. He tossed his coat aside from where he'd left it, then searched the suitcase beneath. Camera in hand, Al was about to head back to Winry's room when he noticed the train tickets that had fallen out of his coat pocket. He was about to put them and the coat back when he noticed the dates listed on them.

"Brother," he called as he walked back down the hallway. "What time was Henry born?"

Winry was nursing Henry again, this time at her other breast, when Al returned to the room. "About half past midnight, I think," Ed answered. "Why?"

"You do realize what today's date is, don't you?"

"Um, September . . . no, wait, September ended, didn't it? I haven't been keeping track lately –"

Al held up his latest train ticket. "Yesterday," he said, "was October Second."

Al didn't know what kind of reaction to expect from the news that Ed and Winry's son had been born just half an hour into October Third. He didn't end up getting much of any reaction at all. Ed's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything. Winry wound her free arm around him. After a few moments she said, "We can just have his birthday be the second, it's only half an hour's difference, he doesn't have to know –"

"What? No! I'm not – upset or anything! It happened . . . seven years ago! A long time ago."

"It was a sad day," said Winry.

"It's not like we can ever forget it," Al added.

"And we won't. Especially not now." Winry gave Ed a hard stare, which he broke with a shake of his head. "That day, it was the start of a journey." Ed swallowed. "A hard one, but . . . it ended up being for the greater good, didn't it? I mean, we saved Amestris! We met so many people and . . . I wouldn't be who I am today if we hadn't done what we did."

"That's true," said Winry, stroking the ends of his hair.

"I guess what I'm saying is, that journey's over. And today I'm starting another one. With you, Winry. And I know it'll be hard – it's been hard for you already – but it'll change us for the better. Just like our last journey. And I love having a happy reason to remember today, rather than a sad one. But Al, if you'd rather . . ."

"No," said Al as he wiped tears from his eyes, his voice cracking. "I want to remember today for a happy reason, too."

Winry's face was wet, and Al could tell Ed was holding back tears of his own. "Well," Ed said gruffly, "that's good. Great."

Henry unlatched from Winry's breast with a soft popping sound. Ed leaned over so he could take him again, but Winry caught his face with her free hand. "Y-you know you're allowed to cry, you – you idiot."

"I know," he said shakily. He took the baby anyway and cradled him close, resting his son's head next to his face.

"I think," said Al, "that making a human being worked a lot easier the second time."

Ed snorted. "No shi-it." His voice broke in the middle of the word.

"I dunno," said Winry. "I think this kid's going to cost us at least an arm and a leg."

They laughed over that joke like they hadn't made a thousand variations on it before. They laughed so hard they turned the tears streaming down their faces from sentimental to hysterical. They laughed until Pinako came upstairs with an ironic smile and a breakfast tray for Winry.

"Well, ain't that a sight," she remarked over them. "Four Elrics in the room, and the only one not crying is the newborn baby."