The evening sun was beginning to set over the Resembool hills. The stars and the half-lit moon were climbing higher and higher in the sky, preparing for the night time when all the residents of the little town would turn out their lamps and go to sleep.

In the white house on the hill, the Elric brothers stood in the kitchen, clearing plates and washing the dishes they had used that night for supper. Both boys stood on stools at the sink, their little legs too short for a kitchen designed for the work of adults. Edward was washing the dishes and Alphonse was drying them and putting them away. They were quiet in their work, a nightly routine they'd kept every night since their mother had passed and they had been left on their own to take care of themselves.

From the corner of his eye, Ed watched his younger brother as he gently scrubbed the plate he was holding with the checkered dishrag, setting the plate aside before grabbing the next one. They usually worked pretty quietly at night, a silence that came with the end of the day exhaustion that always took over along with the comfort in the act of simply being in each other's presence, no words needed. But tonight Al was being uncharacteristically quiet. He'd hardly said anything throughout dinner and Ed could feel the worked-up tension radiating from him in droves.

Ed knew that the reason his brother was so quiet tonight was the nervousness that surrounded him inside and out. He didn't have the same confidence in their plan that Ed had, the younger brother always being much more of a rule follower than the elder, and so he took the warning to those who attempted human transmutation much more seriously than Ed did.

It wasn't the first time Al had expressed a sense of nervousness over the whole plan, outright telling Ed about his fears more than once in the week prior, a warning to Ed that Al was outright fearful of what would happen should they fail to bring their mother back. Typically when Al was scared or nervous he would grow quiet, the same quietness he carried with himself now, not speaking for the fear that if he said something then it would give him away and everyone would see how truly afraid he was. It broke Ed's heart to know that that's what Al was doing now, even when Ed was the only person around to see him.

What had made it even worse were the nightmare Al had been having recently. Ed would wake up many nights to the sound of muffled sobs from his little brother. Al would pull his quilt up over his head to try and hide the fact that he was crying. On those nights Ed would move to the far side of his mattress and tell his little brother to climb in, the two of them always sleeping better with their little fingers intertwined. Ed never asked, but he knew those nightmares were built on his fear of the outcome of the transmutation and all the things that could go wrong.

They were bringing their mother back tomorrow. They had checked their calculations for the composition of an average female adult more times than they could count. They had bought all the ingredient they would need a week prior as if they were going to bake an unholy birthday cake rather than to bring their deceased mother back from the dead.

Ed grabbed the final dish beside him, one of their mother's white bowls with a single bread roll left over inside of it from dinner. "Here, Al," Ed said, breaking the bread in half and giving one of the pieces to Al while keeping the other for himself, not wanting to waste any food. "Tonight we celebrate," Ed added, trying to ease the tension. It was a premature celebration for a victory that had not yet come, but Ed knew they were smarter than any alchemist who had attempted to raise the dead before; they would not fail like the rest.

"Can we drink some juice too if we're celebrating?" Al asked, hopping off his stool and walking over to the refrigerator without waiting for an answer. Ed would have told him yes regardless, though Al never truly needed his permission anyway. While Ed might have been the elder brother, they were still equals and tended to act as such.

Ed got down two of the newly dried glasses and Al poured them both some of the cranberry juice that Pinako had brought them over earlier that week as a special treat. They used to joke that the juice reminded them of blood with its deep red color, but Ed knew this probably wasn't the appropriate time to bring up the old memory.

They ate their bread and drank their juice in silence, but Ed could already see that Al was feeling better; the bags under his eyes were a new indication that he was getting sleepy.

"This will be our last supper without mom," Ed said with a soft smile, and Al's expression mirrored his.

"Yeah, I guess so. We've been having a lot of last things without mom recently, it'll be nice when she's back tomorrow," Al replied with a yawn and the soft smile never left his face.

"Damn right! Now how about you go get ready for bed and I'll finish up down here."

"You sure? I can help—" Al started to ask, but was cut off by a second big yawn.

Ed laughed, "yeah, don't worry about it."

"Goodnight, Brother," Al said, turning on his heels heading towards the door.

"Goodnight, Al."

When Ed heard the bathroom door shut and lock, and the sound of the sink come on as Al began to brush his teeth, he set his glass on the counter and left the kitchen. Tiptoeing lightly, trying not to make a sound, Ed slipped through the basement door and down the stairs.

Both of the kerosene lamps had been left lit on the basement floor, illuminating the room in weird angles and creating unnatural shadows on the books that lined the shelves and the suits of armor that rested against the back wall. He would have returned down here anyway to turn the lamps off to conserve fuel, but now he came for a second purpose.

Grabbing the already open alchemy textbook on the floor, Ed started flipping to the specific section he was looking for with rapt attention. He could have found the pages with his eyes closed, their placement seared as a forever present memory in his mind from the dozens and dozens of times he had flipped to that section with such fierce determination.

Human Transmutation, the header read in fancily scrawled font. It was the largest and probably also the oldest textbook they owned, yet all its theories still held up to the test of time, never becoming outdated as the alchemist of today learned more and expanded the field.

The first paragraphs were lined with warnings and some of the tragedies that had befallen those who attempted the Ultimate Taboo. Usually Ed had always skipped the warnings that stuck out in bold front at the beginning of the shortest chapter in the entire book. Not much was known about human transmutation, all of the alchemist who had attempted it had failed and either died in the rebound or just shortly after, their bodies marred and mutilated as their price to pay for getting it wrong.

But tonight, for the first time since he first read the section on human transmutation, Ed read through the multitude of warnings listed on the subject. Warnings about the fate of all the past alchemist, warning against any attempt. The book also cautioned that human transmutation was considered illegal under the national law of Amestris, but that wasn't what worried Ed. He'd always had more faith in their ability than Al, but if something by some awful miracle did go wrong, he might die alongside his mother. Worse— Al could be the one caught up in the rebound and die for their miscalculations.

Just one more day, one more day and this would all be over. One more day and they could sleep soundly once more, knowing their mother was there to love and hold them and that nothing would be able to take her away from them ever again.

When Ed finally reached the end of the warnings, he sighed and shut the textbook, placing it back in its spot on the shelf and turned out the lamps, casting the entire basement in darkness and heading off to bed.

.oO0Oo.

It wasn't until several hours later that Ed was awoken to the soft sound of muffled cries. The moonlight shining in could only illuminate the wall opposite of that which the clock hung on, but the moon was high enough in the sky and Ed could tell that it was sometime deep into the night (or early in the morning depending on how you look at it) when the rest of the world sleeps.

Looking over at the bed beside his, Ed could tell that Al was curled up in a ball and has his quilt was pulled all the way up over his head to quiet the sounds he made.

"Al?" Ed called, but there was no reply. Instead, the cries stopped altogether and the room was pitched into complete silence.

"Al?" Ed called again, this time slightly louder, pretending like he had just assumed Al hadn't heard him the first time instead of going silent out of embarrassment.

Al turned over to face Ed, his body shifting under the covers. He pulled back the quilt revealing his face, the moonlight illuminating the tears on his cheeks like broken glass, completely visible even at the late hours.

"Sorry, Brother," he apologized, his voice broken from crying, which only served to break Ed's heart further.

Holding Al's gaze, Ed scooted back to the far side of his bed, his arms pulling the quilt up into the air expectantly. No words were needed as Al slipped out of his own bed and climbed into his brother's, Ed pulling his quilt over the both of them as they turned to face each other, their finger interlacing between them.

"Bad dream?" Ed asked as if he didn't already know the answer. This wasn't the first time Al had had a nightmare about the transmutation, but it would be the last.

"Yeah," Al said, slightly averting his eyes from Ed's.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really," Al replied, but hesitated for a moment. "I'm just— I'm just scared about tomorrow. I know we have everything right, we've done the calculations a million times over, but I'm afraid one of us will get hurt— or worse. One of us could die and it would—"

"Hey, hey stop that—" Ed interrupted in what he hoped came off as a calming voice. "There's no use thinking like that, it won't get you anywhere."

A look of desperation came over Al, an unmistakable anguish on his face. "I know that but— but I just want Mom back," and his voice broke on the final word as he once again began to weep.

Ed sat up, his back against his headboard, and he pulled Al up with him into his lap. Al placed in his face in Ed's shoulder, his little fingers fisting into Ed's pajama shirt as he continued to cry. Wrapping one arm around his brother's back and using the other to gently stroke Al's hair, Ed whispered all the words of comfort that he could remember his mother saying to him as a child into Al's ear.

"It's okay. You're going to be all right. I've got you. Nothing can hurt you, I promise."

They sat there together like that for a long time, Ed slightly rocking the both of them back and forth, the clock on the wall ticking on and on into the night.

Eventually the tremors that racked Al's boy stopped and so did the soft cries until Al was completely silent except for the sound of his breathing.

"Al?" Ed whispered, unsure whether his little brother was still awake or if he had fallen asleep in his arms.

"Yeah?" Al answered, his voice weak and his face still pressed into Ed's chest.

"Are you all right now?"

Ed felt Al nod against him.

"Then can we get back under the covers? It's getting kind of cold."

Al sat up, wiping his wet eyes and Ed's damp t-shirt with his hand, but to no success. He tried apologize, but Ed wouldn't hear any of it, telling Al that he was his big brother and that that's what he was there for. He pulled the quilt over them once more and left his right arm tucked around his little brother.

"You sure you're okay?" Ed whispered, and Al nodded again as reply.

After that they fell into a comfortable silence, Al looking up at the ceiling and Ed looking over at Al. For a while there was nothing but the sound of the clock and their breathing, but Ed knew Al was still awake.

Finally, Al flopped over to face Ed.

"I wish I never had to sleep again," he whispered, but his voice came out completely clear, every word uttered with perfect precision. It was a simple, irrational wish made in the heat of the moment after the stress of constant nightmares had become too much for the young boy to handle. The wish of a child.

Ed chuckled in agreement, "yeah, that would be nice. If we didn't have to sleep we would be so productive, we could get so much more done, it would be great."

"If we didn't have to sleep, there would never be any more dreams or nightmare," Al added, his voice sounding hopeful, the same kind of hopefulness that filled up his words when he talked about being with Mom again.

They both laid there for a moment indulging in the fantasy of no sleep. There was no downside to never having to sleep, it was a perfect life, but alas it wasn't reality and so it was pointless for them to dwell on such unachievable dreams.

"But we do have to sleep," Ed finally whispered, putting an end to Al's wishful thinking. "But things will be better when Mom's back. You won't have to be scared that something bad will happen during the transmutation anymore because it will already be over. She'll be here to protect us and she'll let us sleep in the big bed with her when we're scared. And, if Mom allows us to, we could probably stay up all night sometimes, though we would probably be so tired the next day that it wouldn't be worth it."

"I guess you're right. Tomorrow we'll see Mom again and everything will finally be perfect," Al said with a yawn and Ed laughed at the sound. With nothing left to add, Al closed his eye, "Goodnight, Brother."

"Goodnight, Al."

.oO0Oo.

It wasn't until a few years later that Al had recalled that memory, late into the night when they were back in Resembool for Ed to get his automail repaired. He was sitting at the end of his old bed, afraid that if he sat directly on it he would reshape the mattress permanently, and so he had resorted to sitting on the floor in the moonlight with his knees pulled to his chest as he waited for the morning sun to rise.

He was fourteen now, much older and more mature than he had been back when he was just a naive ten-year-old kid wanting to see his mother again. He had gone five years now without sleeping once, these lonely nights with nothing to do so much worse than any pathetic nightmare he had ever endured.

It had been stupid of him to wish such a thing, Al knew there was no true weight held in little wishes whispered in the dead of the night, but he still regretted wishing such things anyway.

"I wish I never had to sleep again," Al thought, was such a stupid thing to wish for. Because now he wished he could just lay down and sleep more than anything.

He would have given anything just to know a night's rest once more.