Title: Until He Comes Home

Author: NewMoonFlicker

Summary: "In that moment, he was right there with me, he was alive and safe, and that was all that mattered." {Alphonse POV, post-anime/manga, ONLY brotherly love}

Pointless Rambling: -_-" I'm sorry, I've been completely out of luck these last several months it seems. My love and apologies go out to my dear friends who have been so horribly neglected by me – I think about you all the time! I've just literally had no life. This little story I'm about to present to you has been a treacherous and beyond annoying project. I have written it and rewritten it and rewritten it yet again, stared at it for a week, edited, cut out half of it, rewrote yet again, watched it sit for five months gathering virtual dust on my hard-drive, somehow survived said hard-drive crashing, and yanked it back out three days ago to finish it and move on. I don't think it's any great work of writing (though, looking back with it complete, I really needed to write it), but this ended up being more of both a long-withheld vent and a need for some brotherly love, and I found my long-sought cure, at least in part, in Ed and Al.

Warnings: Inspired by true events. POV. References to heavy wartime in Drachma. Alphonse always struck me as a very descriptive thinker, and so most of this story is in the introspective. It's angsty, it's bittersweet, total brotherly love (NOT elricest!), freakishly expressive, probably some OOCness because I'm not very nice to Al in particular here - making him go through what I went through - nor did I let Pinako be very kind for her little appearance. I am a very visual person – and yes, this is a warning! Fear the power of a Thesaurus!

Music Suggestions While Reading: Definitely "Why" and "Like A Knife" by Secondhand Serenade, Paul Alan's "To Bring You Back", along with "A Beautiful Lie" and "The Story" by 30 Seconds To Mars. I finished this story while listening to them, they got me through it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Full Metal Alchemist or the National Guard military base close to my home where this story is based from. All I own are the memories of what happened, and what I wish had happened.

It's a one-shot I've been thinking about for a long time and kind of a "sneak-peak" for the story I've been working on like a mad-man for the last year or two. This story and that one have just about nothing to do with each other directly in relation, but the inspiration and drive is the same.

For Don, my nii-san.
This story was inspired by the day he left home for Iraq almost five years ago.
… I wrote this for him, even if he'll never read it, and never know how much that day made an irreversible change in me.

Obviously, the original story has been heavily changed to benefit an FMA world and understanding,
suited to fit the relationship that is Edward and Alphonse. Only the narrowest foundation of it is truly my memory.

The first thing I noticed about this place was the smell. It was heavy with the scent of human presence, thick with gunmetal and oil and musk and salt.

The warehouse was enormous, though I had seen the likes of it before. The ceiling towered over my head three or four stories high, made of sheet metal and bolted to a heavy steel frame. Cloudy, scratched windows lined the walls, the doors wide enough for three automobiles and tall enough for a train to pass through with relative ease.

Not that it would have been possible today. Today, the warehouse was full and rippling to its fringes with military soldiers. It had been rare occasions indeed that I had seen so many together for one purpose, State Alchemists and foot soldiers alike. They lined the walls as closely as the windows, filled the compound nearly to capacity. It was a sea of navy blue edged in white, noisy and in motion. Several soldiers were running about on various errands while others lounged, spoke with comrades or family, stared off through the windows, even a few attempted to sleep. Equipment, travel bags, and weaponry accompanied nearly every single one. The loud chatter and yells of well over seven-hundred voices filled this contained area so thickly I feared the pressure would blast through the roof. It was stronger than it looked though, and stood firm. The chaos was thick, but directed with a relatively single mind and well contained.

Outside, I could see a vast, open field of paved cement and the long train beyond that. The train was facing roughly North, toward the mountains, the still rising sun at its side.

Toward war.

It was almost time. Today was the day these soldiers, seven-hundred and thirteen combat trained-and-ready specialists, would leave together for Drachma's battle-heavy border.

I was a black mar in this sea of blue; of the few that did not fit the physical description of a soldier, though I had seen plenty of a soldier's life to understand it in such a way that nearly made me one of them.

Brother had said no. It was too soon, and I was a long way from healed right now.

I glanced at my hand a moment, flexed the fingers and watched the pale flesh stretch over my knuckles like canvas. Even that simple movement cost me an effort that made no sense to me still, and I was forced to agree. I could not handle the strain and demand of a soldier's life.

But that didn't mean I had to appreciate the inadequacy of my present circumstances.

I was standing a little ways away from our little group, not really in the mood for conversation. The intensity of the sounds and smells around me were starting to put me a little on edge. Four months now since I had been returned to my body, and I was still so oversensitive to a point that it bothered me heavily. It had taken nearly a month before I could let Winry hug me without flinching. I almost expected this to be as trying as it was. Even still, I tried as hard as I could to appear like it wasn't bothering me, and stood as straight and tall as a soldier myself.

With the madness of noise and conversation, I had long since given up on trying to join in. At this distance, I contented myself with just observing as I was accustomed to; taking in all I could. Our group was incredibly small in this place of such great activity; Pinako, Winry, and a few of our neighbors stood in a tight circle in the mass of military soldiers, lingering while time still allowed it.

He was not helping; he had completed his assigned task nearly an hour ago, and was taking this much desired time to be with us.

My brother made a fabulous distraction from the nerve-fraying racket. He stood between Winry and our neighbors, talking and even laughing a little. He blended well with the other soldiers for once, blue and white rather than black and red his colors today. I still don't know what General Mustang did to get Edward into his military duds. The attire looked almost strange on him, another unfamiliar aspect to add to the list of things that unsettled me about today. However, I knew he was only wearing them for the sake of occasion and had smuggled his old red duster and black leather away in his pack for later. He looked almost exactly the way I had always seen him; strong and proud and daring, with the tiniest clip of his old smugness reaching out through the bleakness of the morning.

I knew had it been up to him, he would have said his good-byes at home rather than here, where it would not have been so difficult, but Winry and Pinako had insisted on coming.

I had as well.

Brother… you actually thought you would be able to leave without us here? You thought you could just slip away, disappear into the intensity of the rising sun, unnoticed?

Not that I should have been surprised. It would not have been the first time he had tried to do everything alone. Last time though, I had at least had some leverage on him; now, I had none. I could do nothing but watch him walk away this time, knowing he wouldn't be back home when nightfall came.

I fingered loose hair back out of my eyes, silently musing. A few days ago or even this morning it would have been impossible to dwell on this way of thinking, the intents of these thoughts too unforgiving to handle rationally. It quite possibly still was too soon to deliberate over it, but they all seemed to take on a life of their own as I stood entirely motionless to observe.

The world suddenly seemed different to me. Larger, muted, its colors not so easy to either distinguish between nor define, the languages far more grand, its hatred and love far more ugly and beautiful. I watched Edward, Winry, and Pinako all deep in their conversation, a few pieces of the complicated all, and even against my will could not help but be subjective in my opinion and the reality I could not ignore further. I could only watch him, the way he would smile or quirk his head or use his hands and wonder at the sight; to see this living, breathing body full of so much life and spirit and dreams… and who could want to take that away? I was not sheltered from the cruelty of the world, I had personally witnessed more corruption than I cared to dwell on, and yet… I could remember very little, if ever, of fearing for his life or my own before now. Not like this.

I watched him kneel down and speak to our neighbor's little eight-year-old son Warren, and within moments had the child giggling and nodding at whatever he had chosen to say, animating words with his hands and face. Memory dredged a long past image of his face, drawn and tight and in such pain, drenched in his own blood from a near-fatal wound to his side. I tried to place the two images side-by-side, but I couldn't make them fit together. It all felt too unreal, too incomprehensible, too complex to exist in the life of just one person even when I knew firsthand how much it did actually belong. Somehow, the prospect of being killed before had not seemed as important as sticking together and moving forward, as fixing what we had broken, that our lives did not often seem to be in the very real danger of extinguishing completely. Hurt, tormented, lost even… but never just gone, blown out like a delicate light of a candle. Perhaps that was the same naivety that had given us the will to start our long journey six years ago, but age had taught me what I had not understood as a child, and having cheated death twice in my life already since then, I couldn't go back to feeling that convinced. I had sacrificed blind confidence for knowledge and experience.

And now, the world had turned into something capable of taking my brother away from me, and not giving him back.

I felt my face fall a little at the thought, these expressions of a nightmare that had not manifested in more than the whispers and shadow until now taking further shape. The hairline crack had twisted the mask of my indifference, my mask of calm, and it was that moment that he decided to glance at me, as if to pointedly wonder why I was standing alone and not with everyone else. And my eyes betrayed me, sinking into the depths of my pain just long enough for him to notice. Betrayed. I had sworn to myself this would not happen. He could not know.

I adjusted my gaze with a light, insignificant toss of my head, as though the light touch of the hair on my nose had bothered me and nothing more. It worked, for the time being at least; his gaze passed me on with one last searching, concerned look, and turned back to the people he had been engaged in conversation with.

Everything was nearly ready and a general stillness was overtaking the crowd, as they intended to be gone in less than fifteen minutes. Leave, and likely not return until next summer at the soonest.

His attention was off me again, and I could breathe a little easier. Not talking to him, barely looking at him, and I could almost convince myself that nothing was going to change. That in just a minute we would walk out of this warehouse together and go home. That I would wake up tomorrow, wander into the kitchen and find him there like I had this morning, help him make breakfast. He would still be there. I couldn't linger on the truth, what I knew behind the lies I told myself, because the lies kept me in control. Every time I looked at him, dressed in his military outfit and in active conversation I was not following, and my breath would snag sharply, my eyes would burn, and I would remember… that he was leaving. He was leaving for the border to the North of Amestris, to war. This was different than all the other military campaigns he had gone on before. Battle had already taken hundreds of lives, including State Alchemists.

This time, he was going without me.

I clenched my eyes shut for several seconds. I didn't understand it, I couldn't accept it. It was never supposed to be this way. This slow crawl of his pressing departure was a kind of torture I could not describe.

I made valiant attempts to just stay away from all those familiar faces at first. I slowly circled the building once, then twice, watching everyone and taking in everything, and yet the memory of doing so is little more than a blur. No one paid attention to a single thing I did, too busy with their own preparations and drawn-out farewells.

Some of them made more of an impression on me as I passed, untold stories written in the simplest of their actions. I passed a Lieutenant, a father, hugging his daughter goodbye with his wife standing close by. The little girl could not have been more than three or four. Not far from them there was a field medic, a mother, kissing her year-old twin sons in parting as they slept. The silent strain was written all over her face. Parents, relatives, brothers, sisters, friends… people that under different circumstances may not have been so single-minded, but this gathering had given us all common ground to stand on.

And finally, I wandered slowly around an older gentleman in deep conversation with a young soldier. The resemblance between them was striking, nearly identical in such a way that made my heart twinge painfully. The older man had his hand wrapped around the younger's shoulder with such an honored, pride-filled gaze as they spoke.

I bit my lip, some kind of a bittersweet reflection filling me as I softly observed their interaction. What I would not have given for any memory of my father like that… what I would not have given for my father to be here and help me see off Brother… for Brother to have that kind of support…

As if to make further mockery of my pain, I found myself quickly drawn back into his unknowing company. His back was to me now, but he seemed distracted and kept glancing around the crowd, not as talkative as before. He pocketed one hand, shifted his weight from his right to his left, studying the faces within his field of vision whenever the attention of the people around him was on someone else.

Guilt welled up inside me. My avoiding him was making me sick at heart, and it seemed he had more than noticed my absence. We may not have parents here, either of them, to see him off, but he still had me… and right now my place was not to be ten feet behind him, hidden in the thick crowd and noise.

I couldn't take this withdrawing anymore, I wanted – needed – to be close to him. Silently, almost invisibly, I crept up behind him, and when he took no note I dropped my forehead to rest against the back of his shoulder. He hummed and then chuckled a moment in surprise as he recognized my presence, whispered my name in soft acknowledgement, and then turned back to the others once more, even without my saying so knowing that I had no voice in me right then.

So, I didn't say anything. I was almost overwhelmed with this bone-deep, aching weariness the instant my head came into contact with his steady form; my eyes now shut in tired surrender. I let my head rest heavily against him, soaking in the warmth of the back of his shoulder and listened to the sound of his voice as it rumbled through him and projected to me in gentle quivers and pulls. I could not register words or tone as conversation continued to float around me, could barely register the uncomfortable feeling forming in the pit of my stomach, though somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was there.

In that moment, he was right there with me, he was alive and safe, and that was all that mattered.

Please… don't take him away from me yet…

It was not to last long though. Hours or seconds later and he was bouncing his shoulder lightly, calling out my name. "Al…"

The activity of the warehouse had shifted, everyone had come to more of a single-minded attention. I heard it a moment later. Train hissing and whistling. A warning call sounded throughout the warehouse. It was almost boarding time.

And the spell was broken, always too short-lived.

I lifted my head from his shoulder and stepped away, and did not dare chance glancing back in his direction as I did. Distracted by what was outside, he did not notice my escape. But as I walked away, I caught a glance of Winry's face and clenched internally with empathetic pain. She looked as though her composure was ready to break in half.

When I was again several feet away, I chanced a glance back toward the familiar group. It had not taken Edward long at all to notice and react to what I had just seen. Edward had wrapped his arms around Winry, held her close to his chest and his heart. His wife of just days under a year and after a morning with a set, controlled face Winry was in barely restrained tears now, in that painful misery and fear; afraid for him and for this deployment that was so unlike all the other missions she had waited for him to come from. And pride. Heavens above, how she loved him; loved him in that deep, silently tender way that was her own.

They were all emotions I understood too well and respected, and another (though small) reason why I kept my distance. It was not my right to intrude on them, I loved them both too much to do so; and while it cut me painfully to stand alone and just watch, I stood away from them.

I hated this weakness in me, this longing to be at his side and the fear for his safety. I cursed my hypocritical cowardice; I had never felt quite like this before and it made no sense.

I was suddenly, instantly jerked from my thoughts and observations; they had been stolen from my control and given to someone else. A small but firm hand had latched onto my elbow, and I was being hauled farther away from the others. I looked to my right to see who, and Pinako was at my side. I saw her face, and I clenched internally again, this time with fear. She was very, very upset. Hardly a safe listening distance from the others, she turned around and glared at me with a harshness unlike her and it made my quivering stomach drop below the floor.

"Granny-…"

"How could you do that?" She hissed at me sharply. "Look at Winry! She's in tears and you can't handle acting like an adult? I can't believe you—"

Her angry criticism continued, but her voice faded away to little more than muffled anger in my ears; I couldn't register words again. What I had caught, however, was more than enough to ruin what control I thought I had left. I didn't understand what I had done but I suddenly, painfully could not breathe. Had I known I was this close to ripping through my own façade, I would have left much sooner. Much to my dismay and without even my consent or allowance, the hopelessly weak tears I had worked so hard to hold back burned their way to the front and fell down my face. I turned away, caught on a low sob I could only half-choke back before she could detect my weakness in a way that would manifest in her tone, and escaped to the wall of the warehouse. I tried violently to block out her heated words even as they followed me, nipping at my heels with a heavy growl, and knew even those few words were going to haunt me for a long time.

What had I done? I didn't understand what I had done – I had hardly spoken to my brother since arriving here, I had left him and Winry alone. My only intrusion on any part of his attention had been so short and insubstantial it could hardly be called an intrusion at all. But still, with how ill at heart I already felt, sickening shame crept in from every corner of my being and clogged my heart.

I glanced back in a pained instant, and found myself alone. She had not followed me, and had already rejoined our little group without so much as a glance in my direction.

Look at you; you can't handle acting like an adult… You can't handle it… You can't handle this… stop being so selfish, don't you realize what you've done? Winry is his wife now, you can't imagine what kind of pain she's going through watching him leave, and you're making it worse…

Her words contorted and twisted into so many different emotions and the whispered observations made behind my back, each one like a beating, harsh and unforgiving and angry.

I… don't understand?

I looked away, my eyes clenching shut with a kind of disgraced agony I could not articulate. It was too painful to even look at her, to hear those hated words and turn my love for my brother into something insubstantial, almost foul. I avoided every glance and kept my eyes adverted. I could no longer even look at him, my dear brother… who had apparently missed that entire exchange.

It was no longer even my right.

I had failed my promise to myself, that I would be strong through this, that I wouldn't break down and be a burden, that I would step up and be the support. …Where did I go wrong?

I folded my arms and leaned back against the cement wall, my face toward the ground, hidden behind my hair. And for a few moments I let myself cry, savored the bitter feeling of every tear as it slid down my nose to cast itself into the air and hit the ground, let them all cut my shame a little deeper. And I hated myself for every single one, for not being strong as I knew I could have been, for not being able to stand by my brother, support him, tell him how proud I was of him, for hiding when everyone wanted me to stand tall. I must have been projecting quite a stance, because every person within ten feet of me found themselves wandering (even unconsciously) further away.

I pressed shaking fingertips into my eyes as if to shove them further into my skull, to make them disappear so I couldn't cry anymore and I couldn't watch him leave, so hard they twinged painfully. My intake of breath was sharp and clipped. It wasn't supposed to hurt like this.

Why was it so wrong for me to hurt the way I was? Was it so wrong for me to just want to be close to him because I was losing him for a while, to a task in which he could never return from? I had never tried to overstep his marriage and the trust he had worked so hard and long to build. But it hurt… it hurt to be in this place where I sometimes seemed to not belong anywhere or with anyone. He may be Winry's husband, but he's still my brother, my dear brother. For so many years he was my only blood family, my home, my best friend, even my lifeline at times; the one for whom I would have freely given my life to save. And I was sick of pretending like today didn't bother me enough to openly care, the way Winry could so freely, because watching him leave was like watching my heart irreparably tear itself in half and no one seemed to understand that anymore. I silently cried for every selfish thing I could not say, for a moment in such heartbroken misery I wondered if the pain of it would ever leave.

I was pathetic. I pressed my eyes into my sleeve, trying to force back the hot lump in my throat. Now that the tears had started, I could not make them stop. My body shuddered under the strain of willing myself back under control, but the frayed edges of indifference refused to take me back behind its cloak to hide from the world. No wonder he was going without me. I was of no use to him anymore.

What am I even doing? If I would have known coming would leave me feeling this inconsequential, I would not have even bothered getting out of bed this morning…

I'm so sorry, brother…

I don't know how long I stood there, avoided and unnoticed with my dark thoughts and self-hate. It could have been a minute, it could have been an eternity. I may never know. Time was my enemy now, it was dragging out my torment and hastening what I dreaded. I wanted to slip through the hard steel against my back, disappear into the same sunrise, and not come back until it was safe again. The desire was so intense that soft blue alchemic light burst faintly from my fingertips, anticipating a child's-play transmutation I simply lacked the energy and the concentration to do.

Staying was torture, but leaving was unacceptable.

So I stayed. And I waited for the world to stop.

OoOoOoOoO

Having quickly grown accustomed to being ignored, hearing human presence draw close by threw me off my guard. I made to look up, staring as a pair of greased black boots came to a stop hardly a comfortable distance far enough away, ready to tell whoever this was to just leave me alone…

My private solitude intruded upon, my thoughts interrupted, my guard all but gone. But this time, if even possible, it was more painful than before.

"-not like you to brood. You've been around me too much… Al?"

I glanced up through my hair, straight up into the eyes of the one that had come so close to me, and my airways closed off again. Edward was standing there, his humor gone, looking at me with such fierce concern in every line of his face. And he was alone, the others were a ways off and still talking as adults are wont to do. Soldiers were gathering at the front of the building, equipped and waving their last good-byes. I couldn't take it, I was holding him back again and I turned away, hurting even more as the action tore into my own soul.

He ignored my pitiful brush-off and gathered my face in his hands, made me to look up at him. I couldn't help it, my face shattered under his concern, and the dam in me broke. What was the matter with me? The shame returned in all of its eating wrath and I turned away, trying to break his growing influence that held me there.

Noting how out of control I was, he tried calm me down, "Hey, hey…"

"I'm s-sorry, Brother… I d-didn't want…" I couldn't finish. It was a lie, and he would have known it.

I should have left when I had the chance. He should not have to deal with me as well. After all he'd already dealt with, from even just today, I should not have added to his list of things he needed to take care of. He was probably stressed and worn out from the planning and the organizing and the meetings and the prospects that lay ahead, probably looking forward to a quiet train ride for the next several hours and not have a crying wife or little brother to fuss over, but procure that time to just take care of himself for once, as he should. No, I wasn't going to take that away from him.

He didn't say a word at first, understanding my behavior completely it seemed, in his own calculating way. He almost seemed to know why... and who could know for sure, perhaps he did.

He shushed me gently, and let go of my face only long enough to open his arms. "Come here…" he invited quietly, and falling back into them was more instinct than actual thought.

"You think I would leave you… without at least saying goodbye? Come on, little brother… you know me better than that." His voice was muffled in my hair.

Something in my worn out brain just shut down. I couldn't fight his hold, couldn't find the desire to try, and so I stopped trying to and froze, uncomprehending and motionless as he enfolded me comfortably into his arms. I felt as feeble and shriveled as I ever had, like an old man with weary and arthritic bones with his raw and overwhelming power surrounding me. It didn't matter how hard I tried to match his strength as I knew I once could have, he was so much stronger now.

"That's not fair…" I whispered into his shoulder, trying to bury the parasitic pain and failing miserably. But now, something entirely new assaulted my senses. I was suddenly so acutely aware of him, of his strained breathing and the way he silently fought the pull for tears (always so much better at it than I), of his steady heartbeat and thrumming pulse, of his voice now more intense than before as it rumbled directly into me, speaking words I did not quite grasp in a soft tone I would so desperately miss. There was so much life, warm and clear and all-encompassing. And I was lost.

So I just let him hold me. I let him let me be the weakness. As if moving of their own accord, one of my arms wrapped around his back, the other fisted into the cloth on his shoulder. I pulled closer, burying my head into the hollow of his throat, inhaling the scent of him, filled with the sudden desperate need for his physical contact; one that had not been duplicated since the day my body and soul had again reunited under this same power. He was the only one who truly understood my need for this, how much I still needed to be reassured of the senses I had lost for so long and only barely regained. It was a pull he nearly matched on his own. He had told me that once, not long after he kept his promise to me, from the time I had first grasped his arm while sucking in the first few deep breaths of a new life.

But no, this was not a place I could just comfortably stay in anymore. Not after I had been so callously damaged and my intentions questioned, this was not safe like it had been. I feared what the others might say to me or about me later, as Pinako had done just a few minutes ago, afraid and sick of the names and opinions and the act like an adult and I just couldn't do it right then. It was a double-edged sword I did not have the talent to wield, and for two seconds I could find no desire to pretend.

I wasn't used to this. I wasn't used to him not being there. Maybe the others could handle that, but it wasn't so easy for me to accept, and nor did I wish to become accustomed to it. He had been my stability in a destructive, goal-pursuing life, ever a constant in the chaotic flux. His very presence brought me peace; even now I felt myself calming a little. My jaw clenched, discontent and so tired. I did not want him to go without me. Because going without me meant that I couldn't help him, I couldn't watch his back, I couldn't be there when he needed me or when I needed him. He only held me tighter, even as I thought the words, and I poured my heart out in wordless explanations for him.

… Do you understand what I mean when I say that I need you to live?

I hated that I was being left behind. I hated that I was now considered vulnerable because what housed my soul now was no longer steel. I didn't understand why I even cared what other people thought, but I felt like I had been so suddenly broken and split into too many pieces and I wasn't even sure where they all had fallen.

My bony fingers grasped as tightly as they could into the heavy cloth of his jacket. I didn't even know what I wanted anymore, either option pulled on me too strongly; I was so torn. I could barely let myself indulge in my selfishness and need for a moment and let him into the understanding of my breaking heart; wondering if he could ever possibly sate the pain in the few moments he had left, wondering if I even deserved to ask for his help.

My brother seemed to sense this and nudged my face into his shoulder, cradling my head with one ungloved hand.

You know my selfish thoughts, and still, you remain?

I choked a little and pressed my eyes into his collar, one confession at a time. "I promised myself I wouldn't do this…"

"It's okay…" he murmured, so softly I only heard for the proximity we now shared, "I've got you…."

Even in just the listening to the tone he used, he sounded different, altered just a little from the way he had been acting all morning. This was not his soldier front or his husband persona anymore; he was just my big brother right then. The one who would get into a fist-fight the ugliest bully to back me up, who would spend hours flipping through alchemy books and point out some new theory he liked, who would stay up until three in the morning to talk about his greatest dreams, who had swallowed his pride and held me when Mom wasn't there anymore to open up her arms when we were still just kids. There was the needed understanding; empathy given and found mutually shared. Even though we were brothers with very different views and understandings, there were still rare moments when I could look at him and find my heart mirrored in his face, hidden in the edges of his eyes. This was one of those few times.

His head found a place against the side of my own, gently urging me more upright. "I'm sorry Al…"

That older brother calm was creeping back into him, the little piece of him that had been missing all morning; something that slowly brought him back to my level, or drew me up to his. The kind of softness that would still filter through his indignant façade for just a few moments when he was visiting Mom's grave, or waiting to fall asleep after a long day, or caught in a thoughtful muse about anything and nothing at all. That softness that had stayed with him through all he had been through, after all he had given up and given away.

He seemed to note the difference in his own actions. "You're just never going to let me shut down, are you?"

I snorted, even though it hurt. "How can I… when you keep figuring me out?"

He wasted no words with promises he wasn't sure he could keep, or reassurances that everything would be fine, because it wasn't just going to be fine. It had never been that easy, and neither of us expected it to start doing so then. But for that instant, I knew he understood. And it felt so good to be understood. Forget height, forget callousness, forget the guilt and opinions and worry; he was just my brother right then. It was just him and me. The way it should be, and the way it would remain.

My hold on him grew lax and he retreated half a step away from me, but when I looked up at him, he dropped his forehead to rest against my own. "You're such an idiot…" his voice was rough, but the words were laced with the friendly banter I knew so well.

Only Edward could turn what should have been an insult into an affectionate compliment.

"I learned from the best." I returned in kind, somehow managing a little grin. I felt a little better. Not really happy, but calmer, a little more in control; enough at least to get me through. The back of his hand brushed my cheek, took away the tears.

"I don't even want to know how much taller you're going to be when I come home…" He heaved a sigh that told me how hard he was trying, while noting that I was almost eye-to-eye with him now.

Military blue was fast disappearing from the warehouse; most of the hundreds that had been inside were now in the train. He really was out of time now.

Needing to speak the words I had honored since I was a child, but never, to memory, had ever told him, I whispered up to him, "I'm so proud of you…."

All Ed could do was smile painfully over his strained sigh, all the answer I needed. He offered no goodbye now. He kissed my forehead like the father to me he had become, ruffled my hair like the brother he had always been. Then, letting go of my hand and taking up his rucksack, he turned and walked away like the soldier he had now been called upon to be. As I watched him walk away, it was as if he were taking pieces of me with him, but in return had left little shards of himself.

As he joined the last of the crowd boarding the train, my hand finally dropped back to my side, fingers curling into tight fists of their own accord. It took all of my strength to not follow, my body resisting the natural instinct to fill the empty space by his side. This felt so familiar… but it was all wrong at the same time.

With only a handful of soldiers at his back, Edward turned back at the last moment and waved wide and long at the on-looking crowd. His idiosyncratic grin was back; edged in calm reassurance and that self-confidence that had gotten him into more than one brawl and through more than one long night of slipping hope. And then, all too soon, his arm withdrew and he ducked into the train, out of sight.

Brother…

A few moments after he disappeared into the train, a warm presence wandered up to my side and an arm wrapped loosely around my shoulders and neck from behind. I glanced behind and found Winry, her eyes bright with still unshed tears and she smiled at me softly, giving my shoulders a gentle squeeze.

As the train whistled and hissed and the great wheels began to creak and turn, I twisted around and wrapped one arm around her back. We didn't move again until the train was out of sight.

o-O-o-O-o

I rose before the sun the day after we returned home.

It was not because I was particularly excited to go greet the day, but more due to how sick I was of staring at my wall. More often than not when I did drift off, my dreams were not the kind I wished to escape to. I supposed, with time, this would eventually pass me by, but that time was certainly not now. So when the first rays of dawn began to change the color of my room, I kicked off my blanket and headed down to the kitchen.

Knowing Winry would destroy me if I didn't eat, I made myself a quick breakfast and headed outside to the front porch, wanting to watch the sunrise.

Down on the last cement step of the porch, nearly hidden behind the huge automail sign, I found a good object for diversion; the newspaper. I dragged it back up to the porch and freed it slowly of its rubber tie, distracted by nothing in particular. It uncurled itself in the end and slapped quietly open on the floor next to me.

The front page was bold with the news of yesterday's soldiers, currently now well into the North. I picked it up and skimmed through the article, glancing sadly at the pictures of soldiers and families bidding their farewells. It continued farther than the front page, and I turned to the next.

And nearly choked on my toast in disbelief.

Brother!

Among the continued article, a reporter had taken and included two pictures of Edward into the story, the first of him with Winry. I hadn't even realized or noticed any cameras the day before, but then again, I suppose that shouldn't have come as much of a surprise. With Winry, my brother looked as solid and strong as he ever had been, his arms wrapped around his dear wife and without words softly quieting her gentle tears. One of her hands had curled around his neck, the other wrapped around the back of his shoulder while holding an Amestris flag against it with shaking fingertips, held him as tightly and gently as she was physically capable.

My eyes stilled a moment in quiet understanding, bittersweet joy taking momentary control over me. Even if it was painful, there was no regret. No regret in loving, no regret in sense of duty. Despite her tears and fear, she believed he would come home.

There was a simple caption under them: "State Alchemist Edward Elric says goodbye to Winry Elric, his wife of nearly a year, before boarding the train to Fort Bliss."

And the one next to it…

This picture had been taken seconds before Edward left for the train. My forehead pressed into his, his eyes locked with mine. The tears I had cried lined my face in embarrassing trails of shadowed clear, my mouth set in a trembling but firm little smile. My head was at a slight angle to his, turned into him, and his hand was on my face… when he had gently brushed my tears away with a bare flesh hand. His eyes had softened differently, darker than normal, swirling and intense, glimmering gently just before he had let go.

I stood up, breakfast forgotten, and taking the newspaper with me walked over to the corner of the porch where the guardrail met the house. My arm found purchase against the edge, my forehead in turn found leverage on my arm. And directly in the light of the sun so I could see it better, I lost myself in that picture. For a moment all I could feel was that enveloping shelter, my peace again restored. I could almost feel him there in front of me, the same intense vigor and same brotherly devotion and the same tangible realness of him that I felt I had in too many ways been denied for a lifetime or more…

I didn't even know the tears had come again until one hit the paper and dampened it several shades darker.

Be safe, Brother… I'll be here until you come home.

The caption under the photo was simple: "Moments before boarding the train, Alphonse Elric says goodbye to his brother, State Alchemist Edward Elric, a final time."

Fin.

/ I just found out tonight that my big brother's brigade has been put on call and returning to Iraq within the next year, he as a field medic for the National Guard. My mom doesn't believe he's going to come back if he goes out again. If you pray for or support the troops, please keep him and the others in your thoughts. Thank you so much for reading!/