Not Much Time
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He never moved after he was diagnosed with the same disease his mother had, and he couldn't. The darkness was enveloping him and fast. His once golden orbs that were full of happiness and excitement had faded into a blank, unreadable state. His golden hair was lying out messily on his pillow. He hadn't had it in his usual braid for a week now, and he wouldn't have it up any time soon. In Ed's mind, he was nearing the end and quickly. His normally tanned skin was pale, and his cheeks were flushed red. He had a cold, wet cloth lying on his forehead, trying to lower his temperature, but that was doing nothing of the sort. A quilt had been moved up to his bare chest, and he had a throw-up bucket on the left side of his head.

Ed swallowed his spit nervously. His throat was sore from vomiting so much, but his stomach wouldn't let him taste or feel the last of it, not yet. The blonde opened his tired eyes and he put his automail hand to his head, removing the cloth, and throwing it to the floor. His chest rose uneasily and he started to shiver. He felt like he was freezing, but he was burning up. Ed started to choke from lack of air. He felt as though he was under water, and he was being held down, unable to come up and grasp a breath. Out of his coughing fit, he felt the vomit rush up from his stomach, to his throat, and to his mouth. He quickly grabbed the bucket beside him, and hurled. His stomach gave a violent retch and he felt dizziness come in. Ed's heart raced and with his left hand, he grabbed his abdomen.

Right now, he felt so weak and helpless, like he was a tool that had been used past it's time. Ed gave another violent thrust forward, almost making him land in the puke from before. His stomach growled before it finally settled again, and he put the bucket to the side, his hands shivering the whole way. Ed rolled over to his right side and a pain jolted up through him. He was on the verge of tears it was hurting so bad. He just wanted it to end, and soon. He wanted the darkness to take him.

Ed was finally giving up his battle, and so easily too. He had never taken a rain check, especially not with the Homunculi, so why was he doing it now? Ed looked at his automail. At least he had gotten Al's body back, and he had crossed back over to his home world safely, or so he thought.

Ed's stomach gave another violent lurch, and he feared he would be too late to grab the bucket, but he only dry heaved. Everything from the pit of his stomach up was gone. There was nothing else there, but emptiness. He dry heaved again, and again, and again until his throat was extremely sore beyond compare. The boy lay there in his death bed, hoping he could just leave, hoping it would all end. He wanted it to be over, and so badly too.

Al walked in, his hair framing his face. He looked so much like his elder brother now, and his voice had deepened. The 17 year old made his way over to the relative's side, and his grey eyes filled with sadness. Why couldn't it be him? He wanted the answer so badly, he needed it.

Ed slowly turned his head towards his brother, and he smiled a sad, faint smile. It seemed so distant to Al, as even trying to grab for it violently wouldn't be enough. A tear streamed down the younger brother's cheek, and he reached for the vomit filled bucket. He slowly made his way over to the sink, dumped it out, cleaned it, and returned it to Ed's side. It had been quiet between the two since Ed had come down with the illness, but was there anything to be said between the two? Was there any way of healing the dying teenager?

Al tugged at his red overcoat, at Ed's old red overcoat. He felt extremely weakened at the sight of his brother, and it brought back the image of his mom.

Now, here was Ed, lying in the same position, in a weak and fragile state. It seemed as if Al touched him, all the bones in his brother's body would break. "Brother…," Al whispered through his saddened thoughts.

What if Ed left Al here alone, left him here to suffer without any remaining family members? He quietly made his way out of the door. "I'll be outside if you need me brother…"

Ed looked at Al, his face reading no emotion other than pure pain. He nodded slowly and with that, Al exited. He hoped for everything he was worth that a walk would take his mind off of his brother, that he could exit the world for a while without going past the gate.

Ed stared at the fireplace in the corner, and he didn't know why. His eyes gazed through all the items sitting atop it. There were old family photos, and in the very center, was an angel with a cross. It was holding a small purple sash that said 'Jesus Christ' in it. The alchemist felt so confused it made him nauseous, and his stomach gave an intense grumble. Hunger was making its way through the boy's body, but if he ate, it would only make him sicker. Ed gripped the bare skin of his empty stomach, and hoped the feeling would go away, but it wasn't that easy, it never was.

He closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to get some well needed sleep, but they wouldn't shut. His body was aching for the rest, and for the peace that he just couldn't seem to grasp. Ed's eyes rimmed with tears, and he brought his hands up to his face to cry. The cool metal against Ed's heated skin seemed to soothe him at first and then his body shivered. The feeling of freezing came back to him, and he moved his hands to the quilt, pulling it up to his neck.

His lungs pumped the air out, but it seemed as though they just couldn't pull air in quickly enough. Ed started to have another coughing fit, but instead of coughing up vomit or dry heaving, he coughed up blood. He brought the bucket up to him, but he was too late. The crimson liquid from his abdomen stained the white blanket red, and he seen his reflection in the small pools of blood. For the first time since he was laid in the bed, he never did see how terribly he looked. His hair was somewhat matted, and his eyes had a black ring around them. He touched his pale cheek and the skin was so hot, so why was he so cold inside?

Ed put his fingers to the red fluid and he shivered. He wanted to throw up at the sight of his own blood, just like every time, but he couldn't on this one, very needed to stay down, time. He started to go into another violent, coughing frenzy, bringing up bile and blood. He grabbed the bucket and vomited until he thought there was nothing left, but more came up. It all came up and he continued to vomit until his throat felt like it was being stabbed over and over, with millions of swords.

That feeling of emptiness came into Ed, and he reached for his aching throat. With every ounce of strength he could muster up, Ed forced himself into a sitting position. Pain whaled through every joint in his body, and he felt as though he could scream, but he held it in.
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Al quietly walked through the cemetery, and headed towards his mom's grave. Neither he nor Ed had taken enough time to read the graves before hers, so Al took it among himself, and he did.

Adriana Simone

Cory Jacobs

Riley Asters

Nichole & Rickey Williams

Kylie McMinnville

Al felt tears roll to his eyes as he looked at some of the ages. Adriana was only 16, Riley was 9, and Kylie had only been 3. He wondered what could have happened that they would have died at such young ages.

He looked ahead and there was his mom's headstone. Al knelt down and he rubbed his fingers gently across the graveled stone. "Hey mom, it might not be much longer before you see brother… He has the same disease you did, and I've tried everything I could… He's just getting weaker by the day, and he has this cold touch to his skin… He's really pale, and I fear he might go at any moment… He continues to vomit and dry heave…. Mom, I don't know what I should do… I don't know how to help him, and I-I just need you to g-guide me…," Al sobbed.

Fresh, hot tears glided down Al's high cheek bones and he sniffled. It had been a long time since Al felt like he was only 5 years old, crying for his mom. He fell to the ground, the grass softening his landing. Al circled his arms around his head and legs, and continued to sob.

Al felt so alone and scared. He felt helpless against the disease that was taking his brother's life. He wanted so badly to take everything that had happened back. He wanted to go back to the armor if that meant seeing his brother up and happy. He wanted to see his brother smile a real, happy smile, not the distant sad one Edward had been giving. Alphonse needed to see his brother up and moving, and being the same stubborn, and high strong 18 year old he was. All of a sudden, the younger brother felt like he was being held in a warm embrace, and he heard his mother singing a song she used to sing when he was crying. Then, he was sure, he heard her singing. "My little baby, please don't cry
you're in my arms, I'll hold you tight
I will keep you close to me
Please don't cry, it cuts me deep

Alphonse, my son
it's gonna' be alright
I'm holding you in my arms tonight

Dry those tears,
'cause I'm right here,
you'll never be alone
you'll never be on your own… Shh, Al… It's going to be okay…," a voice cooed.

Al recognized that voice as his mother's and he looked up. Right behind him, holding him, was the spirit of his mom. She had a bluish-white tint to her, but she was smiling. "M-mom, is t-that you?"

She pulled Al closer to her. "Yes Alphonse… it's me…"

For the first time in a week, Alphonse felt like he wasn't alone, and he truthfully wasn't. His mom was holding him close, and she was soothing him. Al wanted to keep crying, but that song pulled him away from it. Instead, he snuggled closer to the figure of his mother, and she stroked her silken hands through his long, golden hair. Her eyes focused at her son's saddened form, and she was so glad that she was allowed to come back one more time to comfort him, just be there for him. That was all he needed.
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Ed kept one hand on his bed and the other on his stomach. The alchemist knew he was getting weaker by the minute, and there was nothing he could do to slow it down, or stop it. Ed knew he was losing the battle he had tried so desperately to stop when he was 17, but now it had just as well paralyzed his broken down body. He felt his stomach rumble and he thought he was going to puke again, only to be greeted by another empty feeling, and a knock at the door.

Ed tried to holler, but all that came out was a hoarse whimper. All he could do to get the door opened was get up, and open it himself. Ed mustered up every bit of strength from his body and stood as quickly as possible, only to be greeted by another dizzy sensation running through his body. Carefully making his way across the floor, came another gentle knock. The brown, hardwood floor was cool on his feet, and his hand reached for the door knob. Twisting it, Ed pulled it open to reveal Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye, standing behind her commanding officer.

All of a sudden, Ed's eyes blurred and he collapsed. "EDWARD," Roy screamed.

He caught the boy in his arms, and pulled him into his chest. He was hot to Roy's touch, and the Colonel could already see what was going on. His youngest and best friend was deathly ill, and he knew Edward didn't have much longer.