Disclaimer: I don't own the world of FullMetal Alchemist: Hiromu Arakawa is the rightful creator of this amazing universe and the beautiful characters that inhabit it.

A/N: Originally, I had planned to post this on the 25th, the second anniversary of my being on ; however, my plans have changed, and so I'm posting it several days early. Recently, I rewatched Brotherhood, and while I was still in the early episodes, the idea for this story popped into my head. It took about three times to get it right, but I'm happy with the version you see below, and I hope you will be too. Just a note: while this can take place in either the manga or the Brotherhood universe, a specific scene I alluded to is taken from Volume 11, Chapter 43, Page 59 of the American addition.

I am leaving this marked "In-Progress" for now, as I have a second chapter in mind, but I'm not sure when I'll have time to work on it. Enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you thought ;)

***Re-updated as of 9/28/13***

StarKatt427

"What's it like?"

It was late into the night—early morning, just after one—when this quiet question was spoken; quiet, and yet Alphonse responded to it as if it had been a shout rather than the barely audible whisper it really was, especially since he had thought Edward to be asleep. He'd been drifting again, lost in the torrent of thoughts and memories that now came along with the darkness of night and the silence of three sleeping humans, being the only one who no longer required such rest. The words jerked him from whatever dormancy he had slipped into, the same quiet, drifting sensation he'd experienced every night for the last two weeks.

Fourteen days since the failed Transmutation, fourteen days since they had been broken, irrevocably altered, fourteen days since Alphonse had slept or cried or ate or had been able to feel anything, fourteen days since he'd lost his body and Edward had lost his arm and leg. Up until just recently, it had been near impossible to coax anything vocal out of Edward, and all Alphonse had been able to do was watch his brother recede further and further inside himself, bright topaz eyes dimming to hooded brass, and there had been nothing, absolutely nothing, he could say to save Edward from the torments that plagued him. Most of the time, the older boy hadn't even glanced his way, and when he did force himself to look at Alphonse, his eyes hooded and haunted and dark, he'd barely been able to make contact with the flashing red lights that were now Alphonse's eyes before he'd avert his gaze. Alphonse had known it was shame that prevented Edward from looking at him directly, but it had nearly broken his heart anyway, a feat he still did not understand entirely; how could he still feel such pain, knowing his brother could barely stand to look at him, when he no longer had an actual beating, pumping heart?

Then the Lieutenant Colonel came, and everything changed, because someone had finally gotten through to Edward, something Alphonse hadn't even been able to do, and he couldn't remember ever being so relieved, so proud, to see that familiar fire flare to life in his brother's eyes, see the sparks of hope and flamed determination. And when Edward had finally looked at him without lifeless eyes, gaze filled with something other than that blank, guilt-ridden emotion, devotion and strength and purpose shining through for the first time in days, in that moment, Alphonse had never loved him more.

That day, Edward had asked for automail, and in seven hours, Granny and Winry would prep him for grafting, beginning a process that he was determined to complete in one year's time.

The first step.

He lifted his helmet—head—and looked to Edward, his brother a horribly small shape against the bed sheets. Alphonse could barely remember a time when he hadn't been taller than him, but this new body was abnormally so, and he was still growing accustomed to how little his brother was compared to him now. "What's what like?"

Edward was silent as he stared up at the ceiling, and Alphonse waited, just like he always did, knowing he was trying to put his thoughts together. When his brother finally looked at where he sat against the wall, he was immediately conscious of the faraway gleam to Edward's eyes, something painful and longing in his gaze, an ache that ran deep within him and one Alphonse was afraid would never go away. "Being awake at night. Not sleeping. Ever. What's it like?"

Alphonse, not having known what to expect and certainly not anticipating that, could only stare at Edward in stunned silence as his brother watched him inquisitively. He tried to think of a response, but nothing coherent came to mind right away, and he finally looked down, something inside him pounding anxiously at those intent golden eyes. "It's hard to explain."

Edward tilted his head to face him better, gaze becoming almost desperate. "Try," he insisted, and though he did so gently, there was a sense of urgency in his voice that Alphonse couldn't understand.

In all honesty, it wasn't so much that it was difficult for Alphonse to explain, but it was that he didn't want to burden Edward with the knowledge. He was well aware that his brother believed the outcome of the disastrous Transmutation to be his fault, but what he didn't understand was that Alphonse had been right beside him the whole while and had chosen to be so willingly. He wasn't sure how Edward would handle the knowledge of what the lengthy, sleepless nights were like or if he even could handle it, still slightly fragile as he recovered from both the physical and mental trauma.

The only person Alphonse had ever mentioned it to was Winry, his head gripped in his hands that first night and fear coursing through him as his mind refused to shut down. With two weeks in his new armor body, he had slowly adjusted to no longer requiring things like food and sleep, but that didn't make it any easier. He missed being able to feel things, to smell and taste and feel when he touched, but more than anything, he missed being able to sleep; now, there was nothing but hours of solitude when his thoughts would slink away from the happy memories he tried to recall and trickle into blacker places, places he wished didn't exist within him, places that made him wonder if he would always been this massive, hulking beast that was unable to sense anything corporal.

He didn't want Edward to be overwhelmed by this.

But then he looked back into those eyes, into that face that was nearly impossible for him to ever refuse, and he was speaking, hesitant words that entered the world from a nonexistent mouth. "It's like…I feel tired, and I want to sleep, but I can't stop thinking and it…just…doesn't come."

That was the only way he could illustrate it, the one way he could say it and not upset Edward, without admitting just how isolating the long nights were, keeping the pain and fear and uncertainty to himself. The truth, but not the whole truth.

His brother watched him, eyes never wavering, but he didn't miss the flinch that tightened the skin around them. "Is it lonely?" Edward asked softly, more timid than Alphonse could ever remember.

For the first time in his short life, Alphonse considered lying to him, really lying to him; he had never contemplated this option before, but he knew Edward, and he knew he would blame himself because that was just who his brother was, willing to take on excessive pain when it wasn't required of him to. Alphonse had always been honest, almost to a fault, which was odd because he was a fantastic liar with most anybody; Edward, however, could see through practically any lie Alphonse directed at him. Still, he considered it for the pace of several heartbeats, even though he no longer had an actual heart to measure time with.

Once more, all it took was looking at Edward, recalling his tentative voice and how breakable he sounded, and there was no way Alphonse could keep the truth from him. "Yes."

He said it without blame, but Edward's features contorted for half a second, like he'd been cracked across the face, and Alphonse felt one of his large hands twitch with want of smoothing the lines from his forehead, to steer him away from talk of such things. These endless nights were for Alphonse to bear alone, just as Edward would have to endure the pain of automail, and he honestly wasn't sure if his brother could handle much more, his slight shoulders already laden by so much weight.

Edward looked away from him, and all Alphonse could do was watch after him, a damaged place inside him aching, begging, for tears that never came, unsure what to say and wishing he wasn't hindered by the armor; maybe if he'd still had his body, he wouldn't feel so helpless, so useless.

The silence resumed, one he'd grown so used to but hated so much, and Alphonse looked at his armored knees, trying to swallow a sigh as helplessness gnawed at him.

Despite the sound being so faint that there should have been no way for Edward to possibly hear it, his body tensed: just as Alphonse would recognize any sound that exited Edward's lips, he knew the softest of sighs that came from the younger boy.

The only noise was the chirping of crickets outside, and eventually, enough time passed for Alphonse to lose track of how many minutes it had been since their conversation had ended, for his mind to wander away from the mathematic equations he tried to work out and back toward the deepest recesses of the armor his consciousness occupied.

He was in the middle of trying to pull himself back to happier times, memories of his mother and the feel of her arms as she lifted him up, of sticky sweet rolls and Edward's carefree laughter from long ago, when he heard the rustle of bed sheets. Lifting his head from his knees, he saw Edward sitting up, though with some difficulty, his hand pressing into the mattress to support his weight, and then he was staring at him, eyes never wavering from the pinpoints of light illuminating from Alphonse's helmet. "Will you…uh…" Edward glanced down, not lifting his gaze. "Will you come pick me up?"

For the second time in such a short while, Alphonse was rendered momentarily speechless, and all he could do was stare back, painfully aware that this was the first time he could recall Edward sounding so shy with him and wondering what in the world had brought this out in his brother. "What?"

Edward's hand fisted on the bed, and he ducked his head down farther, but not enough to hide the embarrassed flush of color the weak moonlight illuminated on his cheeks. "I just…wanted to sit with you, keep you company, since you don't sleep."

Alphonse felt a tightness knot up inside him, painfully so, but it was also a good pain, and the ten-year-old boy he was wanted desperately to crawl over to Edward and hold him and be held in return, but the armor that he was wouldn't allow it. Instead, his desire to put his brother's well-being first was predominant, and he mildly but rationally pointed out, "But you do sleep."

Edward's gaze flicked up hastily, eyes large in his thin face. "I…I thought…"

A flash of grief, guilt for having brought up that uncertainty, had Alphonse wishing he'd kept his mouth shut and just did as Edward had asked. But there was nothing he could say, nothing to fix this, and all he could was stare back at him, confused and longing. "Brother…"

The older boy gave a halfhearted laugh, trying to brush their exchange off and failing. "It doesn't matter. Really."

But it did matter, Alphonse saw that now, and he hated himself for rejecting Edward; it was so rare that his brother willingly searched him out for comfort, and after the hell they'd been through, it wasn't really possible for him to deny Edward.

So Alphonse pushed himself up, the armor of his body creaking and clanking with every movement as he walked slowly to the bed, watching his brother as he stared intently at his hand, his shoulders stiffening. He reached him in just a few steps, and when Alphonse was standing right in front of him, Edward slowly lifted his face.

Bending his knees, now eyelevel with Edward, Alphonse could hear the eleven-year-old's breathing quicken, his older brother watching him with rapt attention, looking extremely young at the moment, enough to make Alphonse feel younger. His shirt had slipped off his right shoulder so that Alphonse could clearly see the bandages beneath, reminding him once more that Edward had willingly sacrificed his arm to bring his body back, given up a part of himself to save his life. Slowly, his brother slid his leg out from beneath the blankets and turned more toward him, waiting, his good hand remaining a tight fist in the sheets.

Carefully, cautious because he wasn't entirely familiarized to the newfound strength of this body yet, Alphonse leaned down, in, circling his large arms around Edward's small body, gauntlets on his back, and then Edward's arm came up, hand latching onto a crook in his armor. When he was sure Edward was securely in his arms, Alphonse lifted him up, and though he couldn't feel it, he sensed his brother tighten his hold, saw his knuckles turn white in his grip. "I won't drop you," he assured softly.

Edward gave him a fleeting smile, leaning his head against an armor shoulder. "I know you won't."

Alphonse stood there like that, cradling him, soul swelling as he looked at the little body he held, arms somehow gentle, and it suddenly occurred to him that this was the first time he had held Edward since that night, the night he'd dragged his bleeding body to Granny's. Now, without the impending death and slick blood and overwhelming fear, he simply stood there for a moment, looking down into Edward's face as his brother looked back at him, messy bangs slightly obscuring his eyes. Then, slowly, he carried him back to where he had been sitting every night for the last several days while Edward slept, careful as he slid down the wall, his brother still clinging to him.

Once he was sitting, Alphonse felt Edward loosen against him, turning so his back was curled into one of Alphonse's large arms and his good leg was pulled up to his chest, head resting against the cold, unforgiving metal of the younger boy's chest plate. It was a bit disquieting, at first, for Alphonse to know that he was now big enough for his older brother to lay in his lap, but then he realized he didn't mind in the slightest; this was the first time Edward had really let him get close since the night they'd lost their bodies, and it made Alphonse's soul constrict.

Still, even though this act of affection was so rare and made more of an impact for this reason, Alphonse couldn't help but mentally frown. "This can't be comfortable," he pointed out, knowing there was no way the icy armor could make a nice bed, especially since Edward was still recovering from the shock of having two appendages ripped away.

"Well, it is," Edward answered sharply, and Alphonse couldn't help but chuckle at his childishness. He saw Edward shiver slightly, but instead of turning away, his brother nuzzled into him.

"Brother, please, let me take you back to bed."

"No."

Alphonse exhaled softly, wishing he had at least grabbed a pillow. And though his brother was right there, he felt traces of that horrid separation crop up inside him, because while they were touching and close enough for him to see the strands of lighter gold lit by the moonlight in Edward's hair, it didn't change the fact that it felt like there was a distance between them, a chasmic division, one they both wanted to cross but neither knew exactly how to.

Edward's eyes were closed stubbornly, hand curled against Alphonse's chest, his skin a little pale and drawn, and Alphonse felt a deep surge of protectiveness for the him. He was still weak from losing two limbs and so much blood, and it worried Alphonse that while he had regained his old enthusiasm, he still looked so breakable at times, dark circles beneath his eyes and lacking his usual immense appetite. He was on the brink of receiving automail, but was his body ready for it? Was his mind?

"Brother?"

"What, Al?" Edward asked tersely.

"You start automail surgery tomorrow."

Edward looked up at him, gaze a bit startled, before his brows pulled down over honest eyes and a slight smile. "Yeah."

"Are…are you scared?" Alphonse inquired, a bit hesitant.

Traces of a smile still on his lips, Edward leaned back against him, blinking slowly. "A little. I know…it's gonna hurt. A lot. But that's not really why…"

Puzzled, Alphonse leaned down a little closer, trying to get Edward to meet his eyes. "Then what?"

Edward looked at him from beneath his lashes, then turned away, pulling his limbs in closer to himself so that he unconsciously appeared even smaller. "I don't want you to have to see me like that."

Once more, there was that need to cry that nearly consumed Alphonse, and he couldn't say anything.

"I am going to do this," Edward assured him, finally lifting his eyes and keeping them locked with Alphonse's. "I am. I just…" He rested his forehead against the chilled armor, sighing tiredly. "I just don't want to be weak. I have no idea how hard this is gonna be, so what if I…what if I'm not as strong as I think I am? What if I can't handle it without…?"

Crying. Breaking down. There were so many possibilities that Edward was scared to admit to. He was afraid for himself, but more than that, the younger boy realized, was the fear of falling apart in front of Alphonse; Edward had always been his rock, and he was suddenly aware that his brother wasn't sure how to handle the fact that he might not be the strength Alphonse needed.

Edward really could be silly sometimes, though there were understandable reasons for this type of silliness, and Alphonse could almost feel himself smiling as he touched a hand to Edward's good shoulder, gripping it gingerly. Edward shook beneath his hand and slowly looked up at him with such uncertainty that Alphonse, not for the first time, felt like he was really the older of the two. "Brother…it's alright to be afraid."

When Edward opened his mouth to argue, Alphonse quickly pleaded, "Don't lie. Not to me."

At that, Edward seemed to deflate, slumping down and looking utterly miserable at having been figured out. It wasn't difficult for Alphonse to see past his brother's confident mask and witness the genuine fear of oncoming pain he tried to squash into nonexistence. He waited a moment to see if his brother would offer up anything before continuing. "You gave up your arm for me. If that's not strength, I don't know what is. No matter what happens tomorrow or for the next year or for the rest of our lives, remember that. And remember that I have faith in you."

Edward stared up at him with uncharacteristically round eyes, mouth open on words that wouldn't come, and Alphonse lightly wondered if he'd shocked him into actual silence; he'd never said anything like that before, as it was just a known fact that he trusted Edward with everything that he was. But he knew Edward had needed to hear this, needed to know just how much he meant to him, and then he had been unable to stop once he'd started speaking, revealing for the first time just how deep his love for his brother ran. He gently rubbed Edward's shoulder, almost able to feel himself smiling.

Slowly, Edward smiled, a little pull of lips that was both pleased and amazed. He laughed thickly, then knocked his head against Alphonse's armor. "You're…really something, you know that?"

Alphonse just laughed.

Several minutes passed like this, Edward leaning against Alphonse with his eyes open wide and obviously fighting sleep, both of them quiet. Eventually, the glow of Alphonse's eyes dimmed as they always did when he called himself inward, resting, in a sense, though there was no real rest for one without a body.

Pat.

Immediately pulled from himself, Alphonse looked down to see a small hand pressed to his chest plate, Edward looking at his hand with morbidly thoughtful eyes. He let his finger stroke over the cool metal, reminding Alphonse of a time not even half a year ago when he'd been sick and unable to sleep, Edward patting clumsily at his cheek for a minute, then slowly brushing his fingers over the side of his face and around his ear, eventually putting him to sleep. The memory was comforting, but when he looked back at Edward's face, he suddenly felt sad. "I don't know what it's like to not sleep," Edward observed quietly, placing his hand where Alphonse's heart would be.

A hiccupped sound exited the armor, and all Alphonse could was look into the sleepy, distressed face below him, into eyes brimming with sorrow. After a moment's debate, he lifted a large gauntlet that shook ever so slightly and cradled his palm to Edward's cheek, watching his brother stare at him with glassy eyes. A trembling hand moved to latch onto one of his giant fingers. "I hope you never have to know," Alphonse said, voice catching on unseen tears.

Edward's lip quivered, but he quickly bit down on it and held tight to Alphonse's hand, pulling him closer, eyes shutting. A tired smile spread across his features, more miserable than anything, and his eyes opened, staring at nothing as he laughed morosely. "Look at me. I'm supposed to be taking care of you, and I can't even hold you properly," he said, laugh getting choked in his throat.

Alphonse could imagine how his breath would hitch in his lungs, could almost feel the burn of tears flooding his eyes as his soul began to cry, because he had never heard Edward say anything like this to him, to anyone. Ache and want and pain and sorrow and happiness fought for domination within him, but his emotions seemed to settle on an amalgamation of them all, and it filled him with so much more love than an ordinary child knew or could ever understand.

Gently, ever so gently, he lifted Edward up, ignoring his questioning gaze, raising him by his waist and settling him against his large body, and he heard Edward suck in a breath as he positioned him so that their chests were touching, Alphonse's arms wrapped delicately around Edward's back, the older boy's heart thudding against the armor. "Then I'll hold you."

He felt a shake radiate through the metal, and then Edward's arm wrapped around him as best he could, holding onto him tightly, fiercely, face buried against what would be his neck. For several minutes, Alphonse could just barely feel Edward's body shudder, hear his breathing catch, and except for this, there were no other signs that he was crying.

Once the little body he held went still, Alphonse, stroking a hand up his back, said softly, "Sleep, Brother. I'm right here."

"You'll be alone, though," came a sleepy, slurred reply, one that had Alphonse silently smiling.

"It's okay. Tonight, I don't feel so alone anymore."

It was only a few minutes later that Edward's body went limp, and once Alphonse was sure he wasn't going to wake up, he did his best not to jostle his brother as he got to his feet and carried him back to bed, laying him down as if he weighed nothing and covering him to his chest. He touched a hand to Edward's face, sticky tear marks still visible on his skin, and when his brother leaned into him, sighing contentedly, he could practically feel himself smile.

Pulling his hand away, Alphonse began to walk back to the corner, back to the other side of the gulf that divided them, but stopped when he became aware of a tugging sensation, and when he turned around, he saw Edward's hand holding onto his finger, keeping him bound even in sleep. Not sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry, he sat down of the floor beside his bed, never breaking Edward's hold, and he remained there throughout the rest of the night, not once tiring of seeing his older brother's chest rise and fall with breath or brushing the hair from his eyes or calming him when he happened to get lost in an especially violent dream.

And for the first time in fourteen days, he was truly happy.

When morning came and Edward woke, he instinctively looked over to his left where he knew Alphonse would be, and when their eyes met, neither said anything.

Edward gave Alphonse's finger a tight squeeze, and though Alphonse couldn't feel it, he saw it, and that was enough.