A/N: Yes, this premise has been done to death. And no, I don't care. Also, I subconsciously stole the kids' names from kalirush, so there's that. Whoops.

He's back, staring at the not-face he never wanted to see again, and it's smiling, like always, but the teeth are growing and suddenly it's Gluttony, his stomach, he's being swallowed, he's shouting for Al but Al's gone, he's never going to see him again, not him or Winry or—

"Ed!"

Winry's voice pulled him out of his nightmare. She was looking at him with wide-eyed concern, which freaked him out, because that meant she was actually worried. Her hand was gripping his so tightly it felt like a claw.

Ed sighed, then panicked.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" It's been a while since his nightmares were bad enough that he had to sleep in another room, but it's always a possibility. Everyone says it's common for veterans to have trouble sleeping after a war—Knox does, Mustang does, Hawkeye does. It's something you learn to deal with. Another part of life.

"No, no. I'm fine. You were screaming, though, and thrashing around. You looked—you looked like you were really in pain, Ed."

"Yeah? Well, the last thing I remember is being eaten by Gluttony, so that makes sense." He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but it was difficult. He can't remember the last time he slept through the night without any trouble—it must have been during that brief window between their first failed transmutation and the war with the Homunculi, when he was no longer constantly reminded of the tangled being they'd created and hadn't yet seen hell for a second time. Ever since then, the nightmares came with astonishing regularity.

"Daddy? Daddy, what's wrong?" Al and Sara came stumbling into the room, the latter rubbing sleep from her eyes as her big brother dragged her by the hand. "Daddy, are you okay?" she cried.

Ed grinned and picked up the two kids, and planted a kiss on each of their cheeks. "I'm fine, you guys. Just a bad dream is all."

"Really?" Little Al sounded skeptical. Sara clambered into bed with her mommy, wide-eyed. "But you're the bravest person in the world! Uncle Al always says so!"

Ed chuckled. "Your uncle would say that. He's the brave one, not me. And that's the funny thing about bad dreams, kiddo—everyone gets them."

Al frowned. "Then me and Sara and Mommy will stay here and if anything bad happens we'll wake you up, okay? That way you won't have to worry about the nightmares!"

Winry smiled at that. Little Al sounded just like Ed at that age. Always wanting to protect.

The kids climbed over their parents and situated themselves dead-center, surrounded by a tangled swirl of sheets. Al sat with his arms crossed, frowning, as if he meant to stay up all night and keep watch. Sara curled sleepily next to her daddy.

It was funny, Ed thought, that he was the one being comforted. Al and Sara should be the ones to have nightmares, and he should be the one to soothe their fears. They should be crawling into his bed for protection, not to be the protectors. He couldn't decide if this bizarre reversal was pathetic or wonderful.

Catching Winry's eye, her slight smile and nod, her hand slipping into his, he resolved that it didn't matter. After all, he was here.

He was here.