One Last Letter

Every little thing is gonna be alright.

A.N. Remember that one IP – the one that did NOT happen, the one I swore I would NOT be continuing, IP 3: If You're Reading This? Yeah… that one. So, um… plot bunnies happened and well, I think you'll like this follow up to that particular story.

This takes place AFTER If You're Reading This, so if you don't remember sobbing your eyes out that time (like I did while writing it) you might want to go back and read it first. Hopefully you won't need as many tissues this time.

Disclaimer: Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

Rating: This story is rated K+

The pack felt lighter on his shoulder than it had in months. Granted, that might be because he was almost out of provisions but it also had something to do with the fact that he could finally see that yellow house at the end of the road – exactly the same as it was the last time he saw it, more than twelve years ago.

"What a sight." he murmured into the still warm air of the evening. It was spring in Resembool. The trees were covered in fresh green leaves and the fields on either side of the road were filled with colorful wildflowers issuing their delightful fragrance into the surrounding air. Everything was as it had been, despite his many years of absence. He was anxious to find my place here again – to settle down and get a real job and live a simple life, free from fear and fighting, far from the place that had stolen so much from him.

He was not the same as he had been. The years had changed him. War had changed him. "They probably won't even recognize me." He laughed and lifted his hand to stroke at the rugged beard which had grown during his last few months of near constant travel. His hair was far too long as well and still sticky with sand from weeks in the desert. "I can't wait to take a proper shower – to shave and get a haircut. But first…"

His heart pounded in my chest as his feet carried him closer and closer to the yellow house. The sign by the front porch had been repainted, its new coat bright and welcoming. He climbed the steps and stopped before the front door. It wouldn't do to just walk in. Once, that would have been fine. But after all these years, he didn't want to frighten them.

He knocked three times, noting with a sudden pain that there was no answering bark from the dog which had always been there to greet him. "Well, I suppose everything can't be the same." A part of him was worried though – worried that, despite external appearances of normalcy, the world he was returning to was far different from the world he remembered. Just how much had changed since he'd been gone?

But when the door opened and that too familiar face stood before him, all of his thoughts and worries were erased.

"Good evening! How can I help you?"

She was smiling, a friendly greeting for whoever had come to call so late in the day. But there was no recognition in her eyes. Of course not. How could there be? He looked so different now, twelve years – plus the four from before – he was so much older than he had been the last time she had actually seen him.

His voice caught in his throat, not sure how to respond. He'd spent so much time thinking about what he would say when he saw them again and yet, now that he was finally here, he couldn't remember a word of what he'd planned and rehearsed. But his hesitance lasted to long and she frowned, confused at first, but then looking at him harder – past the beard and unruly locks, past the worn traveling cloak, past the dirt and dust and age.

He knew right away he she recognized him – recognized but was oh so hesitant to believe. Her eyes flew open wide and her breath caught in a silent gasp. She shook her head, then nodded, and then shook her head again.

He offered a gentle smile and finally found his voice. "Winry… It's me. I'm home."

Her knees gave out and he stepped forward to catch her in an awkward hold. She clung to his cloak and looked upward, searching his face, her eyes brimmed with tears. "Alphonse?"

He nodded and then, because he could not hold her up any longer, he allowed his own legs to fold beneath him, lowering them both onto the deck, and he held her while she cried.

"So… where's Brother." Al didn't wait to ask. Winry had calmed after several minutes, her tears turning to laughter and a brilliant smile and a warm hug. She had ushered him inside, taking his pack and offering him something to drink. He'd accepted the water graciously – after months in the desert, water was still his first choice. Now he sat on the couch with his cloak still wrapped around him, sipping from his glass and looking about the room which had changed so little over the years.

Winry sat beside him, absently toying with the hem of her shirt. She looked away for a moment but met Al's eyes to answer his question. "He's not here, Al. Ed's in Central."

Alphonse sighed. He had hoped that they would both be in here. He'd really wanted to see his brother first. It had been a long internal debate, deciding where to go first. In the end, Resembool had seemed most likely. After twelve years, surely Ed would have settled back in their home town. Surely he wasn't still in the military. Surely he wasn't still out searching… for him. But then, that was just like Ed – relentlessly pursuing his goals, never faltering, never giving up. Of course Ed would still be out there, looking for him.

"Al. We…" Winry started and then she paused, hesitating. It felt so strange. Things had never been awkward between them before. But now… he supposed that it was to be expected. He'd arrived so suddenly. Of course she was at a loss for what to do next. He waited patiently for her to continue. "We received your letters. Or, well, Ed did. We thought you were dead."

Letters? And then he remembered the pack of letters he'd left in May's care more than nine years before. It was such a small portion in the grand scheme of things, when he considered all of the others he had written through the years, in his pack, still waiting to be delivered. To be honest, he'd given little thought to May over the years. Thinking of her had been painful. He had no way of knowing whether or not she and Dr. Marcoh had made it out of Xing or if they'd made it to Amestris. Now though, he was finally receiving confirmation of their survival and it eased a certain weight within his chest. He'd have to track her down eventually and let her know that he, too, had survived. She would be please, he was sure.

"May made it then. I'm glad." He smiled. Then he remembered what he had written in the last message he had sent with her. And now Winry was still watching him as though he were a ghost. No wonder she had been so distraught at his arrival. But… if Ed believed that Al was dead, what had made him return to Central?

"What happened, Al?" Winry prompted. "How did you survive?"

Al smiled but shook his head. "I'd really rather only tell it once. When will Brother return? And…" He looked about the quiet house. "Is Granny Pinako…"

Winry looked away sadly. "She passed away a few years ago."

Al frowned and tried to suppress the tears which threatened to spill. This was one of the changes he had feared. "I'm sorry. I wish I could have returned sooner."

"Have you… been in Xing all this time?"

"I have. But… well, I'd really rather wait for Brother. Will he be home soon or should we go to Central and track him down ourselves?" Al smirked fondly, recalling how his brother could be when he got focused on a project. Al had been the same once upon a time, though it had been many years since he'd had the opportunity to simply get lost in research and study.

Winry gave a half smile in return but it was quickly overshadowed by a frown. "Al… do you remember what you wrote – in one of your early letters? Ed read them to all of us at… at your funeral." Al had to smother his surprise at that revelation. It was odd to think of them having a funeral for him while he was still alive but he supposed that it was to be expected. "I couldn't begin to remember all of them since I only heard them once, but this one… it was important. It explained what had happened – that night, when you disappeared."

Al hadn't thought about that night in many years – it was the night that he got his body back but also the night that had started him on his too long journey, so far from home. And after so long, it had faded into distant memory. He did remember writing the letter though and obviously it had been received as it was meant to. He nodded, eyebrows creasing in wonder at Winry's purpose for bringing this up.

"You wrote about how you got your body back and how you then gave up your…um…"

"My gate." Al finished for her. "My ability to use alchemy."

"Right, but…" She hesitated, biting her lip for a moment before continuing. "But that wasn't enough. You said… you wrote something about Ed being different but you didn't know what that meant."

Al gasped. He'd forgotten that part. It had been so long and all he'd wanted was to get home – to his brother. He'd been so worried about the changes that time had wrought upon himself and upon the world he was returning to, the people he loved. He hadn't thought at all about what changes may have taken place on that very day, so long ago, and what affects they may have now.

But Winry knew – she had obviously seen Ed since then and was clearly hesitant to explain the truth to Al. How bad was it? Had he lost more limbs? His sight? His mind? What had the truth taken from his brother in Al's desperate quest to restore his life?

"It's not bad, Al!" Winry hurried to reassure him. She must have seen his face. "At least… not that bad. Ed's fine. He's safe and healthy. I mean, he's still got automail but no more than he had before. It's just… well, he's different."

"Winry, please. Just tell me." He couldn't take her beating around the bush any longer. He needed to know.

Winry nodded once, then took a moment longer to collect her thoughts. "Ed is… well, I should say that when Roy found him, he was… um… a baby."

Al blinked, certain he had misunderstood. "What do you mean?"

Winry shrugged. "I mean he was a baby, Al. An infant. He's had to grow up all over again and… well he's twelve now. He had his automail surgery last November and his rehabilitation is going really – faster than last time actually."

Winry kept talking but Al's brain tuned her out momentarily. He was reeling, still trying to wrap his brain around this strange reality. A baby? His brother had been turned into a baby and now he was twelve? But what about… and… "Wait! Wait, Winry – are you saying… I mean, does he even know who he is? Who we are?"

Winry bit her lip again, but nodded. "He does now. He didn't, until a few months ago. Roy said that his memories started returning shortly after the automail surgery and –"

"Roy?" Al cut her off again. "You mean Mustang? What does he have to do with this?"

Winry smiled softly. "Roy is… well, he adopted Ed."

Al sat back on the couch and absently reached up, under the drape of his cloak to rub at his right shoulder. He remained silent then, listening while Winry explained how his brother had come to live in Central City as Edward Maes Mustang, son of Roy and Riza Mustang. It all seemed so surreal, like a strange work of fiction. His older brother was so much younger than him now – young and yet, still so strong, to endure automail surgery a second time and to suffer the confusing return of his memories.

"That's when he asked Roy about you and… Roy gave him the letters. He'd been keeping them for years – ever since your friend delivered them. After that, Ed brought the letters back here, to Resembool, and we had a small service for you. That was about a month ago – I never thought… we were so sure that you were dead but… here you are." Winry smiled and reached out to place her hand on top of his, over his right shoulder.

He didn't catch the motion in time, didn't move so that she wouldn't notice. He'd kept it hidden so far. She hadn't realized earlier, on the porch. But now…

He shifted, catching her hand in his own and turning to face her before she could bring it up. He ignored the shock clearly written on her face and continued with their current conversation. "Brother doesn't know I'm here though. And if he's twelve years old, if he just found out and still thinks… I'm dead… he must be hurting. I have to go to him Winry. I have to see him and fix things. I have to make this right. I don't want him to suffer any longer."

Winry shook away her surprise and nodded, understanding his desire and determination. "There's a train to Central leaving at six in the morning. We'll be on it. Tonight, you should get some rest… a shower and a good meal would probably be nice too, right? You look like you've had a long journey."

Al nodded and stood, ready to take her advice and the offered shower. "I have. Thank you, Winry."

"Al?" He turned back to face her and saw the lines of worry about her eyes. "Your arm…"

With a resigned sigh, Al unclasped his cloak and allowed the fabric to fall from his shoulders. He looked to the side, at was left of his right shoulder. It hardly bothered him anymore. He'd lived without it for so many years. Now that he was home though… well, Winry was the best automail mechanic around.

"I thought for sure I was going to die that day." He said by way of explanation. "I ran into battle knowing that there was little chance of survival but hoping that I could at least hold them off long enough for May and Dr. Marcoh to escape." He smiled softly and laid his remaining hand upon the stump that was his shoulder. "In the end, this was a small price to pay just to live another day and to have another chance to find my way back home."

Dear Brother,

We made it to Xing – about a week ago now but this is the first bit of downtime I've had when I'm not completely exhausted…

Dear Brother,

They closed the border! I was so angry when I found out…

Dear Brother,

I realized some things yesterday…

Ed didn't have to read the letters anymore. He knew every word from start to finish – twenty-four letters total, spanning almost three years. He knew them and yet he continued to pull them out, day after day – the letters and the journal his brother had kept so long ago. They were proof – undeniable evidence that Alphonse Elric had existed. He had written those words with his own hand or, in the case of the journal, with the hand of a suit of armor that had been his only body for four years.

In a lot of ways, the letters were better. Those were written in Al's real, flesh and blood hand. They chronicled the last three years of his life – three years during which he was able to do most of what he'd spent four years longing to experience. Four and three… it was hardly equivalent and it wasn't at all fair.

Ed was trying. He was trying so hard to just keep moving forward the way his parents wanted him to, the way Winry and all of their friends wanted him to, the way Al would have wanted – if he had been there to call Ed an idiot for dwelling so long on the past. To be honest, Ed wanted to move on too. He still had so much – a good family and friends, goals he wanted to pursue, dreams and ambitions. He'd had all of those before and he couldn't really let it all go now. When it came down to it, Al had been gone for years.

But it had only been a month since he'd found out. It was still so fresh in his mind. And… on top of that, he was still regaining new memories almost daily. Trying to sort them out, with all of the emotions that came along with them, and then the near constant pain and heartache over losing a brother he hadn't even remembered having for so long… it gave him a headache most days and just left him feeling depressed the rest of the time.

He was glad to have his parents there though. He leaned on them a lot for support. It was all that he could do. Trying to shut them out and deal with things by himself only made it worse. But when he let them help him… well they couldn't stop the pain, but at least they made it easier to bear. And they were so patient. He knew that they were worried. He knew and so he tried a little harder to push through the pain and force a smile, for their sakes. But when that failed, as it always did, they told him not to worry about them – to let them be his anchor through this storm. It would pass. One day, he'd be able to see the blue skies again.

So he went to school and did his work and went through the motions of life in between bouts of depression and fatigue and sudden headaches. There wasn't really anyway to get through this faster. He just had to ride it out. He just had to… keep waking up – one day at a time.

He didn't need to read the letters. But he loved to trace the fine handwriting with his eyes – every letter a direct link to his brother, to Alphonse.

Ed rested his head on his desk with a heavy sigh. He could smell dinner cooking in the kitchen – spaghetti, he thought – but he wasn't very hungry. He hadn't been hungry in a while. He ate… but his once voracious appetite was pretty much non-existent these days.

He heard a car pull into the driveway. His father was home. That was good. Everything was just a little bit easier when the whole family was together. The front door opened and Ed could hear his father's keys jangling and then… voices.

Ed frowned. There weren't usually voices beyond his Dad's initial greeting and his mother's reply. But these were different and there was more than one set of footsteps in the foyer – three, if he had to guess. They had guests. His mother hadn't mentioned having anyone for dinner. Ed… would really rather not have visitors over. Putting on a show for guests was just too hard right now and his parents knew that. So, surely, the visitors wouldn't stay long or, at least, they were close family friends who also understood – the team, or Aunt Gracia and Elicia.

He didn't try to pick out who they were by their voices though. He'd be called out soon enough and he'd find out then. His head was hurting again.

"Ed?" His father called through his door, knocking twice and then entering the room. "Hey, Kid. How're you feeling?"

Ed shrugged in reply. "My head hurts."

His dad nodded in understanding and then moved closer, standing next to Ed and running his fingers gently through the boy's hair. Ed leaned into the touch and his father smiled warmly. "We have visitors."

Ed nodded. "I know." Then he grimaced. "Do I have to go out?"

"You're going to want to." There was something… odd about his father's gaze, something happy and yet, hesitant. Ed wasn't sure what to make of it. "Winry's here."

Ed blinked and pushed himself up a bit. "Bet she wants to look at my automail." He said with the first genuine smile he'd had all day. Winry… Winry was someone who understood. His dad was right. Ed did want to see her.

His father chuckled. "I would imagine that is somewhere on her agenda. But that's not why she came. She brought someone with her – someone… a bit unexpected, who showed up in Resembool yesterday. He was looking for you."

Ed frowned. "Why would someone be looking for me in Resembool? Unless…"

"I should specify that he was looking for Edward Elric, though I think he's alright with meeting Ed Mustang instead. He's very eager to see you." His dad smiled.

"Who is it?" It would have to be someone they already knew and trusted, considering all the effort his parents had gone to, to hide the fact that Edward Elric was still alive. His father didn't answer immediately, however. Instead, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and withdrew a letter.

He held this out to Ed with a certain hesitance. "He wrote a letter of… well introduction I suppose, though he's hardly a stranger. You'll understand in a moment but…" He stopped still holding onto the letter even as Ed took the other side. There was a certain apprehension in the man's eyes but also… hope. His smile was gentle and encouraging. "Everything is going to be alright, Son."

He released the letter and Ed frowned, holding it in his own hands but not looking at it. His gaze lingered on his father, unable to imagine what was going on or who this strange visitor was that had cause such an odd dichotomy of emotions to flicker behind his father's eyes. And those odd words… what did his dad mean by that?

His father was standing by though, waiting for him to read the letter. That was good. Ed didn't know what to expect but he got the feeling that he was going to need his father there for this. He took a deep breath and then turned his eyes to the letter – slowly unfolding the page and reading the first few words.

Dear Brother,

He almost dropped the page in shock.

His father's hands reached out to steady his own and Ed looked up, searching the man's eyes for an explanation. It was a trick or… a mistake… one letter that had gotten lost, separated from the others. There was no doubt in Ed's mind that those words, those letters, had been written by the same hand that had written the others. He knew the lines too well to think otherwise. But where had this letter come from? Why was he only receiving it now?

"It's okay, Ed. Just keep reading." His father's voice was so calm, so sure. Ed didn't dare hope and yet… oh, how he wanted to. And his dad was smiling softly behind the slight worry in his eyes.

Dear Brother,

I hope this doesn't come as too much of a shock for you. I know you've been through a lot and I don't want to cause you anymore pain. So I hope that this letter will help ease any stress you may feel under the circumstances.

I understand that you recently received my first set of letters, written so many years ago. I'd almost forgotten about them. Now I wish I'd never sent them or, at least, that I had made it back sooner and been able to spare you whatever grief they may have caused.

For now, the most important thing you need to know is that I am alive. I survived the battle that I was sure would take my life. I was injured of course and taken prisoner. I spent three years in prison and the next four as a slave. When I finally earned my freedom – through my own hard work and the gracious will of a man whom I would come to consider my friend – I stayed another year in Xing, still working hard and saving money to buy my passage across the border. When I finally had enough, I began my final journey.

I arrived in Resembool yesterday and Winry told me of the life you have lived these past twelve years. I can't begin to imagine what it's been like for you these past few months. I've heard a bit about what you've been through but I'm waiting to hear the rest from you. I'm sure we have a lot to talk about.

I could probably write a few more pages now, as I wait for our train to arrive in Central. I have so many thoughts and questions. I'm both excited and nervous. But I know that every word I write here is just one word longer that I will have to wait for you to finish reading.

I home, Brother. I know I'm late and I'm sorry it took so long. But I promised that I would come home and I'm here now. I can't wait to see you.

-Al

"Where is he?" Ed breathed the words even as he scanned the letter a final time. It was true. It was all true. It had to be. Al was alive. Al was home. Al was… "Where is he?" He said again, louder this time and finally tearing his eyes away from the page, to search his father's face.

His dad smiled. "He's in the living room."

Ed moved quickly, slamming the letter down on his desk and standing up. He strode towards the door… and froze. He couldn't… was he ready? Could he really just walk down the hallway now and see his brother for the first time in twelve years? He was… was he even dressed appropriately? Did it even matter? And what would he say? What would he do? He'd spent the last month in a state of near constant depression. Could he really just step out of it so suddenly? So easily?

It was like… the storm had cleared away too suddenly, too quickly, and he was hesitant to step outside again even though he knew the sun was shining just beyond those doors.

He gulped and took a deep breath. And then he looked back at his father. Help me, his eyes pleaded. I can't do this.

But his dad just shook his head and smiled encouragingly. No, this was something Ed had to do on his own. "Go on, Son. He's waiting for you."

Ed nodded and set his face with determination. He was going to feel the warmth of the sun again. Finally, there was nothing standing in his way.

The hallway… seemed longer than it ever had before. Ed didn't run. He walked at a steady pace and yet each step seemed slower than the one before. The wallpaper stood out so much bolder than Ed had ever noticed, while the paintings and framed photographs seemed to glow in the dim light streaming out from the room at the end of the hall.

He heard their voices first.

His mother… saying something about dinner.

Winry… offering to help set the table.

And then… a third voice.

Ed could never recall the actual words but just that first sound was forever ingrained on his memory. He knew that voice and yet… he didn't.

Gone was the tinny echo from those four long years trapped in a suit of armor. Gone, too, was the sweetness of childhood. This voice was rich and warm, a soft tenor, different from what he'd only just begun to recall and yet still so very much the same. Still so gentle. Still so kind.

So real.

Ed didn't realize that he'd stopped just short of entering the living room. He watched, absently, as his mother and Winry stood and left the room – to prepare for dinner he supposed. But then his eyes were drawn to the third figure in the room.

The young man stood by the fireplace, scanning the photographs on the mantle with a curious smile. He was clean shaven and his hair was cut short – much the same style as he had kept it when he was younger. He wore grey slacks and a white shirt, with a grey vest to match the pants. His left hand reached out to turn one of the pictures for a better look. His right hand…

Ed blinked as he realized – the right hand was gone, along with its entire arm, its sleeve hanging empty at his side to where it was tucked into his pocket. That wasn't right. Al wasn't… he wasn't supposed to have lost anything. He was supposed to have everything back. What had gone wrong? Or was it… maybe this was part of the injury he'd received in Xing. But still. It wasn't fair at all.

He stood frozen, just watching the man who was his brother for several long moments, trying to wrap his mind around the picture, sure that it would all seem more real in just another moment. It felt too much like a dream.

Then Al turned and his golden eyes flew open wide as he spotted Ed in the doorway. And it seemed like the same process was repeated in reverse, this time with Al attempting to convince himself that Ed was real.

No one was sure who moved first, but they found each other in the center of the room and their embrace erased any doubts, any fears, any worries that either of them had.

Dad was right. Ed thought as he looked into his brother's smiling face. Everything is going to be alright.