Author's Note: This one-shot was inspired by two entirely separate things. The first was something a character in one of my roleplays said (and this wasn't even an FMA roleplay). It was something to the effect of "You tried your hardest, and that's all anyone can ask for." For some odd reason, it caught my eye and reminded me of Al. The second thing that inspired this one-shot was the song by Vic Mignogna (Ed's English dub) called "Nothing I Won't Give". That song is AWESOME, and it inspired me to no end. Thus, this one-shot came about. It's an argument of sorts between the two brothers, and shows how important they are to each other. My favorite kind of one-shot XD This was also a sort of experiment for me in using two forms of perspective in the same fic.
"I promise you, there's nothing I won't give."
- Vic Mignogna, 'Nothing I Won't Give'
I think you're trying too hard, Brother. Just look at you, a dog of the military at the age of twelve! If chasing after my dreams means this, I'd rather you forgot about it. People call you a genius, but sometimes I think you're just stupid. You refuse to think of yourself, when your problems are so much larger than mine.
All right, so I don't have a body. I can't eat or sleep. I can't feel the softness of a cat's fur, or the smooth cheek of a newborn baby. I can't smell the delicious scents of food wafting through the air. But I'm alive, aren't I? My soul is intact, regardless of the state of my body. I can still hear your voice, Brother, and I can still see your face. I can see the pain you try to ignore, and I can hear the cries you attempt to stifle.
You saved me from the Gate. You saved my life. I'm not sure what would have happened if you'd left me there. I might have stayed in there forever, or maybe I would have simply disappeared from all existence. And even if this armor is limiting, even if I am but the hollow shell of a human being, this existence is precious to me. After all, you paid your arm for this! Your own arm... I can only imagine how much it must have hurt when it was pulled right off. There was so much blood that night, when I woke and tried to bind your wounds. I'm sure you were on the verge of death.
Once you asked me if I hated you for bringing me back into such a mangled existence, but it's exactly the opposite. I only love you all the more. When you told the whole story to our Master, I heard that you hadn't just offered your arm to bring me back. "I'll give you my leg, my arms, my heart..." You would have given up your very life for me if you had to, wouldn't you? Such a sacrifice takes my breath away. How could I ever hate you for what you did? If equivalent trade means anything, I can only attempt to give back a little of the love you showed for me the night you tied my soul to this armor.
You punish yourself for not being able to give me back my flesh and blood body, but you gave me this steel one, didn't you? You brought me back at your own expense, when you could have easily let me die and moved on with your life. You gave up everything for me, and that's all anyone can ask for. There's nothing I won't give to repay you somehow, to show that I love you every bit as much as you've always loved me. Nothing at all.
You don't get it, Al, do you? "All anyone can ask for," is it? It's my fault you lost your body in the first place! I was selfish and juvenile, thinking I could bring back Mom after only a year of studying. I wanted to return to the days of happiness, ignoring the one person who could make me happy again. Didn't Mom say, "Live together and be happy"? If I'd paid attention, I would have realized that our hearts could have been healed, and we could have been happy again - with each other - even though Mom was gone.
But I've always been stubborn and stiff-necked, so I threw away all I had to chase after an impossibility. I thought I had nothing left to lose, but I was wrong. Al, I was so wrong. I nearly lost you, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I don't care how many times you tell me you're thankful, or how many times you urge me to only think of myself. Can't you see, Al? That's what got us both into this mess: me thinking of no one but me. If I had once stopped to consider, or realized how much you meant to me, I could still reach out today and feel your warm skin. I could see your smiling face, hear a voice that didn't echo around an empty helmet.
That's why I can't stop to think about my own problems. Only when they interfere with my quest after your body will I pause. Everything is my fault, so I have to be the one to suffer and atone. I don't care if it's impossible; I don't care if even you don't think I can do it. There's nothing I won't give to bring back your body, to apologize for the horrible things I've put you through, to convince you that I love you more than anyone or anything. Nothing at all.
The brothers stood facing each other with folded arms. Ed was frowning, and the glowing red eyes of his brother were mere stubborn slits. "We're not getting anywhere with this, Brother," the suit of armor sighed.
"Yeah," Ed agreed, his frown deepening. "That's why you should just drop it."
"Why me?" Al demanded. "Why don't you give in?"
"The same reason you won't, apparently," Ed grumbled, rolling his eyes.
"Touché," Al muttered.
Ed let his arms drop to his sides and sat back down on the couch. After a moment, Al followed suit, sitting cross-legged on the floor on the opposite side of the small coffee table in front of the couch. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Al watching his older brother as Ed watched the blades of the ceiling fan slowly oscillate. At long last, Ed spoke. "Al, nothing you say is going to make me stop searching for a way to bring back your body."
"You've said this a dozen times already, Brother," Al said with the hint of a laugh in his voice.
"You know why, right?" Ed asked the ceiling fan.
There was a moment's pause, and then Al murmured, "Yes." His voice was a mere metallic rasp whispering through the visor of his helmet.
Ed returned his gaze to his little brother and the shadow of a smile crossed his face. "And it's the same reason for you, isn't it?"
Again, even softer this time, Al whispered, "Yes."
Ed stood up again and strode over to Al, who looked up at him with questioning eyes. Ed patted the top of Al's head, the way he used to do when they were small. It wasn't quite the same; Ed's automail hand banged hollowly on the helmet, and he had to remain standing to even reach the top of Al's head. All the same, the gesture was understood as Ed sat down on the floor next to his little brother and picked up one of the reference books littering the coffee table. "Now, where were we before we started this stupid argument?"
When he glanced up at Al, the red eyes shone out from the helmet like bright lamps, and he knew that on the inside, Al was smiling.