Alone.

For one horrible moment, Edward Elric was alone in the world.

And he felt it with certainty in the pit of his stomach. A cold, churning reality that burned and ached and throbbed far worse than the gaping, bleeding hole where his leg should have been.

"…A…Al…?"

His brother—oh, his beautiful, precious little brother—the one he was supposed to protect and care for and lead and defend—where…where was he?

Gone.

He knew it, and yet he didn't. He had full comprehension that he, Edward Elric, son of Hohenheim and Trisha Elric, was the last living family member, and yet every piece of his sanity was screaming at him that it wasn't true, that Alphonse wasn't gone, that he—maybe his soul, or something—was still lingering, hovering, creeping towards the point of no return…

And it was worse, because that same voice screaming in his head was screaming in the world, and he couldn't help staring at her—no, it, whatever she was—and gaping and crying because this was not how it should have been.

Alphonse!

Before he even knew what he was doing, Edward crawled towards the suit of armor in the corner of their basement. He could still hear that monster of mutated flesh hissing behind him, moaning, crying out to the world—it was in pain, wasn't it? Oh, what had they done? Foolish, foolish—and perhaps in order to drown out the noise, he knocked it over.

The clanging of the metal against the stone floor was oddly soothing. Something like a migraine recoiled from his mind, hissing quietly as it waited.

He couldn't waste time—this he knew, yet didn't. If he hesitated too long, his brother's soul might be too far gone to save. And he knew, above all else, if Alphonse was gone…well, he, too, would have died that day.

I won't allow you to separate us, Death.

Because being alone…was a horrible, horrible agony.

His finger shook with his own blood as he inscribed the blood seal—how did he know this? Where was this in the alchemy books? Oh, it had to have been somewhere if he remembered it, right?—on the inside of the neck of the armor.

Then, he did an entire transmutation circle. Not only on the floor—that wouldn't be enough, somehow—but on his arms, too.

Maybe he did one on his forehead, too. He couldn't remember.

All that mattered was Al. Al.

Come back to me, brother.

And then he did it. Without realizing it perhaps, he began the alchemy.

And it was worth it—oh, so worth the lost arm, forget the pain—to see the lights behind the eyes, and the craning of the armor's helmet, peering up at him in daze and confusion.

"B…brother…?"

Al.

No one could blame him when he eventually had trouble breathing.

Alone.

For one horrible moment, Alphonse Elric was alone in the world.

"B…brother…?"

Unresponsive.

His brother didn't move. Didn't twitch. Didn't flinch. Just lied there, a cooling body lying on a puddle of blood that didn't stop spreading. And why—why didn't it stop? He was losing so much; if he lost any more, then he would be—

Dead.

He knew it, and yet didn't. That cold, absolute reality that gripped his mind and heart with a terrible truth.

Edward Elric was dead.

His brother…his precious, brave and stupid older brother that came for him—that always did! He always came for Alphonse—never once did he fail in finding him, whether after an argument, or when he truly needed him—but he was always there. Always walking forward, pushing a smile on his face when the sun wasn't shining, just to protect him. To comfort his little brother.

Edward had never been good at showing love or affection. But his devotion had been the medium of his feelings, and Al had understood well enough.

After all, who wouldn't? After spending your entire life with someone—with your brother—with him being the only person you could truly depend upon, him being the only one who knew you inside and out, who saved you and cared for you and defended you and had come to rescue you, only to be slaughtered…

Edward Elric was dead.

And when that thought hit home, Alphonse Elric, son of Hohenheim and Trisha Elric, decided it wasn't worth it to be alone.

Because being alone…was a horrible, horrible agony.

His brother—his other half—his defender, his keeper, his leader. Seeing him lying motionless spurred Alphonse on as he stood, as he barked at Danté, and as he walked painfully, slowly forward, each step a hulking clank, clank, of his metal as he neared Edward's body.

No one tried to stop him. They screamed at him—sure. But that he could handle.

Perhaps they were afraid of interfering with him, the Philosopher's Stone. He didn't know. He didn't care.

Brother.

Edward was all that had ever mattered.

He touched his brother's cheek—still unable to feel the fading warmth, curse this horrid armor—and those eyes—those vague, pale, lifeless amber eyes—well, he couldn't look at those, either. But he knew because of the peach still lingering in his flesh, he wasn't too far gone.

This was still possible.

And when he saw the blood start to reenter Edward's body, those eyes regaining their spark of life—

Well. No one could blame him when he eventually had trouble breathing.

Krissey's Notes: Yes. It skips. Yes. It's most likely confusing. Yes. It follows the FMA Anime storyline, not the Brotherhood/Manga one (because I haven't SEEN/READ it yet). So...yes. I wrote this after watching the original anime series and the movie (QUITE AWESOME, IF I MAY SAY SO). But you must understand-the opportunity to explore the Elric brother's relationship-especially at the one point in time, for each of them, that they were completely alone in the world. They're so much the halves of one another, I think the separation would be murder. I just wanted to explore emotions more.

So kill me.

(...actually, don't. I do have a kleenex I was hoping to rule the world with. It would be a shame to never be able to use it.)

Rather, enjoy.