Mossmask: Huzzah for subtle references, whoo.
I literally have no idea what I just did here you tell me. I literally just wrote like 3 oneshots in the past hour and I can't stop. Somebody stop me.

~Dash

Infected
Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction
by The Cinderninja

Two toddlers pushed open the door to their house, laughing at each other. Their laughter died in their throats as the door swung open all the way and they saw their mother lying on the floor, still and unmoving.

Al was in a good mood when he pushed open the door to the dorm he and his brother shared when they were staying in Central. Nothing particularly good had happened to him while he was out, but nothing particularly bad had happened either, and that put him in a good mood. It was a rare occurrence for a day to go by without him and Ed encountering some sort of awful luck.

His mood immediately dropped when the door swung all the way open and he saw Ed lying on the floor. He wasn't sleeping, and he hadn't layed down on purpose. Al could tell from the way he'd landed that whatever he'd been doing at the time, he hadn't been expecting to collapse.

Al could have sworn he felt the heart he didn't have stop.

They ran over to her, crying for her to wake up. While the youngest tried to shake her awake, the eldest had already pulled out a chair from the table and pushed it up against the wall, reaching to grab the telephone and call for help.

Al was beside him in in instant, cradling the smaller boy. "Ed? Ed! Wake up!" But the little alchemist was pale and showed no signs of stirring. "Ed!"

Al knew he really ought'n't panic. But that was hard to keep in mind when he was holding his unconscious brother who for once, had no reason to be that way. But he managed it away. Still holding Ed, he found the room's telephone and found himself dialling Mustang. He didn't know why – it was just the first number to come to mind that he knew from memory.

He very nearly cursed as his large, leather gloves made him repeatedly misdial,but he eventually got through.

When they first found her, they thought she was dead. It came as a relief at first to learn that she wasn't, but the relief was short lived. She had a blood disease, apparently. Treatment was expensive, and didn't have very good chances of working, even if you had the money. They didn't, anyway.

"So?" Al asked, impatiently, yet still somehow remaining his quiet politeness. "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

"It would appear to be a genetic disease. A blood disorder."

"No." Al breathed quietly.

"Do you know if your family has any history of-"

"No!" Al announced, more forcefully. "It's not that."

"Ahuh?" The doctor questioned, intelligently.

"It's not that!" He repeated. "Go check again, because you're wrong. It isn't that."

The doctor stared at him a moment before scurrying off, choosing not to contradict the imposing suit of armor currently overriding his medical expertise.

"It can't be."

Two toddlers sat by their mother's bedside. One cried, and cried, and cried. The other sat silently and glared at anyone who got too close to him. But he never glared at his mom, not once. Not even when she wouldn't wake up to stop Al's crying. He hopped up and pulled his chair closer to Al's, so he could hold him. The younger brother grabbed his shirt and kept crying.

Al didn't leave his brother's side once. He had no reason to, and no one could make him. He didn't need to take breaks to eat or use the bathroom. He didn't need to shower or to sleep. And one look at the armor combined with a quick word from Mustang kept the hospital staff from even considering asking him to leave. No force on this Earth could get Alphonse to move from where he sat.

He was stoic, silent, and unmovable during the busier parts of the day, but the night nurses had all had a chance to hear the small, pathetic noises that came from the giant suit of armor.

She didn't wake up. She didn't even stir. She was completely still and silent. Some days, she would open her eyes. Sometimes what she said to the boys made sense. Sometimes, it was complete nonsense, and it frightened them.

An automail hand suddenly grabbed his own leather hand, and tightly. Al jolted, startled, and looked at his brother hopefully. Ed's eyes were open and focused on him, but confused. "...Huh? Where are we? This doesn't look like... like..." Ed trailed off, frowning. "Where are we?" He repeated. His eyes were closed again before Al could answer his question.

Ed's eyes were wide open, but they were staring unseeingly at the ceiling. "He- he's my little brother – he's all I have left!" A distraught sound came from somewhere inside the hollow armor as Al reached out and stroked Ed's hair until he drifted off again.

Ed groaned and blinked a few times. "Ah... a hospital? Aah, what'd I do this time?" He frowned, puzzled, before his eyes wandered over to Al, and he grinned. "Hey, Al." He tried to lift his fist to bump Al's armor, but found he didn't have the strength to lift the metal limb. He stared at it blankly for a minute before going back to sleep, untroubled.

"Who're you callin' so small even a flea needs glasses just to see 'im?" Ed wondered out loud, quietly, with more curiosity then fire. He was making eye contact with Al. Al sighed.

Ed pushed himself into a sitting position, despite Al's protests, and stared at his brother. His eyes were bright and clear. "Al, listen to me. I'll get over this. It'll take more then some stupid sickness to keep me down. I still have to get your body back, you hear me?" He just kept staring until Al nodded. "Good. Cause that's a promise."

"When's dad coming back?" he asked quietly.

They were both there when it happened. In fact, they were the only ones there. Ed and Al had both fallen asleep on the bed, curled up beside their mother. Ed woke up first, and he knew right away that the room was too quiet – too still. Even more so then it had been. He grabbed his mother's arm, and it was ice cold. All he'd had to do was look at her eyes and he'd known. There's a certainty in dead eyes that even the most ignorant child couldn't ignore. He'd screamed for her anyway, and his shouting had woken Al up.

When Al realized, he'd started crying and wailing again. The commotion had brought in the other adults – the lady-nurse who was staying in the house and Granny – and they'd eventually had to pry the boys away from the body when it became obvious they had no intentions of ever letting go.

Mossmask: I believe I left that relatively open ended? Heehee.

Concrit, please. Always with the concrit!