"Skeletons" Letter Ten

[crescent_moony]

Well, this is it... the last chapter of Skeletons. X3 ('Cept the epilogue, I guess. ^_^;)

*Can't think of anything more exciting to say*

...enjoy! :D

Title: Skeletons
Type: Chapter Fic-- Letter Ten
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Elricestx2
Warnings: Some drama, some humor, some fluff, some angst, and some much needed maturing.
Summary: Everyone has skeletons in their closet-- and Edward and Alexander Elric are about to find their grandfather's.



Disclaimer: FMA isn’t mine, but most of these characters are. X3

Author’s Note: Well, guys, here it is-chapter ten. The last one, ack! I can’t believe it… and I still can’t believe how much people enjoyed this fic! (I swear, I look back on the older chapters and cringe. ^_^;)

Everyone ready for this? Deep breath…

All right, here we go! Enjoy! XD

XXX

X

X

X

Dad and Grandpa had a surprisingly good relationship. I say “surprising” because Grandpa didn’t have a lot of relationships period, much less “good” ones. At least, not when I knew him. But he and Dad had always gotten along fairly well: sharing inside jokes, discussing days gone by, going out to eat every two weeks or so. Their arguments-when they had them-were typically mild, usually consisting of Grandpa complaining about… well, whatever he happened to find annoying that day… and Dad telling him that he didn’t know what he was talking about. Those spats would last a couple of hours, maybe a day, at worst, and then they’d both silently surrender and move on.

The last-and only- true fight I’d ever witnessed between them occurred when I was five. (Or, as I told anyone who would listen: “almost six.”) I’m not sure how it started, but I’m sure of how it ended: an excursion to America. My second, to be precise.

I don’t remember my first trip to the US; I was only a baby at the time. Essentially, I slept through it. I do, however, remember my second journey over the ocean-primarily because I was stuck in-between a motion-sick Al and a screaming Rosalie. Needless to say, the “vacation” didn’t improve once we’d landed: Rosie was in her terrible toddler years, and Alex had the flu. Couple that with Dad’s bad mood and Mom’s general weariness, I think it’s easy to understand why I acted like a brat the whole week. It wasn’t like we did anything fun, either-we simply went to clean out a house.

Yup. We spent the week cleaning out Grandpa’s old house.

Apparently-and I’m only surmising this, as I was rather young at the time and was kept in the dark because of it-Dad found out that Grandpa had never really sold his old house in Minnesota: he had simply left it sitting there with the doors locked. “A waste of money,” my father had called it; Grandpa countered by saying it was safer than putting his things in storage. Furious at “the old man’s impertinence,” Dad had booked us a flight to his old hometown. Once there, he personally saw to it that the house was put up for sale, and that the rest of Grandpa’s treasures were packed away in boxes. Boxes that, for the most part, ended up in our garage. Equivalent Exchange, I guess.

Though we spent the better part of seven days there, I don’t remember much of what Grandpa’s house looked like. I do recall that it reminded me of an M&M: blue on the outside, brown on the inside. Very brown, thanks to the wood flooring and walls and elegant oak decorations. Fancy, almost; prim. With an air of elegance.

An air that was shattered the instant my siblings and I walked through the door: screaming, fighting, sliding from room to room in our socks…

Another thing I remember is a feeling of profound disappointment: it looked like candy, but it sure didn’t smell like it. I hated the smell of the place-it stank of old. The furniture, the trinkets (there were a lot of trinkets), the rooms themselves… they all reeked of “oldness.” And let’s just say that the décor didn’t help: everything was outdated and well-worn, from the kitchen to the pictures on the walls. I spent a long time wondering how Dad could possibly stand growing up in a house like that, where everything was creepy and ancient and dull. Where was the park? Where was the TV? Where were the toys? He laughed when I asked him; said it had been livelier when his parents lived there-the house was always full of warm smells and music. (And yes, he’d had toys.)

As if on cue, Alex began to pound enthusiastically on the piano in the corner.

But the thing I disliked most about the old house-besides the age, and the smell, and, well, just about everything else- were the photographs. And they were everywhere, just like in Grandpa’s apartment: all faded and gray and dusty and staring, with faces too familiar for comfort. Dad told me they were of Grandpa and his friends, but they sure didn’t look like Grandpa. They looked more like… well, me. Or dad, or Alex. And a woman with Rosie’s eyes. Who were these people? I wondered. Where were they now? Why were they smiling? Why wouldn’t they stop? Were they watching me?

It’s funny, really, how a child’s mind works. But still... I think, if I were to see those photos now,-now that I know of the people and places and times… I’d probably ask the same questions.

X

X

X

XXX

Skeletons

XXX

Silence, Alexander had long since discovered, was heavy. And awkward. And nearly as painful as listening to Elvis on the radio. At least, during times like this: stuck in the car with no one but his mom, both neck-deep in their own thoughts. Thoughts that Alex knew better than to share, though his mother, judging by the glances she kept flicking his way, desperately hoped he would.

Given the choice, he would have picked listening to Elvis.

And though Teri seemed to feel the same way about being submersed in silence-timid and uncomfortable-she had somehow come to the conclusion that forced conversation was the better ice-breaker, rather than the mercy of the radio. With that decision made, she readjusted her hands on the steering wheel and, trying to sound casual, asked: “So… do you want to drive home?”

Alex buried his chin deep in the palm of his hand, leaning against the window. The usual scenery crawled by; too tedious and familiar to hold his interest. He closed his eyes. “No, Mom.”

His mother’s lips turned down thoughtfully. “You need another 19 hours of practice before you can get your license.”

“I’ll practice later,” he mumbled, taking a deep breath. Only another ten minutes to go, and he’d be there. Only ten minutes… But it was sure to feel like an eternity, stuck in the car with his mom. Why was it that when he got rides from Ed, this trip flew by; and now…?

He smiled wryly. ‘Okay, stupid question.’

“-n’t see Edward anymore?”

A warning bell went off in Alexander’s head.

Straightening with a stab of dread in the pit of his stomach, the boy’s eyes snapped open. “What?” he gasped, trying not to sound as petrified as he felt. Edward? Why was Mom talking to him about Edward? Had she figured it out despite-? “What did you say?”

Bemused by his reaction and unexpected blush, Teri arched an eyebrow. “I…uh, asked why you don’t go see Edward anymore,” she repeated, frown deepening. “It’s been a long time since you last went out… at least, I assume so: you’ve had dinner with the family every night. Did you have a fight with him? Are you not talking?”

‘She really has no idea…’ Alex forced his body to relax, trying to disappear into his seat. “You could say that.”

“Oh… I see,” His mother murmured, sounding disappointed. Brow furrowing, she paused to let some pedestrians pass. Once they had and were waving their thanks, she spoke again, softly. “… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” her son inquired, voice monotonous even to his own ears. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Sure I did,” she whispered, apologetic and suddenly small. Her fingers tightened on the wheel; it was as if she were the child being interrogated. Bewildered and rather alarmed by this turn of events, Alexander watched her expression sadden. “I knew, didn’t I? That you were meeting Edward-taking food from the cupboards for him, keeping him company, things like that. I took the thrill out of it once I told you I’d figured out what you were doing. But Alex, please understand: I didn’t mean to scare you or spoil your fun. I just wanted to let you know that I wasn’t mad. That I was proud of you for helping your brother.” Teri smiled forlornly, eyebrows knit together. “That’s all.”

Alexander said nothing; the silence returned. But in the end, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t think of anything to say- that he couldn’t decide how he felt about his mother’s confession- because they had arrived at his piano teacher’s house.

Like he had so many times before, Alex bolted from the car without looking back.

X

November, 2001

Dear Al,

Life has been-for lack of a better word-rather dull, lately. I spend most of my time reading or writing…sometimes I go to museums, but doing so generally depresses me, so I’ve held back on that. Instead, I find new libraries and tear through their books and newspapers. Some of the nicer librarians even let me keep the older articles I come across; I’ve begun pinning them to the wall and making a timeline.

I told you things were dull.

But it’s still nice, in a way. The dullness, I mean. It’s nice to have time to think and read and drink tea and be lazy, without having to worry about what I should be doing. Of course, I’d get restless if that was all I did... Luckily, I do have other responsibilities.

Such as babysitting our grandkids while Benjamin and Teri work.

Edward has a little brother and sister, now. I don’t see much of Rosalie-she’s only a few months old, so she stays home with Teri, more often than not. But his brother, Alexander, usually comes here with Edward. He’s a sweet little boy, always carrying around a stuffed animal. Ironically, he looks more like you than Benjamin does; a nice companion for Edward, who looks more and more like a younger me every day. I have to say, it can be more than slightly disturbing- like an endless out-of-body experience. But most of the time it’s clear that they are their own people, so I try not to think about it too much.

Except when I have to break up their many, many fights. Then I think about us. A lot.

But I don’t want to angst right now; I’d much rather write about Edward and Alex.

They’re certainly a pair, I’ve got to say-and whenever they’re over, life is no longer ‘dull.’ Edward seems to have inherited my bad temper (or perhaps that’s just him being the four-year-old he is) and has the tendency to pick on Alexander no matter what they’re doing. So far, Alex has yet to rise to a fight; he prefers to just start crying. Either that, or he gets sick.

When that happens, Teri takes him home. I can’t stomach watching him when he’s sick; I panic.

I’m sure you understand why.

On those days (and there are quite a few of them), it’s just me and Edward. He acts like a brat sometimes, but he’s really a good kid; usually I just give him some crayons and paper and he’s set until it’s time to go home. Other times, we talk. He has a hell of a lot to say, for being such a tiny thing. And it’s funny-for all he complains about Alex, he likes talking about him the best. (Though now that I think about it, I used to be like that, too, didn’t I?)

Anyway, I’ve got to get going. “Nap time” is almost over, and I promised Edward and Alex a story when they woke up.

-Ed

X

Piano lessons with Mrs. Marie Carter began promptly at 4:30 (the moment her young son had been put down for his nap), and continued-without interruption or pause-until the hands of the grandfather clock in the hallway indicated a full hour had passed. This was the way Alexander’s Thursday afternoons had run since he was four years old; save the week Mrs. Carter had given birth to William, and the time he’d puked all over her baby grand and was sent home. Other than those two instances, however, the schedule was inflexible, unalterable, and rigorous.

As were Mrs. Carter’s teaching habits.

“Wrong!”

Slap!

“Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!”

Alex yelped in pain as the well-worn yardstick eagerly re-acquainted itself with his raw fingers, pages of sheet music scattering in the wake of its path. “Ow!” he whimpered as the ruler slowed, half-heartedly rubbing the back of his abused hands. “That hurt… You didn’t have to hit me so many times!”

“And you didn’t have to kill all of the fucking butterflies!” Mrs. Carter roared, black eyes glittering maliciously as she jabbed at the fallen pages of Debussy’s “Butterfly Etude.” “It’s supposed to be joyful, dammit, not a funeral march!”

“Well, chopping off my hands isn’t going to make me play any better!” Alex snapped, forehead furrowing in irritation. He even mustered the courage to glare… though he directed the glare at the floor, rather than his teacher. (He did wish to live though the lesson.) “Look, I screwed up, okay? I’m sorry…”

Marie quirked an eyebrow, inwardly startled by her student’s defiant grumbles. Alex? Talking back? Shocked disapproval rolled off of her body in nearly-tangible waves; she lifted her beloved straightedge over her head.

Unsurprisingly, Alex quickly changed his tune, both literally and figuratively. Right hand plunking out the now-familiar melody, he lowered his eyes and bit his bottom lip, rapidly blinking. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled a second time, though in a voice so clearly broken that Marie realized it was no use.

The yardstick fell.

Well, she’d tried.

Sighing, Mrs. Carter lowered herself onto the piano bench, easily finding notes that complimented the nameless lullaby Alexander was picking out. Thankful for the temporary distraction, the boy slid down the bench to give her more room. Unfortunately, his teacher’s silence was short lived.

“All right, Alex, this is getting stupid,” she groused, tan brow puckering with edginess. Still, her ebony eyes held an unusual amount of worry; her voice gentle beneath its usual bite. “You’ve been moping for nearly forty-five minutes, now. We’ve gotten nothing done. You’ve just butchered a masterpiece-a masterpiece that you chose yourself and played wonderfully last week. Something is obviously troubling you, and God dammit, we are going to discuss it now, because I will not let some teen-angst problem get in the way of your performance.”

Her thin, dark fingers outlined an ominous chord; she cast her protégé a warning glance.

For a long moment, Alex said nothing: careful to keep his eyes on the ivory keys, watching his hands dance across them. But after a cumbersome pause and another warning tap of the yardstick, he grunted, glancing out the lacy-curtained windows. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled weakly, jabbing at middle C. “It’s dumb, it’s just… I’m having a hard time… being a good person.”

Marie glowered, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement disturbed her long dreadlocks; they swayed lazily, bouncing against her back. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I…” Alexander hesitated- then remembered the ruler. The information would only be beaten out him if he resisted… For some reason, the thought made him smile. Thinly, perhaps; sadly. But still. “I... well, I fell in love with someone,” he admitted quietly, cheeks flushing crimson behind his curtain of hair. “Rather, I’ve been in love with someone. For a long time, now… Then, a few months ago, we found out our feelings were mutual, and things were great. But…” Swallowing thickly, Alex pressed down on the keys until his fingers hurt. Why was it that whenever he told this story-no matter how often-he always felt sick at this part? “But we can’t be together. It’s not possible. We have no future. Society and… and other things are in the way. So I broke up with… this person. Because that’s the only way we’ll ever be happy. But even though it’s been nearly two weeks, I just… I just can’t…”

His hands slipped off the keyboard; the absence of music was painful. Marie waited, for once patient… and Alex heard the words tumble from his tongue before he had a chance to stop them.

“I love him.”

He choked, horrified; covering his mouth with shaking fingers. But despite the barricade, the words kept right on falling… “I love him. So, so much… I never stopped loving him! But I don’t want to be a burden to him- I want him to be happy. I want him to succeed. He can’t do that with me around! And me… Even though it’s selfish, I want to be happy, too. I want to live my life; I want to go places and do things! I know this has to get better, but my heart hurts so badly right now, I feel like I’m dying. I feel like… I’ll never be happy again.”

Laughing bitterly, the boy took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I know this must sound pointless to you; just another teenage drama. But it’s… it’s different, Teacher. It really is. And the more I think about it, the more it tears me up inside, even though I swore to myself that I wouldn’t let it…”

Alexander broke off with a snuffle, mentally smacking himself with Rosalie’s screwdriver. How could he have said so much? Was he suicidal? However, if Mrs. Carter had grown annoyed with his rambling-or horrified by his affections for another man- she didn’t show it. Instead, she pursed her lips, meditative, and plunked out a mournful “Chopsticks.”

Alex waited a minute, then, for lack of anything better to do or say, joined in. He continued to play even after his teacher decided to speak.

“Okay… let me make sure I have this right,” Marie droned, like this was some huge bother, as her fingers jumped an octave. “You were in love with someone, but you broke up with them because…?”

“Because I want us to be happy,” Alexander said glumly, fully sick of having to repeat this. “Do to our... situation, we can’t ever be happy together.”

“And I take it you’re happy now?” Mrs. Carter inquired flatly, leaning away from the piano with a skeptic scowl. Her student didn’t reply. “And your partner is happy, too, right? Because he took all of those risks you alluded to merely to be told he’d be better off without you?”

Still nothing.

“I see,” Marie drawled, infinitely bored. Drumming her short fingernails against her lean forearm, she released an exasperated sigh. For a moment, Alex thought he might have to face The Ruler, regardless of his previous cooperation; but when she spoke again, it was in a much calmer tone- softer, somehow. Understanding. “Well, kid, it’s your call. What you do or don’t do doesn’t affect me one way or another. Of course, the same could be said of everyone else.”

Nonplussed, Alexander cast his piano instructor a sideways look.

“It’s good that you’re taking other people’s opinions into consideration, I suppose,” Mrs. Carter continued blandly, examining a family portrait hanging above the piano. “But Alex, at the end of the day, what does it matter to them? I mean, think about it: you’re going to meet a lot of people in your life, no matter where you go or what you do. Still, no matter how long you know them, and no matter how long you’re friends, you’re still going to be stuck with yourself and your decisions much, much longer. Until you die. And really, if you’re going to be unhappy either way… why not be unhappy with the person who makes you happy?”

She grinned lightly, tilting her head with a wink. “You know?”

Uncomfortably aware of how much sense this logic made, Alex began to twist a lock of his hair, genuinely nervous. “…that’s what Rosie says,” he confessed softly, unable to keep his voice from cracking. “And Edward, too. But… but I’m not…”

“Not everyone can be as strong as your brother and sister,” Marie soothed gently, warm eyes crinkling as she smiled. “I know that. And I know it sucks to be compared to them. But I’m not telling you to be someone else-I’m telling you to be who you are. To be someone you can live with at the end of each day. Because only you have to-not anybody else, no matter what they say. Moreover, it’s none of their business, anyway.”

Alexander’s lips curled sourly, trying to swallow a bitter laugh. “It sounds good when you say it, Mrs. Carter,” he grumbled, “but people make things their business. It’s just the way things are.”

Marie shrugged. “If you say so. I’m not going to argue this with you, Alex; we’d be here all day. All I’m saying is that if someone really loves you, they’ll want you to be happy. That said, I can see why you tried to do what you did; you really do care about this guy and think you’re doing the right thing. But honey, let me put this bluntly: if he’s in half the state you are, it’s not working.” She chuckled; a rumbling, velvety chuckle that reminded Alexander of his brother. His heart thudded agonizingly against his ribcage, so loudly that it almost drowned out Mrs. Carter’s next words: “I want you to be happy, Alex- as does the person you care about. I’m sure of it… Just like I’m sure that you’re not happy now.”

Alex faltered on an arpeggio. “Not happy now…” he echoed mechanically, silvery eyes veiled by thought. After a moment of absentminded silence, he shook his head, lips twisting into a scowl. “No… no. No, I’m not happy, now,” he repeated, eyes widening as if this were news. Of course it wasn’t; he’d known all along how terrible he felt. But all the same… to be told so frankly by someone who had no idea… “I’m not happy at all!” he hissed, fingers flying across the keyboard as rage crackled to life behind the gray of his irises. “I’m miserable!”

With a whirl of auburn hair, he turned his head towards Marie, glowering. “And you know whose fault it is?”

Taken aback by her pupil’s emotional 180, Mrs. Carter blinked. “Uh… whose?”

“Mine!” Alex snarled, hands moving faster and faster, pounding out what sounded like Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony on fast-forward. “It’s all my fault! Dammit all, but Rosie is right-every time I see a bump in the road, I panic and run in the opposite direction! I’m irrational! I jump to conclusions! I have a talent for taking great things in my life and ruining them, just because I assume something will go wrong! Because I’m too much of a coward to fight for what I want! Brother could do it; he did it! He was mature enough to make a stand-why didn’t I?! God, why am I such an idiot?! It’s not a crime to be happy!”

By that point, tears were streaming down Alex’s face-so fast and furious that he had yet to notice them; though his fingers kept slipping on the puddles they left on the piano keys. Plainly stunned, Marie could only watch his break down, unsure if speaking would cause him to snap. Hell, she wasn’t sure if he even realized she was there, anymore. “It’s not a crime to be happy,” Alexander repeated firmly, as though reaffirming this with himself. “It’s not a crime for people to love each other!”

Banging out a final, rushed chord, Alex leapt to his feet and bolted without so much as a goodbye. The door slammed; William awoke with a scream; the grandfather clock chimed 5:30.

Marie blinked. “Um…”

Without warning, the door just as suddenly crashed open; a hurried voice shouted: “ThankyouTeacherI’llbebacknextweek!”

Mrs. Carter winced as the foyer shook a second time.

Then, with a careless shake of her head, she smiled; standing to comfort her baby. “There better be freakin’ flurries of butterflies next week, that’s all I’m saying.”

She left the room with a quiet laugh.

X

July, 2003

Dear Al,

It’s lonely at night.

It’s not so bad during the day-Teri drops Edward, Alex, and Rosalie off in the mornings, and I watch them until Benjamin comes to take them home. Once in a while, I go with them to dinner; other times I just say goodbye. I love playing with them, but it’s nice to enjoy some quiet, too.

Sometimes, though, it’s too quiet. Like at night. And I feel sort of empty.

To counter that, I’ve been re-reading this journal more often than usual; thinking back on other times and jotting memories down in notebooks-both for entertainments sake and to keep from forgetting. It’s sort of cathartic, really… though I’m not quite sure what I’ll do with the notebooks when I’m done with them. Maybe I’ll give them to Teri. She seems to enjoy re-hearing the stories Annya told her, even if I’m the one telling them, this time. (After all, they were our stories to begin with.)

Unfortunately, remembering all of our adventures has the tendency to make me nostalgic. Depressed. Curious. Even now, I wonder what happened to them, from time to time; Mustang and Hawkeye and Armstrong and Winry and Rose and Noah and all of our friends. Do you think they ever wondered what happened to us?

Probably, though I doubt they’d have ever guessed the truth.

It’s funny… our worlds- this one and our homeland- are both so big, and full of so many people and stories… and yet they’re still empty enough to feel lonely on quiet nights like this.

-Ed

X

Teri Elric had never been a fan of surprises.

Squeaking, the grown woman dropped her book and nearly jumped a mile; pounding on her chest in an attempt to re-start the heart that had stopped when the car door slammed loudly-and abruptly-shut. “Alex, you startled me!” she breathed, rapidly regaining her composure. But though her frazzled nerves were calming down, her worry swiftly spiked; she anxiously watching her silent son buckle his seatbelt, glaring at the dashboard. “Alex…?” his mother blinked, baffled by sullen his behavior. Normally piano lessons cheered him up… “Sweetie, what’s wrong? What happ-?”

“I want to go home,” Alexander interrupted smoothly, his voice tainted by a steely, authoritative note that made Teri pause. Noticing the falter, Alex flashed his mom a brief, strained grin. “…please.”

“A-all right…” Unsure of what to say to this, his mother nodded, pulling out of Marie’s driveway and onto the road. Once they’d begun plowing through the streets, she cast her son another nervous glance. “Alex, you’re shaking-!”

“I know,” the brunette assured curtly, clasping his hands together. It was, however, no use: the trembling wouldn’t stop. “I know, Mom, but don’t worry. I’m fine. I just realized something important, that’s all. And I’ve got to get home-there’s something I need to do.”

Teri digested this news, her face darkened by dozens of unformed questions. But when she opened her mouth again, having finally settled on one, Alex shook his head.

“Please, Mom,” he whispered, nearly begging; curling up in his seat. “I promise I’ll talk to you later, if you want, but not now. Right now, I just want to think. Is that okay…?”

His mother hesitated, pursing her lips. Then she nodded, an understanding smile touching her lips.

They drove in silence once more, but this time, Alex didn’t care-his mind was whirling, swimming, and screaming too loudly for him to notice a lack of other noises. ‘I will do this,’ he told himself. ‘I’m sick of running and acting scared! I’m sick of being a spineless joke!’ His hands trembled fiercely; he resolutely set his mouth.

Fifteen more minutes and he’d be home…

Alex’s stomach lurched, his heart throbbing painfully. He couldn’t lose his nerve; he was going to do this…!

Desperate to cling to every last ounce of courage and fortitude he possessed, the boy looked around for something to distract his writhing innards-something to keep his will strong until he got home. ‘Something… anything…!’

As they usually did, his hands found his grandfather’s diary: hidden deep in the pockets of his cargo pants. Pulling it out, Alexander flipped to his bookmark…

And realized with a jolt of astonishment that he’d come to the final entry.

X

September, 2005

Dear Al,

Today I have officially lived a century.

God, that even feels weird to write.

100 years… there have been so many times when I should have died, or I wished I’d die, or-hell, I have died. And yet, here I am.

Edward, Alex, and Rosie came to see me, today. All by themselves, too-they were so proud of themselves for having made it. They were equally proud of the birthday presents they had brought me: Edward had drawn a picture of the four of us together, Alex had made a noodle necklace in school, and Rosie had picked a daisy and dandelion bouquet. (They flowers had long since died in her backpack, but I put them in water, anyway. It made her happy.) I had a good time with them; I think I laughed more than I have in weeks. But when it was time for them to leave and Edward told me “see you later”…

Well, I knew that he wouldn’t.

Call it a premonition, if you will; or maybe just a feeling… but I think this is the end. In fact, I know it is. 100 years is a long time to run, Al. I’m ready to rest for a while.

Actually, I’m kind of looking forward to it. After everything we’ve been though, death isn’t that scary of a prospect. Even if I have to see the Gate again… what is there possibly left to take from me?

Besides, that’s where you’d be, right? Wherever death takes me… you’ll be there.

And I think that will be the best birthday gift of all.

There are many things about my life that I, to this day, still regret. There are many things about my life that I’ll always wish that I could change. But you… you and me, our relationship, our love… I wouldn’t give them up for anything in the world. Hell, I would do it all again if it meant that we could be together. It would be worth it; every second.

I love you, Alphonse. I always have, and I always will.

I just thought that you should know.

I’ll see you soon, little brother.

Love,
Ed

X

“Alex? Alexander, honey?”

His mother’s gentle voice shook Alex from his thoughts; he noticed with a start that the car was no longer moving. They were home. “Alexander, are you all right? You’re crying…”

Which really, Alex thought with a sardonic grin, shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone, anymore. Regardless, he beamed at his mother, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and stuffing the little book back into his pocket. “It’s nothing,” he assured, clearing his throat with a tiny cough. “Just a bit of motivation.”

Teri’s features contorted with confusion, but-as asked- she didn’t inquire any further. Instead, she watched noiselessly as her son unbuckled and marched from the car: face stony and wet and flushed with determination. But determination to do what?

More than slightly curious, she followed him inside.

X

Benjamin Elric was a creature of habit. There was a rhythm to his life, a flow to his daily activities. He woke up at 4 AM, jogged for half an hour, showered, and left for work by 5. There he stayed until 5 PM, returning home by 6. After changing into more comfortable clothes, he settled down in his study to read, write, or-if the urge struck him-work some more. The family ate dinner at 8, then spent “quality time” together (usually in the form of watching TV) until 10. After that, he generally went to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Of course, the benefit of this repetitiveness was that when Alex stormed into the house at 6:08, he knew exactly where to find his father.

“Come in.”

Alexander took a deep breath, lowering the fist he’d used to knock on the thick maple door. It was now or never… Nodding to himself, the boy entered Benjamin’s study.

The study was, perhaps, the fanciest room in the Elric household. Decorated with dark green wallpaper and luxurious cherry wood furnishings, the study was illuminated by two slim, silver lamps and an elegant bay window. Directly beneath the window was a built-in bench, covered in burgundy pillows, and beside it, shelves full of books. In the corner, on large oak desk, sat an expensive, whirling laptop. And behind the desk, in a black leather swivel chair, sat Benjamin Elric, reading a newspaper and twirling a pen between his fingers. When Alex walked in, however, he lowered the paper and pen and smiled, spinning around in his seat and readjusting his glasses. “Ah, Alex! This is a surprise. What can I help you w-have you been crying?”

‘Why is that such a surprise to people?’ “Dad,” Alexander declared, deciding to ignore his question, “I have to talk to you. Now.” Taking a single step into the room and closing the door behind him, the brunette subtly squeezed the brass doorknob between his clammy fingers. “It’s important.”

Apparently torn between mild concern and general perplexity, Benjamin arched an eyebrow, fixing his full attention on his youngest son. “Yes…?”

This was it. Heart thundering in his chest-so quickly he feared it might pop-, Alex released the doorknob, standing straight and tall. He wasn’t going to back down; he wasn’t going to crumble. He was going to do this… for both of the Edwards in his life. “Dad,” he proclaimed, in a voice so oddly calm that he nearly fooled himself, “I’m gay.”

Silence. Much like the kind in the car-only infinitely more foreboding.

Gradually, Benjamin Elric began to turn a pasty shade of white, face a mask of surprise. “W…?”

“I’m gay,” Alexander said again, astonished to find how light he felt after the admission had left him. “I’ve never really liked girls, not even Zena. At least, not in that way. But there is this guy that I’ve been in love with… for a long time, now. And I thought I’d let you know, because I’m tired of having to hide it.”

Alex paused, watching to see if his father had processed any of his speech. It was hard to tell: Benjamin’s mind appeared to have stopped working upon hearing the word “gay.” Though it didn’t really matter; that was the important part of the announcement, anyway.

Not wanting to shatter any remaining portion of his father’s brain, the brunette waited for Benjamin to come out of shock. He didn’t have to wait long.

“You…” his father gaped, choking on words. His cheeks were darkening, splotching dangerously. Alexander inched backwards, but held his stance. “You… no. No. No, it’s just- you’re just-”

“Dad,” Alex firmly interrupted, trying to quash his growing frustration as Benjamin bolted to his feet, pacing in place. “Dad, please. Just listen! I really am-!”

“No!” his father snapped, whipping around to face his son. “No! You’re just confused! You’ve just been around Rosalie and- and Edward and-!”

“No!” Alex roared-so loudly that Benjamin faltered; so loudly that the two women lurking behind the door both yelped, revealing their shared hiding place. But Alexander didn’t even pause long enough to glare at his sister and mother: he was too angry to care. “No! It’s not Rosie or Ed’s fault! I’ve always been this way, just like Edward has! Why can’t you understand that? Why can’t you just accept it? It doesn’t change who I am! It doesn’t change who Brother is! Is your love so conditional that we can’t even be who we are?”

Benjamin froze, eyes widening; fury bubbling just beneath his skin. “Now listen here-” he snarled venomously, but was cut off by a furious chop of Alexander’s hand.

“You listen here!” the boy screamed, so enraged that he wasn’t even trembling anymore. Hell, he felt wonderful-he felt free. All of the guilt and stress and dread and rage he’d kept bottled up for so long had finally broken through, and he couldn’t believe how good it felt to let it out. “All this time I’ve thought there was something wrong with me, but no-something is wrong with you! God, if Grandpa could see you now-!”

In an instant, his father found his voice again, eyes flashed warningly. “Don’t you dare-!” Benjamin began in a virulent rumble, but was utterly ignored.

“Shut up!” his son spat, fingers curling into fists; nails digging so deeply into the palms of his hands that they started to bleed. “Just shut up! You know it’s true! If you can’t love your children for who they are, then-then- then even Grandpa would hate you!”

Staggered, his father gaped wordlessly, all blood rushing from his face. His mother and Rosie simply gawked. Alexander allowed himself three deep breaths.

Then he ran.

“Alex-?” Rosalie started, frantic; moving to follow her brother down the hall. “Alex, wait! Where’re you going-?”

“I’m going to see Edward!” the brunette screeched, so much adrenaline pumping through his small body that he couldn’t stop yelling or stomping or panting. His feet flew across the hardwood floor; he ripped open the door.

And there stood Amy, face paling in shock, a finger raised to ring the doorbell.

“Er…” the younger girl choked, turning scarlet.

Behind him, Alex could hear Rosie stiffen. Their mother, too, paused. Benjamin, on the other hand, was noticeably absent: probably still in the study, digesting what had just taken place. Or raiding the liquor cabinet. Either way, Alexander didn’t give a damn. He had only one goal, right now-and nobody was going to stand in his way.

“I’m gay,” he told Amy fiercely, yanking on his shoes and jacket with so much force that they nearly ripped. The girl in the doorway watched this blankly, unsure of what the hell was going on. Alexander fixed her with a ferocious stare; she gave a double take.

“Uh…” Amy gawked, only then remembering to lower her hand. Cautiously, her eyes swept over to Rosalie, darted to Teri, and then returned to the fuming Alex. “Okay…?”

Alex nodded, apparently pleased by her acceptance, before continuing confidently. “I love him, you know.”

The girl blinked, momentarily startled. But to Alexander’s mild astonishment, the expression of bewilderment quickly melted away: replaced by a warm, meaningful smile. “…I know you do.”

That was all that needed to be said. Flashing Amy a grateful grin, Alex rushed past- and as he did so, he saw Rosie beam; quietly asking Amy if she wanted to come in.

X

From personal experience, Alexander knew that the walk to Edward’s apartment was half an hour. He also knew that-if he chose to take the bus-the trip would be less work, but lengthened by as much as ten minutes. Finally, after many nights of “calculations,” he had determined that traveling this path with Edward himself could take anywhere from 35 minutes to an hour. (Depending, of course, on how playful they were feeling that night.)

Up until today, however, the boy had been unaware that running the whole way would shorten the journey down to a measly sixteen minutes and 48 seconds.

Tightening his jacket around his body, Alex bolted across the slush-covered streets, leaning into the biting wind. “Almost there…” he told himself, concentrating all of his strength and energy on getting to that dumb, hazardous, disintegrating apartment that he’d missed more than words could say. He was only a block away, now- yes, there was the bank, and the grocery store, and the coffee shop. “Almost…!”

And there it was. As old and rundown as it had ever been: unsafe, unprotected, and-in his eyes- perfect. For once thankful for the unlocked doors, Alexander raced inside, jumping up the disgusting, stained steps two at a time. He was winded by that point: exhausted and sure that the smoke-scented air was wrecking havoc on his lungs, but really, who cared? Nothing could stop him now, not when he was so close-!

361.

His feet turned to lead; all air left him; his body stood, immobile. “Edward…” he heard himself whisper, voice bursting of so many different emotions that even he couldn’t decipher them all. But that didn’t matter-the only thing that did was seeing his brother. “Edward!” Alex repeated, louder this time; accompanying the shout with a loud knock. Really, it was more like two-fisted pounding… “Brother! Brother, please open the door!”

There was no sound on the other side; no movement and no response.

Involuntarily, Alexander’s heart began to speed up again; sheer panic gnawing on his gut. ‘Why isn’t Edward opening the door? Am I being ignored? Is he still angry? Is he not there?’ Alex’s eyes widened, a lump forming in his throat. ‘Oh God, he can’t not be there! Where else would he be? He wouldn’t have left, would he? Not without telling us, right? But-but we were all ignoring him, so maybe-!’ “Ed?! Edward!” Alex yelled, bashing his hands against the door until they started to bruise. Of all the times to have left his key at home…! “Edward, please-! I’m sorry! I… I’m sorry, Brother! I’m sorry…”

Hiccupping, Alexander slid down the wall, head hanging low and thin chest heaving. “Dammit-!” he hissed vehemently, dark eyes jammed shut against tears. “Dammit, this is not the time to panic…!” No- no, he couldn’t panic. He couldn’t overreact. Overreacting had gotten him into this mess in the first place; he was going to be calm about this. Rational.

‘Edward can’t have left,’ Alex thought decisively, clenching his sore fingers. ‘He can’t. He wouldn’t have… not without saying good-bye, at least. And, I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t been around. He’s been at school… I think. I don’t see him much, but there’d be gossip if he didn’t show up… no, he’s not gone. He’s not. He’s probably out taking a walk, or at work, or something. I’ll just wait here until he gets back…’

Alexander forced himself to take a deep, cleansing breath. But even that couldn’t stop the poisonous thoughts from entering his head: What if he doesn’t come back?

Worse yet, what if he came back and refused to talk to him? What if he came back and told Alex that he hated him? What if he just pretended that Alex wasn’t there?

For the second time in less than five minutes, sheer horror tore at Alexander’s insides; a pathetic whimper oozed from between his quivering lips. “No,” the boy hissed, clawing at the shabby wallpaper with his wavering hands, face lowered and hair curtaining his view. “No! I will not cry… I will not panic… I will stay calm and wait and everything will be okay. I will not cry… I will not panic…. I will stay calm and wait and e-!”

“Al…?”

There was a piercing ripping sound as Alex accidentally tore off a chunk of wallpaper, jolting upright so fast that he nearly lost his balance. “Edward-!”

And it was. Dressed in those old jeans, a gray turtleneck, and his colorful lab coat, Edward Elric stood; head cocked, long hair loose, a grocery bag resting against his left hip and his keys in his right hand. Apart from the expression of disbelief on his face, Ed looked exactly like he always had: tall and beautiful and everything Alex had ever hoped for. It was a sight so delightfully familiar that it brought tears to Alexander’s eyes: huge, seeping crocodile tears that he didn’t even bother trying to stop-he just let them flow, landing in huge drops on the grimy carpet.

Edward’s eyes widened; he dropped the paper sack beside his feet. “Al? Alex, what’re you doing here?” he asked, sounding both shocked and fretfully worried. “What’s wrong-what happened? Are you-?”

But Ed trailed off the moment Alexander spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

The older boy’s jaw slackened in incredulity, unsure whether or not he’d heard right. It was an understandable hesitation: Alex was crying so hard, it was a bit difficult to understand what he was saying.

But he continued anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Alex reiterated, silver eyes locking with the vibrant gold of his lover’s. “I’m so sorry, Brother… I didn’t mean to hurt you, I only wanted to help- I did! I really did-! But the more time passed, the more I realized that I wasn’t helping anyone, and I missed you, and Rosie got mad, and Amy did too, and Teacher told me that I was being stupid, and I was, and I couldn’t stand being away from you anymore, andsoItoldDadIwasgay,andthenIcamehere,becauseIneededtoseeyousothatIcouldtellyouhowsorryIambecauseeventhoughItriednotto,Iloveyou,andI’msorryIdidallofthis;IwasscaredandstupidandchildishbutI’verealizedthatIwanttoworkforusbecauseIloveyousomuchandI’msorry!” he babbled, so rapid and breathless that Edward had no chance of catching a word, but he listened intently just the same.

And when Alex finished with a wet, shaking sniffle, he smiled.

Then he opened his arms.

Without another word, Alex fell, sobbing, into the well-missed warmth, never wanting to let go again.

X

“Do you think these are all right?”

“Yes, Al, they’re fine.”

“I don’t know… maybe we should just bring them home and put them in a vase. Do you think he’d like that more?”

“They’re already dead, Al. They’ll only get deader wherever you put them.”

“Yeah, but we could appreciate them longer… I think he might like that. Or maybe I should just plant flowers… geez, I should have thought this through! I don’t even know if he likes Tiger lilies!”

The brunette’s heated rant was interrupted by a laborious sigh.

“Alex,” Edward groaned, clearly exasperated, “relax. He is- like the flowers- already dead. I really don’t think he’ll care one way or another.”

“Brother!” Alexander snapped, cheeks pinking as his eyes narrowed coldly, “don’t be so heartless! Just because he’s dead, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t consider his feelings! I don’t want to insult his memory…”

Deciding it’d be safer not to comment, Ed instead chose to roll his eyes, fixing the kickstand of his motorcycle. Rather, fixing the kickstand of the motorcycle he’d snitched from Todd’s impressive collection. (Stupid rich kid and his expensive toys.) Alexander patiently watched him do so, cradling a bouquet of brilliant orange flowers in his small arms. At the same time, the alarm on his wristwatch beeped: they were officially late. Regardless, neither seemed to be in any sort of hurry; when Edward straightened from his inspection with a lazy nod, Alexander smiled, taking the hand offered to him.

“Do we remember where we’re going?” the older boy inquired with a jovial lilt, brushing past a snow-heavy pine and shaking the flakes from its ever-green branches. Alexander made a vague sort of gesture with his shoulders, eyeing the hazy, gunmetal sky.

“I dunno, I was sorta planning on following you.”

“Wonderful,” Ed smirked, chuckling under his breath. “Rosie will maim us for keeping them waiting… but if I’m gonna be helplessly lost-or maimed-, I’d much rather be so with you.” He paused before adding in afterthought: “Though hopefully we’ll only get lost.”

Alex snorted. “Lost, huh? That sounds rather romantic,” he complimented, grinning humorously and tightening his mitten-covered fingers around his brother’s. “You and I, an empty…field… the promise of a storm, and a bunch of old dead people.”

There was a beat of stunned silence, then Edward laughed out loud; voice bouncing through the cemetery as a frosty wind toyed with his ponytail. “‘A bunch of old dead people’?” he echoed, still snickering at Alex’s bluntness. “Geez, Al, who’s heartless now?”

Alexander-in usual fashion- colored at Ed’s teasing tone. “Well, it’s true…” he protested weakly, burrowing his nose in his scarf. “It’s a graveyard, and everyone…you know…oh, shut up!”

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” Edward chortled, ignoring the elbow Alex jabbed into his side, nuzzling the top of his younger sibling’s head. “You’re just so cute!”

The brunette turned bright crimson, but said nothing else.

“Hey! Ed, Alex! Over here!”

“Huh? Ah, there you are, Squirt!”

Waving, Edward steered his little brother to the right, towards the excited, beckoning Rosalie. Upon being noticed by her older siblings, Rosie beamed and dropped her hand, whispering something to Amy, who stood beside her, clutching a dozen white roses. Whatever Rosie said must have been disturbingly raunchy, however, as Amy’s mouth proceeded to form a horrified “o;” her pale cheeks turning magenta. Then she smacked her girlfriend playfully on the arm.

“Hi guys,” Rosalie greeted sweetly (much too sweetly) when Ed and Alex neared, trying and failing to muffle a snicker. Edward shot her a bemused sort of glare before shrugging; Alexander merely shook his head. “What took you so long?”

“Al couldn’t decide what sort of flowers to bring,” the blonde drawled, ruffling his little brother’s long hair. Alex bat weakly at the offending hand, but his blush continued to darken, regardless. “So we stood in Pick ‘n’ Save for an hour and a half, debating the pros and cons of everything from carnations to roses.”

“I hope there’s nothing wrong with roses?” Amy asked, indicating her own. Edward scoffed, though clearly amused.

“I dunno, you’d have to ask Al. Apparently they might give the wrong message, or something.”

“Shut up!” Alex huffed, tugging self-consciously on his bouquet’s red ribbon. “I just want to do this right, you know? I feel like I owe Grandpa a lot… Equivalent Exchange, and all.” Hidden in his pocket, the diary bumped his leg.

Agreeing with a beam, Ed looped his arms around Alexander’s neck, resting his chin on his shoulder. In response, the brunette squeaked, unprepared for the pair of warm lips that brushed the back of his neck. “Good point, brother-mine,” the older boy whispered, voice silken and pacifying as he snuggled closer. “D’you think I should go get some honeysuckle?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Alex demanded bitterly, but purred all the same; running a fond hand down Ed’s face as their mouths tenderly met.

Instantaneously, Amy looked away, embarrassed; their sister mock-cheered. Both boys blushed a charming shade of ruby, unable to keep their lips from twitching upwards in wide smiles. Pulling back with an affectionate nip, Edward turned to the girls and grinned like the Cheshire cat. “Shall we get going?”

“Sure,” Rosie easily agreed, jabbing a thumb behind her. “He’s this way. C’mon.”

X

The setting sun was gradually darkening the already hazy sky as the four teens neared the plain gray headstone that marked the resting place of the Elric’s grandfather. Egged on by the cold, dwindling sunlight, Amy and Rosie quickly nodded their respect; leaving their flowers with hushed murmurs neither boy could hear. Then, with encouraging smiles, the younger pair scampered off into the misty shadows-calling their goodbyes.

Edward and Alex stood alone.

“…That was abrupt,” Ed blinked, torn between amusement and bewilderment at the girls’ antics. His arms slipped around the brunette’s waist; he rested his cheek on the top of his head. “Did we do something wrong?”

Alexander grinned faintly, staring down at the small stone grave. “I think they’re just trying to be polite,” he explained, fingers tightening around the Tiger lilies. “This is sort of… personal, I guess.”

Edward chuckled when Alex hesitated, unsure how to explain himself. “Relationships usually are,” the older boy smirked, kissing his sibling’s crown “Though your relationship with the old man is certainly a unique one, thanks to that diary.” He glanced down at the gravestone before swiftly looking away again. Wondering vaguely if seeing his name written on a tombstone would ever stop being creepy, he added in afterthought: “Will I ever get to read it?”

Alexander hummed thoughtfully, considering. “Maaaaybe,” he eventually decided, speaking in a taunting, sing-song voice. His lips curled back in a devious beam. “It all depends. What’ll you trade me for it? Equivalent Exchange, you know.”

“Oh, of course. Let’s see,” Ed pretended to consider, clucking his tongue distractedly. “Well, I suppose I could let you be on the top…”

Eyes widening, Alex hurriedly twisted his head and opened his mouth to agree-but closed it just as hastily when he spotted Edward’s teasing leer.

“…bunk when I come to visit you at home.”

The blonde snickered as Alex pouted, hitting his arm in retaliation. “You suck,” the younger boy griped, brow crumpled in immature anger. “And not in the good way, either! Well, not right now, anyway…I mean-oh, leave me alone!” Alexander’s face flamed as Edward clung to him, acting as his support when he doubled over with laughter. Deciding it’d be wisest to stop while still in possession of a few shreds of dignity, the brunette waited noiselessly for his lover’s snorts to subside and his own blush to vanish.

Once they had, the mood became strangely somber.

“So… you’re really only going to visit?” Alexander questioned after a silent moment, fiddling with the bow on his bouquet. He felt his brother’s arms tighten around his hips, long, pale fingers tracing invisible designs down his sides. “Even after Dad…?”

A tiny smile tugged on the corners of Ed’s lips; he closed his eyes, relaxed. “I can’t move back in, Al. I’m sorry… but there’s no point. I’d just be leaving again at the end of the school year, and really-Dad is already going through enough right now. Small steps… that’s all I want for us to take. It’ll be easier that way. Besides,” he added with a mischievous poke. “I don’t think I’d be able to control myself around you. Just because you haven’t been kicked out yet, doesn’t mean you’re immune to it.”

“If I was, I could always go live with you,” Alex suggested delicately, trying not to look too disappointed when Edward gave his head a reprimanded bop.

“Alex, I’ve already told you,” Ed said stubbornly, though he sounded more drained than annoyed. “You can’t. Not now. Small steps… I want to take things slowly-especially after seeing what you can do when you jump to conclusions.” Alexander flushed a humiliated shade of maroon as his boyfriend continued. “Don’t worry-we’ll see each other. You’re still invited to visit my apartment whenever you like; maybe you can even sleep over once in a while, now that Mom and Dad have decided to ‘un-disown’ me. But if we make things look too suspicious…” Edward held his brother protectively, sighing. “Besides, your senior year is coming up. You’ll have to worry about studying for college exams.”

“Speaking of…” Craning his neck to the left, Alex blinked up at Ed. “What about you? Are you going to college next year…?”

The blonde grinned sheepishly, straightening and scrubbing the back of his neck. “Nope. Broke. I guess I really am gonna have to take the year off and work. But hey… we can be freshman together, yeah?”

In response, Alexander smirked, eyes glittering impishly as he waggled his eyebrows. And Edward, for the third time that day, burst out laughing. Glowing with satisfaction, Alex’s smile lengthened; he’d missed that sound when they were apart.

In the distance, the wind rushed; trees rustled and cars honked. As his sibling’s chortles fell away, the other sounds grew louder-reminders of the world around them. Still, the brothers smiled, linking hands as the world grew darker.

“…we’d better get going,” Edward decided, checking his watch. “Or else we won’t be able to find my motorcycle.”

“How did you talk Todd over of parting with it, anyway?” Alex asked with an inquisitive frown. Ed smirked.

“I can be very convincing when I want to be.”

Smartly, he decided to leave it at that. After all, if you don’t really want to know the answer, you really shouldn’t ask the question. And Alexander had more important things to do than figure out cryptic messages…

With a gesture that said he’d be ready in a minute, Alex took two steps forward and knelt before the little headstone, sweeping the snow from the top as he offered his flowers. ‘Hey, Grandpa,’ he thought affectionately, fingertips slipping over the graceful, carved name. ‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Sorry about that-I guess I never realized how much I have to thank you for. And not just for the stories and the memories, or even the diary… but for being such a strong person; for being someone we can lean on, even a decade after your death. I know you weren’t famous here, like you were in the world you called Amestris… but you were still a hero. To me, to my brother and sister, and to my Dad. And I know that I owe you more than all the Tiger lilies in the world can repay, so I thought I’d make you a deal. In exchange for your wisdom and help, I promise to bring you flowers whenever I can… and to become a man you can be proud to call your grandson. Is that fair?’

With a grin and an affirmative nod, Alexander pushed himself back to his feet, dusted off his pants, and spun to face his brother. Edward arched a questioning eyebrow as he took Alex’s hand, sensing he had something he wished to say. “Yes?”

“It’s just…” The brunette wavered, glancing at the headstone one last time when they turned to walk away. “It’s just that this whole mess has gotten me thinking about Grandpa. And about people in general.” He swallowed noiselessly, trekking behind Edward as they headed towards the parking lot. “I’ve been wondering… about how things turned out. If we’d have acted in another way, would things have turned out the same? How would we have acted, if things had been even slightly different? Why did we do what we did? Why do people do what they do? Why do people do things at all? Why do they live? What’s the point to all this? Is there a point? Was Grandpa only born so that he could go through a bunch of pain and then die? Where’s the Equivalent Exchange in all of that? And-”

“Woah-!” Ed interjected with a wave of his hand, spinning around to face the brunette, lingering beneath a Cyprus tree. “You’re out too deep, Alexander! Come back, come back…!” He snorted, pushing a lock of hair behind his baby brother’s ear; taken aback by the flat glare he received as payment. “What, you really want an answer?” he blinked, sounding amused. “Oh, all right. Hmm, the meaning of life…” Scratching his head pensively, Edward mulled over the issue. Alex watched him do so with a hint of poorly-hidden curiosity. “Well,” the blonde eventually declared, grinning broadly. “I guess I’d have to say that I really have no idea at all. But if I were to venture a guess, I’d probably fall back on the written words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.”

“A Psalm of Life?” Alex guessed, unsurprised when Edward nodded.

“Sure. He seemed to know what he was talking about,” Ed said with a wink, taking his little brother’s hand once more as they returned to walking. “The point of life is to live. I can’t think of any other ‘meaning’ that would apply to people as a whole. I mean, we all need to find for ourselves what we want to live for. As for dying… well, that’s just nature’s way, isn’t it? You could even say that it’s in exchange for the chance to live.”

“But what about Grandpa?” Alexander pressed, slowing to a stop when they reached the parking lot and Todd’s motorbike. The glossy black paint glimmered like onyx in the glow of the nearby streetlamps; Alex waited as his brother took out his keys and removed the kickstand. “What about everything he had to go through? That doesn’t seem fair…”

Ed chuckled, handing his brother a helmet. “No one has ever called life fair. But you can’t just remember all of the bad things or the sad times. He enjoyed a lot of happiness, too. And there is good in everything, if you know where to look for it.”

The brunette’s lips pursed doubtfully. “Even in someone dying…?”

“They’re no longer in pain,” the blonde shrugged. Alex frowned, disgruntled.

“But what about the pain they leave in the hearts of others?”

Edward smiled, seemingly impressed by the inquiry. “It makes them stronger. And don’t forget, Al, that pain doesn’t last forever. Gradually it hurts less and less-until there’s only a scar and the memories. And the memories you have of a lost loved one are usually good ones. That’s what Grandpa had of Alphonse, anyway. And so Alphonse ended up helping him through many, many years. After all, just because someone’s dead doesn’t mean they’re gone… isn’t that diary in your pocket proof of that?”

Alexander blushed, swiftly aware of the comfortable weight in his cargo pants. “I guess… that’s true,” he conceded, crawling onto the motorcycle behind his brother, grateful for an excuse to cling to him. “Even after all that happened to him, he was always moving forward, wasn’t he?”

“That’s one way to put it,” his older brother snickered, revving up their ride. “Or as he always used to say: ‘I had a pair of good, strong legs so I got up and used them.’” Unable to keep from grinning, Alex rolled his eyes at Ed’s mocking tone; choking on a squeak as they shot off into the night, heading back home.

Benjamin would be mad if they were late for dinner.

XXX

All right, I just wanted to talk about Ed’s birthday for a minute.

I honestly have no idea when it is. I mean, the first time we’re “introduced” to Ed’s birthday in the show, it’s the beginning of winter and there’s a freakin’ blizzard. The second time, it seems to be late spring/early summer. In the kids OVA, it’s clearly late summer/early autumn. So unless Ed has some magically-changing birthday… *snorts* In any case, I guestimated; it can be really hot in September, but it can also snow later on in the month. So, you know… whatever you want to believe. XD

Anyway, yea! I hope you enjoyed the last chapter… now what’re you waiting for? Go read the epilogue! X3