The hospital room is quiet in its early hours. Ed sits on Al’s bed curling a small weight with his right arm - it’s little more than a kilogram. The nurses wouldn’t provide him a heavier weight for fear he’d strain the atrophied muscles in that arm. What a pain, he’d wanted an at least halfway decent workout.

Al’s in far worse condition than him anyway, so he’s not really sure why the nurses are so concerned about him. Ed tucks the blanket tighter around Al when he shivers in his sleep. It’s not even that cold; the morning sun streams in through the window and warms him from behind.

Dawn’s colours remind him far too easily of lying in the grass outside their childhood home. Back when it was blissful and happy. Him and Al would do their best to stay up all night, desperate to know what was so special about it. He’d stayed up until dawn once or twice and seen the sunrise. It was forever burned into his memory, that first sunrise he saw. Al had always fallen asleep on his shoulder and never seen it. It was Ed’s fault that Al had now seen four years of sunrises - one thousand four hundred and sixty of them. Had it been longer? Had he seen more than that? If he’d lost track of time, how many had he really forced Alphonse to see? Of course, now that he had his body back, Al wouldn’t have to watch any more sunrises that he didn’t want to.

It had been quite a few sunsets since the Promised Day, Al hadn’t been much lively since getting his body back. He’d spent most of the time sleeping, to little surprise. Right now though, his eyes are just fluttering open as he starts to stir. Ed moves off the bed and reaches for the glass on the side table. He hands it to Al with a straw who drinks from it greedily.

“Morning Al.” Ed whispers, it feels that speaking would destroy the peace of morning. He doesn’t want to do that, it’s been far too long since he was surrounded by such complete peace - he barely recognises the feeling.

“Morning brother,” Al’s voice is stronger than before but it still feels weak and strained, his vocal cords are no longer accustomed to frequent use. “What time is it?” he asks, glancing out the window.

Ed reaches into his pocket to pull out his watch from habit, finding it’s not there he glances at the clock, “7:18, you just missed the sunrise. It was beautiful.” He’d left his state alchemist’s watch in his own hospital room, no longer feeling the need to carry its weight with him everywhere he went. It’s not like he needed to remember the third of October year eleven anymore anyway, didn’t need to carry its burden anymore. There’s no point in looking to the past now, Ed thinks.

It makes much more sense to set yourself facing forward. Even if he doesn’t know what he’s going to do now, he certainly can’t be a State Alchemist now that he can’t perform alchemy. But then… no one really knows what to do anymore. Sure, they still have their goals but everything had changed in the course of a single day. Ed looks back at Al. Some of those changes are a good thing.

“Oh,” says Al, “I used to watch the sunrise every day. It feels strange missing it. I guess I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to see it.”

Ed smiles to himself, so there had been things that Al enjoyed in that body - somehow. “I’ll make sure I wake you up early then.” Ed promises him.

Al nods, “I’d like that, brother.” His gaze lingers on the view outside the window. He thinks Ed doesn’t notice, but he studies Al for a moment then suddenly shoots out the room. The door slowly squeaks shut behind him. Startled, Al watches the door until he returns.

Ed comes back through with a bundle of clothes in his arms. Amazingly, they don’t even seem to be the gaudy, tasteless kind that Ed would normally wear. He lays out each item of clothing on the bed for Al to see and choose from. Al runs his hand over a dark green cotton jumper, it’s far softer than the standard issue hospital gown he’s currently wearing. He picks the jumper, a pair of soft pants, some underwear and a button up shirt to put on. Along with the pair of cat-themed slippers Ed bought him as soon as he’d been alone in his room and had managed to sneak out. He’d lied and told Al that he hadn't left through the window.

Al weakly holds his arms above his head and allows Ed to help him into the clothes. His hands shake and fumble so much that he can't even do up the buttons on his own. It’s humiliating and embarrassing that he can’t do it himself, had it been a nurse trying to help him like that, Al thinks that he couldn’t have stood it. But it’s only Ed, and Ed used to help him get dressed when they were younger so maybe it’s not so bad. He doesn’t have to put on a fake smile to hide his emotions with Ed. Doesn’t have to worry about letting him know that all of this upsets him.

Once he’s dressed, Ed leaves Al alone on the bed once again. He’s straight back out the door to go do whatever is next on his list of self-assigned missions. Ed’s being cryptic again, not saying a word to Al but he doesn’t mind too much. For him, it’s nice just to be wearing proper clothes again. He can’t help but wonder if someone might be coming to visit him in central hospital. He can’t decide who he’d rather see, Winry, Granny or Mustang and the rest of the office crew? He would have liked to see May, Ling and Lanfan again too, but by now they’d be at least halfway back to Xing.

Ed re-enters with a wheelchair, pushing it carefully through the door. He parks it beside the bed and lifts Al’s covers, folding and setting them aside from him. Ed offers a hand to Al so that he can help him into the wheelchair.

Al shakes his head, “No brother, I can do this on my own. Getting into my wheelchair, I mean.” He braces himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Slowly, cautiously, doing his best. He feebly pushes up, barely supporting his own weight, eventually he struggles into the wheelchair. Al sits in it, breathing heavily and utterly exhausted after even a task as simple as that. But he did it, and he did it on his own and it makes him feel proud.

Ed looks at him with worry; Al faces him with a tired smile and a weak thumbs up. He'll be fine in a few moments, besides, he wants to know just why this was necessary. “Brother, are you going to tell me why I’m in this wheelchair right now?”

Ed just grins at him knowingly, leaving Alphonse answerless. He takes the handles of the wheelchair and rushes down the corridor with him. The ride is bumpy and constantly jolting Al, it makes a loud noise as the wheels roll across the floor. It reminds Al of a fairground ride he went on once. He doesn’t even remember what it was called, but he remembers that it was fun.

With a gust of fresh air blowing through the doors, Al finds himself in the hospital garden. The flowers look just as pretty as he always remembered; the smell, however, is completely unfamiliar. Ed plucks a flower from the ground and holds it out to Alphonse, he takes it, twirling it between his fingers and sniffs at it. His nose wrinkles. Al sneezes.

“Bless you.” Ed says, handing him a tissue. He seems to be ready for everything today, a total contrast to his usual self. He sits down in front of Al’s wheelchair, the grass is slightly wet. Ed doesn’t really care though, he’s more than content to simply bask in the sunlight and enjoy the bird song - just like the country hick he truly is at heart, despite all his time in Central City. He’s looking forward to going back to Risembool. There he’d see the same birds everywhere as he finds in this seeming last reserve of Central.

Alphonse is sat perfectly still in his chair, feeble arm outstretched and a small robin perched on his finger. He raises his other hand to its head, gently stroking its soft feathers. It’s therapeutic despite the wind blowing his long, uncared-for hair into his face. Therapeutic until his weak muscles fail him and his hand slips suddenly. The small robin flies chirping away. Alphonse tries not to feel crestfallen, not to let the expression make its way onto his face. He half tries to hide behind his hair, it hangs there limply and covers up his eyes. The breeze picks up, blowing it behind him as the robin glides away on the gusts of air.

Ed studies him quietly; hands in his pocket, he feels the few crumpled up pieces of paper and coins that sit inside it. He wishes he could get that robin to come back; if Alphonse was that happy just to have it perched on his finger, he wouldn’t mind a bird too terribly… It wasn’t like they’d be travelling much anymore anyway. Where did they have to go but home? Grasped between his fingers though, there isn’t even enough for a train ticket to take them there. Nor is there enough for a bird. Maybe three hundred and fifty cenz maximum…

Stretching, Ed stands up, taking the handles of the chair. He slowly pushes Alphonse out of the garden and onto the usually bustling streets of Central. There’s something peaceful about this too; although it’s nowhere near the same. There are people surrounding them, but being early in the day the thick throng is yet to form. It feels like forever since he’s had a casual stroll around here, it feels almost disorienting - not having to run for his life and actually being able to enjoy the scenery. He doesn’t even have a particular destination in mind; just where three hundred and fifty cenz can take him. He stops for a moment in front of a street vendor selling apples, they look delicious and he can see Alphonse practically drooling. The change jingles in his pocket as he rummages around for a hundred cenz coin rather than pennies. He exchanges it for a sack of apples. He takes one out and hands it to Al, then he ties the sack back up and ties it to the handle too.

Watching Alphonse with the apples, he finds himself remembering Al’s vow to eat Winry’s apple pie and Gracia’s quiche when he got his body back. Though Winry isn’t in Central to bake them a pie, the Hughes house isn’t far away. He thinks that taking Al there would probably do him some good, just maybe Gracia and Elicia wouldn’t mind seeing them either… Lost in his thoughts, Ed’s lost in the streets too. His feet wander as much as his mind does, it seems.

“Brother,” Alphonse breaks the silence that had enveloped them since the hospital room, “do you know where we are?”

Ed hums a moment, “Yeah sort of, I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was walking, sorry.” There isn’t really much to tell them where they are, Central has a thing for nondescript housing. It all looks the same, this area is annoyingly devoid of landmarks to gain his bearings from. He spots the street name on one of the buildings; the map of Central etched into his brain suddenly becomes useful and Ed remembers how to get to his destination. Before they leave though, there’s a pay phone on this street and still two hundred and fifty cenz in his pocket.

“I’ll be back in a minute Al,” Pointing at the phone booth, he pulls the wheelchair further into the pavement and puts on the brakes.

Al follows his finger, “Alright, who are you going to call?”

“Gracia Hughes!” Ed yells over his shoulder. He shuts the door of the booth behind him. Slotting in coins, he dials the number and listens to the line ring, waiting for someone to pick up.

“Hello?” Gracia’s soft voice crackles down the line.

“Hi Mrs Hughes. I was wondering… would you make Al a quiche?” Ed tries not to get his hopes up, after everything that was his fault maybe she wouldn't want to see these two wandering brothers, despite how much her late husband loved them and despite her words. But her answer is the opposite of what he expects, it leaves him feeling just a tiny bit relieved.

Gracia gasps quietly, happily, “Of course Edward. Does that mean you got your bodies back?”

Ed silently nods, forgetting that a phone is used to hear a voice, not to see a picture. She questions if he’s still there and Ed suddenly finds his voice, “Yeah, I’m here. We got our bodies back, it makes me really happy.” He sheepishly scratches at the back of his head, hair neatly tied in the golden plait that used to be his signature, (he’s missing the gloves and the red coat and the automail arm, the plait is an anchor for him, makes him realise he isn’t dreaming.) “Sorry I went all quiet on you there, I forgot you couldn’t see me so I nodded instead.”

Gracia laughs, “Dinner will be on the table when you boys get here.”

Before the line beeps dead he hears her say “Elicia sweetheart, come help me make a quiche for Ed and Al!”

He also hears Elicia’s delighted squeal, “Big brothers are coming?!”

Then the phone clicks and the voices cut off and he places the receiver back down. Ed’s left smiling to himself, he exits the booth and pushes the door shut. Just a few feet in front of him, the robin is there again - perched on Alphonse's shoulder this time around. The image leaves him thoughtful, pensive. He’s curious about what it must feel like, the pressure of its claws in his skin after not being able to feel pain. Or the softness of its feathers after feeling nothing at all.

His right arm understands it, though it isn’t at all the same. No, he can’t imagine it. Perhaps he shouldn’t ask either. He keeps that thought to himself when he resumes pushing Alphonse's wheelchair and chatters with him. Al is excited about the quiche, happy for food better than what a hospital canteen can provide. Ed agrees, he’s suffered more than enough hospital food in his life to understand at least that sentiment.

What he maybe doesn't understand is the robin still following them, it seems determined to keep Alphonse company the entire way to the Hughes house. It flies away when they knock on the door. Scared off by the loud thumps of Ed’s knuckles rapping against dark, solid wood. The handle turns in response, and behind the creaking door is an enthusiastic Elicia. Alphonse grins at the butter in her pigtails and the flour all over her face and the apron she wears also covered in flour.

Her mouth makes the shape of an ‘O’ when she looks at the two of them, they’re different than when she last saw them. She stares at the brothers, “Big brother!” she exclaims, pointing at Ed, “You got taller!” Elicia stands on her tiptoes, “but so did I!”

Ed laughs, ruffling her hair. Retracting his hand, he rubs the butter now covering it on his trousers. He hopes that they won’t stain, there are only so many pairs of pants in his suitcase. “Can we come in?” he asks.

Elicia nods vehemently and opens the door wider for them to enter. Her attention snaps from Ed to Alphonse, “Hey Alphonse, what happened to your armour? Why aren’t you wearing it? And why are you in a weird moving chair? Can you stand up?”

Against the bombarding questions, Alphonse looks akin to a deer caught in the headlights. It takes him a minute to gather his thoughts, “I decided I didn't like the armour anymore so I took it off and I’m not wearing it. But without it, for now my muscles are all like jelly so I have to sit in this chair to get around. It’s alright though, “ Al jabs his thumb in Ed’s direction, “I’ve got him to help me.”

Fondness passes over both their faces for the fleeting moment before Elicia jumps onto Ed’s back. The unexpected extra weight sends him tumbling backwards. His arms jet out behind him, a barrier between him and the floor that stops a young child from being squashed. His bum meets the ground with a sore bang. Instead of being scared or deterred, Elicia clambers onto his shoulders and tightly clasps her hands around his forehead.

Ed breathes out a longsuffering sigh, he can’t push the chair and carry her at the same time. His dilemma is solved with the appearance of a worn out Gracia. She doesn't even bother asking what the commotion is, just carefully takes Elicia from his shoulders and gently chides her.

“Elicia, you know you have to ask before you get piggybacks from someone.”

Elicia lowers her head and trails into the kitchen, dragging her feet the short distance. The three of them follow her to the table, all four of them settle in their seats. Gracia cuts the quiche, placing a piece on each plate.

“Thanks for the food!” is exclaimed by three voices in unison.

Usually, Al is one for manners who would talk rather than dig straight in, but the smell of fresh pastry is far too tempting. He stuffs his mouth with a forkful as soon as the fork is handed to him.

“So Edward, why isn’t Winry here with you today?” Gracia teases him lightly.

Ed swallows down the mouthful of food and tries not to splutter, why is it that that is what she immediately jumps to? Dammit, he thinks, she’s just the same as her husband! “She’s back in Risembool, last time I saw her was the sheep festival.”

Al gapes at him, “You went to the sheep festival…” his eyes narrow, “whilst I was hiding on a train as a fugitive?”

The corners of Gracia’s lips curve and Ed turns his head away from Alphonse, mumbling, “Uh, no? I was kinda.. Sorta, hiding in Pinako’s basement most of the time… I was on lookout duty in her room when she came back and uhh…” he trails off and turns bright red.

Gracia bursts out laughing and Ed’s eyes plead with Al to change the subject. Al just giggles along with her, holding a hand to his mouth to muffle the sound. Giving up, Ed wolfs down the rest of his food and locks onto Elicia, “Hey Elicia, do you wanna play or something? I bet you’re bored!”

Her eyes light up and she springs out of her seat. The half-eaten slice of quiche is abandoned in favour of the dolls and costumes Elicia pulls out of her toy chest. Part of Ed wants to run away in terror from the pink tutu and princess hat that she approaches him with. Resisting the urge to do just that, he lets her place the hat on his head and puts on the tutu. When he’s securely in the awful thing, Ed sits cross-legged on the floor. She tugs his hair out of its plait and fiddles with the locks cascading down Ed’s back. Elicia whirls around, placing herself in front of him.

She clasps her hands together thinking, she pouts as she assesses Ed’s already ridiculous appearance. “Ah!” She exclaims, “I know what you need to be the perfect princess: face paint!”

Ed doesn't even get the chance to convince her not to torture him further - she’s already dashed off in search of it. He half wishes he’d suffered through the rest of that conversation. Suggesting playtime to a young girl in possession of dress-up supplies is hopefully his only mistake for the day. He grimaces when a paintbrush covered in bright yellow acrylics touches his face. Gosh, she’s not even using proper face paint… He wonders if the bright yellow flower on his face will ever come off.

Someone knocks on the door and Ed glares at it, wishing that he could melt whoever stands behind it before they can witness his embarrassment. But humans like him don’t have superpowers, although sometimes it might have seemed like it. No, the only people possessing superpowers are safely in movies and comic books that can't help him when Gracia opens the door a crack.

“Have you got any idea where the Elric brothers might be? We got a call from the hospital saying they were missing.” Roy Mustang is known for composure, but this time around everyone in the apartment can hear just how frantic he is. Riza’s quiet reassurance doesn’t work at all, his voice is almost pleading, “We’ve searched all over. No one’s been able to find them! I hope to hell they’re okay…”

Ed hears Roy’s voice and desperately prays that he’ll go away. Praying has never really worked for him though, he knows God just doesn’t like to listen to him because Roy steps inside followed by Riza. Horror is etched on his face, there’s nowhere that Ed can escape to. Then he breathes out a sigh of relief, he didn’t think he’d ever be grateful to Truth for taking the Colonel's eyesight but somehow he is. Grateful only for the moment that he thinks he’s saved, knowing that the lieutenant, at least, will not use this to haunt him.

Roy gawks at him, “Fullmetal?” is all he manages to get out before he starts wheezing at the sight in front of him. “Are you okay?”

Edward shoots daggers in his direction. He’d forgotten that Knox and Marcoh had used a philosopher’s stone to return said stolen eyesight. If he was going to suffer he’d at least do it with his pride intact. Whatever pride one can have after being caught in a tutu and princess hat by their superior officer… He grins terrifyingly at Elicia, almost ordering her, “Keep painting.” She complies happily, dipping her paintbrush in another equally as disgusting bright colour.

Roy quails slightly at the look levelled in his direction, never before has the pipsqueak managed to intimidate him. Yet sitting playing with a young girl, dressed up as a princess and covered in face paint, Ed is suddenly the scariest person he knows. Gracia breaks up the staring match between the two, ushering Roy and Riza to sit.

“They ate all of lunch, but you’re welcome to stay for a while.” Gracia tells them. Tiredness and happiness for company both present in her voice as she wearily takes a seat on the three-seater sofa.

“Mommy? Can we watch a film?” Elicia grabs an armful of videotapes from the cabinet as she asks.

“Of course honey, got any particular one in mind?”

At the table, Elicia lays a spread of children’s films in front of Al. Each one she enjoys, but she gives Al the choice. Al picks up one about a wizard and pats his knee, Elicia climbs up onto it, sitting contentedly on his lap, “You have great taste in films Elicia, this was my favourite one as a kid!”

Ed leaps up, practically vaulting to the two of them, “No way! You have Howl’s Moving Castle? I loved that film!”

Roy stands from where he sits beside Riza, striding over to them and taking the videotape from Al’s hand. He crouches in front of the television, fiddling with wires until the input is connected to the player. In the time it takes him to mess on and insert the film, Riza and Ed help Alphonse onto the sofa, setting him down next to Gracia. Elicia sprawls across both their laps, her head resting on the arm of the sofa in a half-sitting position and her feet across Al’s and Gracia’s thighs.

Ed makes himself comfortable next to his brother, enchanted as always by the first scene of the film. He thinks it captures the vibrancy of the world around them all too well, it’s what he loves about it. For all that the film captures his attention, he can't help but notice the arm Roy tries to discreetly throw around Riza’s shoulders. It’s not discreet in the slightest, but Ed turns his head away to let him continue in his delusions. It’s not like Riza laying her head on his chest after a moment is a delusion, anyway.

Snoring sounds in his ear before the movie is even twenty minutes in, when he sees the source he can't help but smile. Next to him, Gracia, Al and Elicia are all asleep. Al’s head leans against Gracia's shoulder and she cuddles both her child and the child that she considers hers in her sleep. Ed exchanges a grin with Roy and Riza.

Roy thinks that the sentimental fool must have rubbed off on him because whilst Ed goes to find a blanket to keep the three warm, Roy finds himself searching for Maes’ old camera. He locates it atop a bookcase. By the time it’s turned on, Ed and Riza are posed behind the sofa, making faces at the sleeping figures. Roy finds the remote and pauses the film then sets the camera to a twenty second timer and carefully places it on the television. Positioning himself beside Edward, Roy sandwiches the kid between him and Riza for the photo.

The camera flashes and snaps, it takes a lot of effort not to blink at the bright light, but when the polaroid prints off the picture it comes out well. Once the ink dries, Ed takes the photo and puts it in his pocket. He thinks that he can show it to Al later and then Winry when he sees her. But they don't stop at one photo because Roy insists that they take more than one so that there’ll be a picture for everyone.

Roy's favourite, of course, is the one where him and Riza ruffle Ed’s hair and he glares up at him angrily in the picture. He tucks it away and they resume watching the film. Over its noise they can't hear the robin tapping at the window, trying to alert them to someone's presence.

Maes Hughes pats the robin gently, “It’s okay little bird, you tried. It’s not like they’ll ever be able to know I’m here.” He sits on the floor in front of his wife and watches the film with them. Even if they can't sense his company or what his little robin friend tries to tell them, he still feels content because almost all his family is here. And they’re all happier than he ever could have hoped for.

Just like always, he thinks, he’ll linger a little longer and continue to watch over the people who held him close; the people that he holds close. He hopes this snapshot lasts forever, that the freeze frame never plays.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading my one shot, I really hope you enjoyed it!