In the Morning

For Dearheart, who introduced me to Vienna Teng

A deafening crash woke Trisha from a blissful dream – a dream in which the day was warm and sunny, and she danced on the cool grass for a man with laughter in his voice and sadness in his eyes. The dream oozed away, as if washed away by the rain she could now hear pounding against the roof and the window on the west side. Thunder grumbled overhead, and she wondered how she could have slept through this. It sounded more like hail than rain. But there was no way she could get to sleep now, with all that racket.

Trisha rolled over to get out of bed and grope for her bathrobe, when another blinding flash of lightning briefly illuminated a small figure at the foot of the bed. "Alphonse?" She sat up, stifling a yawn. "What do you need, honey?"

Thunder crashed again, rattling the windows and shaking the walls, and with a startled squeak Alphonse was at her side, clutching her sleeve. Understanding at once, Trisha wrapped reassuring arms around him and kissed his forehead. "Want to sleep with Mommy tonight?"

Alphonse nodded frantically, so Trisha moved over to allow him to scramble up next to her. Just as he pulled his pudgy legs over the side of the tall mattress, lightning flashed three times, quickly followed by a deafening roll of thunder. The frightened boy darted under the covers, cowering against his mother's side. Trisha smiled and pulled him close, remembering how Risenpool's thunderstorms used to frighten her as well.

But there was one sure-fire way to calm down her sons in a storm, so Trisha took a deep breath and began to sing, loud enough to cover the pounding of the rain.

Little child
Be not afraid
Though rain pounds harshly 'gainst the glass
Like an unwanted stranger
There is no danger
I am here tonight

Another flash, and there was Edward on the other side, fists clenched around the coverlet. "Are you scared too, sweetie?" Trisha asked gently, pulling down the covers for him.

Edward shook his head violently, but still jumped when the thunder rumbled, a little farther off. "I-I just wanted t'make sure Al wasn' scared," he mumbled.

Trisha was grateful for the darkness that hid her amusement. "Thank you for being so thoughtful, Edward. But I think you'd better come up here and make sure Mommy's not scared."

He was cuddling against her side before she had even finished her sentence, and hid his face under the covers as lightning flashed again. Trisha pulled the warm covers up around her sons on either side and continued her soothing song.

Little child
Be not afraid
Though thunder explodes
And lightning flash
Illuminate your tear-stained face
I am here tonight

Gradually, as the storm began to blow on past the house and Trisha's soothing voice continued, the boys relaxed against her – Alphonse wrapping his chubby arms around her waist, Edward curling into a warm ball at her side like a cat. Soon enough, she could feel their steady breathing that meant they had fallen asleep at last.

And someday you'll know
That nature is so
The same rain that draws you near me
Falls on rivers and land
And forests and sand
Makes the beautiful world that you'll see
In the morning

Trisha smiled and settled back against the pillows, holding her treasures close. The man of her dreams may have come and gone, and for all she knew she might never see him again, promise or no promise...but for now...for this moment, with the rain pounding overhead and two lumps of heat on either side...she could forget. Hohenheim had left behind two talismans that would drive away every terror of the night.

It was enough. She drifted off to sleep with a smile on her lips.

----------

Thunderstorms always washed through Risenpool around this time of year. They had come to expect it, and had grown out of their fear of thunder. They were too old to go running for their mother, too old for lullabies, too old to do anything but roll over and go back to sleep. Edward had known this for years already, and had teased Alphonse enough to get the message across to him as well. They couldn't be sissies like Winry, who cried at the first clap of thunder.

But when the expected thunderstorm rolled in and Edward woke to the sound of rain and his little brother's sobs, he said nothing. He didn't snicker at Alphonse, didn't say that he was eight years old and was too old for this. All he did was roll out of his bed and shuffle over to Alphonse's.

Alphonse looked up, and for a moment his sobs died away. But when he saw who was standing over him, silhouetted against the lightning, he rolled away to face the wall and kept on crying. Edward wordlessly slid under the blankets and mutely touched his brother's heaving side. He didn't know how to give comfort, not when he could feel the same empty cavity yawning in his own chest.

They no longer had a mother to run to with their fears, with their problems and worries and joys and successes and scrapes and bruises. No one to kiss it better, no one to sing a song that somehow made everything seem so far away. So Edward started to sing instead.

Little child
Be not afraid
Though stormclouds mask your beloved moon
And its candlelight beams
Still, keep pleasant dreams
I am here tonight

Edward didn't know how to sing. It wasn't something he did very often, and his quavering little voice sounded nothing like the beautiful, soothing tones of their mother. When she sang, it was so easy to believe that she had everything under control, that nothing could hurt them. Even though it had. Even though nothing was right anymore.

Edward didn't share her gift, but Alphonse still sniffled himself to silence and lay on his back, gazing up as his brother sang. At any other time, Edward would have been embarrassed to be singing in front of anyone else. But in this fragile moment, they both knew why he sang. It was to keep that voice alive.

Little child
Be not afraid
Though wind makes creatures of our trees
And their branches to hands
They're not real, understand
And I am here tonight

The tune was soothing and the words calming, but they both knew, somewhere deep inside, that it was deceptive. Their mother had promised with this song that she would always be there to protect them and comfort them when the world outside pounded to get in. And yet, despite all those lullabies, she left them anyway. They were alone now, orphans in a cold, cruel world. She wasn't there anymore, and she never would be.

Edward's voice faltered and faded away, and when he stopped, the wind seemed to howl louder than ever, beating threatening fists against the walls of the house and scratching to get in. Cowering, Edward turned away from his brother and lay down, tears pooling in his eyes. He could still feel their mother's fingers loosening their grasp as she left them once and for all. He was alone with the wind and the rain.

And someday you'll know
That nature is so
The same rain that draws you near me
Falls on rivers and land
And forests and sand
Makes the beautiful world that you'll see
In the morning

Edward swallowed painfully and closed his eyes as Alphonse continued the song for him in a wavering, teary voice. A small hand rubbed his back in little circles, like a miniature imitation of the way their mother used to rub their backs with an almost hypnotic rhythm that always put them to sleep. Alphonse's hand was small and clumsy, and he kept on having to pause in his singing to sniffle a little, so it didn't achieve quite the same effect.

But it was enough. As Alphonse's voice broke as well, Edward rolled over to face him, and the brothers fell asleep in each other's arms.

----------

It was so stupid. Alphonse had no idea how it had happened, and he supposed that was why he couldn't move fast enough to stop it. Maybe it was because Edward was tired, having already narrowly escaped the Homunculi's latest plot. Maybe it was because it was raining, and even though his automail was intact and they were inside, his ports ached and slowed down his movements just slightly. Or maybe his daredevil luck had finally run out.

Whatever was the case, Edward fell in a graceful arc, crashing to the concrete floor before Alphonse could reach him, screaming his name. Oh, he had knocked out their attacker, of course – exhausted or not, Edward was a perfectionist, and he made sure the man with the deadly sword would hurt no one again before succumbing to his wounds. And he might have lived to tell the tale, as he had so many times before, but the nameless attacker had managed to get one final blow in before Edward's fist collided with his skull and sent him to dreamland.

When Alphonse finally reached his brother's side, red had spread all across his chest, as if the vibrant dye of his coat was seeping into the rest of his clothes. The sword quivered in the air, pushed into Edward's stomach almost up to the hilt. Alphonse tried not to look at the bloody steel poking out the other side, or to remember the weird coughing sound Edward had made when it went in.

He was afraid to touch his brother, afraid that movement would hurt him even further. "Don't worry!" he said, starting to rise as soon as he saw that Edward was still breathing. "I'll go get help!"

But Edward's fingers curled around the wisp of hair trailing from Alphonse's helmet, and even though the grip was weak, Alphonse found he couldn't move. "There's...no one around...for miles," Edward whispered laboriously, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"Then I'll carry you! I'll...I'll d-do something!"

Edward's golden eyes were clear and unusually bright. "'S too late," he mumbled, now gripping Alphonse's gauntlet. "'M not...gonna make it."

"Don't say that." But his resolve was weakening. He could see the blood soaking Edward's broken body, and he remembered how fast that man had moved. Edward was fast, but he couldn't dodge everything. It hadn't seemed so bad while Edward was still moving, but now that he lay still Alphonse had to acknowledge that he was looking at a broken body. Blood was spreading in a slick pool across the concrete, and Edward's breathing was growing more labored by the minute.

"No..." With infinite care, Alphonse slowly gathered his brother into his arms and held him close. He imagined he could feel the weight in his huge arms, or the blood oozing out of each gash, but in reality all he felt was a sick, hollow space opening within him. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't.

But he remembered what it had felt like when his mother had died right in front of him, and it was exactly like this.

Edward slowly blinked several times, his eyes focusing once more on Alphonse's face. "Al..." he whispered. "Promise...don't bring me back."

"You know I won't."

Why did that knowledge hurt more than anything?

"Al...sing me that...that song. That Mom used t' sing. Please..."

For you know
Once even I was a
Little child
And I was afraid
But a gentle someone always came
To dry all my tears
Trade sweet sleep for fears
And to give a kiss goodnight

Well, now I am grown
And these years have shown
That rain's a part of how life goes
But it's dark and it's late
So I'll hold you and wait
Till your frightened eyes do close

He wanted to cry, but with his changeless body he just kept singing. His voice didn't break or wobble, and he didn't even have to pause to draw breath. It reverberated horribly around the empty armor, but Alphonse barely even noticed. He could only gaze into his brother's eyes, which grew more and more hazy as time went on.

And even though his heart was breaking into a thousand pieces, falling and shattering on the bloody concrete, it felt right. It felt right that he was holding his brother at the end of his life, singing him the lullaby that had always assured them they were loved and protected. Because even though Edward was dying, even though he would never see Alphonse in the flesh, even though Alphonse had no idea what he was going to do with himself...they were still safe. In each other.

Alphonse realized that every time their mother had held them, rocked them in her arms, and sung this song, she had been telling them with every line that she loved them. That was why they could sleep in peace when she sang. Not because she would keep the rain out, but because she would dry the rain along with the tears.

So had Edward done for him.

So would he do for his brother.

And I hope that you'll know
That nature is so
The same rain that draws you near me
Falls on rivers and land
And forests and sand
Makes the beautiful world that you'll see
In the morning

Edward smiled a soft, blissful smile – one he hadn't worn since childhood, before they had lost everything, before their mother had died, before their father had even left. Alphonse hadn't thought he'd remembered anything from that time, but he recognized this smile.

As his breathing steadily slowed, Edward wordlessly pressed Alphonse's hand against his own chest, as if he would be able to feel his heartbeat wane. Alphonse kept singing, his voice growing softer and softer, and after a moment he understood what his brother was trying to say: This will never stop.

And slowly, Edward's eyes closed, as though he were drifting off to blissful slumber.

Everything's fine in the morning
The rain'll be gone in the morning
But I'll still be here in the morning

Alphonse bowed his head over his brother as the last notes of the song echoed through the room. The body was already growing stiff in his arms, he could tell. Yet even as the knowledge of his brother's death crashed over him, a tiny light shone in the dark abyss: He still loved Edward. And that wasn't much comfort.

But it was enough.