Ed never mentioned it, but his biggest fear had not been that the transmutation would fail and he would lose his brother forever. No, his biggest fear was having to play father himself. He had a few memories of his own father from when he was small, but then the man had left, and taken Ed’s conception of fatherhood with him. After that, all his role models were women: his mother, Winry’s grandmother, sensei Izumi.
“Hell”, he thought, “I’d probably make a better mother than a father.”
Al was sitting on the floor, looking out at the world through a two-year-old’s eyes. He stacked the blocks Ed had made for him, then knocked them over and stacked them again.
“More!” he yelled, looking up at Ed expectantly.
Ed smiled. “What’s the magic word, Al?”
Instead of answering, Al clapped his hands together. Ed was startled.
“More!” he yelled again, with another clap.
“What are you trying to do?” Ed asked quietly.
“Make more!” Clap, clap.
“You… you can’t do it like that, Al.”
“Daddy can.” Al pouted, as if he knew something was being kept from him.
“You’ll learn when you’re older. Promise.” And then Ed went to the door and clapped his hands together, and more of the big blocks appeared out of the fine, sandy soil. Al watched, fascinated, as he always did when Ed did such things. Ed handed the blocks to the small boy with a smile, but couldn’t help wondering just what memories were nested behind his eyes.
