They go back eight years later.

It isn't that they've been far from Rizenbul; they visit regularly between missions now, identical uniforms ruffled and dusty from the walk up the road. Transportation out to Rizenbul is still spotty; it's just easier to walk from the last station.

But when they go to Rizenbul, they go to a home they have found, a woman with a wrench and a mean right hook, a woman with an ancient dog that limps tiredly beside her when it moves at all. The dog will die soon, but it's still determined to play the guard to his lady and his gentlemen, and they stroke his grizzled back softly. He has been a good guard.

And home is different.

There is a hill some distance away which is overgrown, a tree marking a boundary of nothing at all. They have avoided going here since they visited in pieces, and even that had been difficult.

Edward Elric, already showing more white hair than blond at age 24, takes a seat on the hill. The grass is wet from rain earlier that morning, and it soaks into the coattails of his uniform, but he doesn't care. He's been wetter, he's sat in worse conditions, his uniform has suffered more. He can wash it tonight, with Winry glaring at him and insisting that HE do it, she has more important things to do. He can hang it outside, he thinks sleepily, and lies back in the grass, watching the sky. Clouds are thick, making the night darker. It may rain again, and then he'll have to wear normal clothes tomorrow.

His brother takes a seat beside him, and Alphonse Elric doesn't sprawl but sits crosslegged. His honey hair is spotless, his skin smooth; he hasn't had it long enough to show marks. They don't need to talk; this is a skill they've learned over long years. Al's hand squeezes on Ed's shoulder, briefly, and Ed tosses him a grin.

"Maybe," Al murmurs, "that sweater Winry bought you."

"It looks better on you."

"No," Al says, and smiles.

They stay there, and it's comfortable, more comfortable than they could have expected, the memories old and padded.

"Look," Al says, and points.

There is a patch of bare sky, a break in the clouds, and the night sky beyond it is an inky black, stars shining. It's like looking into infinity, a place they've seen twice before. It's like looking into a million eyes.

"There she is," Al murmurs.

Ed squints.

They stay there until the clouds cover the gap. Ed is all sudden movement then, like he always is: stillness and movement, his life. He's on his feet before Al can even see his muscles tense, holding his hand down.

Al takes it, lets Ed pull him up.

"Well, that's that," Ed says. He turns and starts to trek down.

Al searches the sky for another gap, but they're gone, and that's that. He smiles.

"Goodnight, mother," he murmurs, and follows his brother home.