By the time he's eighteen, Ed's pretty sure he's spent at least a third of his life on trains or in train stations waiting for trains.

It was odd, he thought. For the first nine years of his life, they'd spent their entire time within the bounds of one country town; for the last nine, he'd been all over the world, first for his own reasons, then for the military's. He felt like he preferred movement, in a way, like the first half of his life had been still just to give him the momentum for now. He'd learned to hate waiting between missions with nothing to do, and would drown himself in research during that time, keeping his mind moving. Much better to have been given the mission; he'd learned to love train stations, because they meant movement.

Al had come with him this entire time, and he felt vaguely guilty about never having been able to puzzle out why. Al could have lived his entire life happily at home. Al thrived on having a central stability, a home he could count on. Al wasn't even a dog of the military.

"What are you thinking, Brother?" Al's tinny voice was pitched deliberately softly, and Ed turned from his side to his back on the bench, his head pillowed on his shirt piled on Al's leg.

"I'm just thinking about the job," he said, because the words wouldn't make sense in his mouth.

Al looked down at him, and though his expression couldn't change, Ed felt his brother smile, felt it in the softness of the gauntlet on his forehead.

"Sleep, Brother," Al said. "The train comes early."

Ed smiled faintly and closed his eyes.

It was easier to travel, he thought, when home came with him.