The west wing of the infirmary smells heavily of disinfectant as he turns down it. It's such a dreary place to be on such a nice day. The left side of the hallway is covered in tall, floor-to-ceiling windows where the light shines inside in pillars of gold, illuminating the gold of the door handles and hinges.

The two pairs of footsteps echo down the hallway, shoes illuminated in the day's sunlight.

Alphonse Elric turns to look at the princess to his left. "Which room is it?" he asks, never having been to the infirmary himself. Luckily in the four months he's been in Xing so far, he hasn't yet sustained any kind of injury that would warrant him a visit.

Mei turns to him, the wisps of her hair that have come loose from her bun glowing like fairy lights in the noonday sun. "Last one at the end of the hall. Only the best for the Emperor after all."

"Don't let Ling hear you mocking him like that, he'll lose it and you know what happened last time, he lost it over one of your jests."

She smiles like sweet sugar despite the mischievous glimmer in her dark eyes. "I don't think the Emperor is in any kind of state to raise hell right now."

Al shakes his head. Here she is, walking down the hall to where her brother is lying injured in the hospital, still mocking him despite his condition.

Mei sees the worried look on his face though and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Alphonse," she says, genuine sympathy trailing through her voice, "He's going to be fine. He's got the best doctors in Xing taking care of him and I was there in his room yesterday, I helped close up the wound the best to my abilities. Trust me, it's not as bad as it looks or as everyone has made it out to be."

It's sweet that she's concerned about him, but Al still worries about Ling. Yesterday, right after it had happened, the entire palace was filled with nothing but talk of the incident. Whispers of do you think he'll die? or Which clan do you think the attacker belonged to?

Al had come to learn from his very first days in Xing that the people of the court loved nothing more than gossip. Every minor incident, every negligible misstep, and it was talked about for weeks.

Al only knows this too well. There was gossip for weeks when he arrived about his status and who he is and how he knows the Emperor. It was only made worse and continues to be made worse by ever blunder and oversight of Xingese customs that he makes (which is quite often).

But this incident was made different. This time the chatter was not full of hysterical giggles and perfectly crafted reactions, this time there was a buzz of nervousness and mystery in the people. Whatever had happened this time, whatever had transpired here in the palace, this was much different and much deeper than anything before.

When Al went to check in with Mei and see if she knew what was up, he had been stopped by her lady's maid and told she was checking on the Emperor in the infirmary. That had left Al racing across the halls of the palace as fast as he could, fearing what had happened, but he'd been stopped by a guard who told him he was prohibited from entering that wing of the palace. Al would just have to wait.

Mei squeezed Al's hand, drawing him back to the present.

"This is it," she said, gesturing to the door.

"And you're sure he's okay?" Al asked for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"Yes, he's fine, I promise."

"Okay."

Al put his hand on the door handle, ready to open it and find Ling pale and in the bed, tucked in by layers of white and blue hospital blankets.

"Are you coming in with me?" Al asks, turning back to Mei.

"No. I'm going to go have tea with Lan Fan. She's been beating herself up hard over it so I'm going to try and talk to her."

Al nods and turns back to the task at hand and pushes open the door.

The room is painted in the same sunlight as the hallway, only harsher now in the small space—though the room isn't small by any normal means of a hospital room. The room is much bigger than any hospital room Al has ever seen, but perhaps that's just one of the perks of being the Emperor.

There aren't any doctors in the room at the time, and Al has a feeling Ling kicked them out for all their worried hovering.

"You have time for a guest?" Al asks, still standing near the door.

"I suppose," Ling tries to say flippantly, but a smile breaks through.

He's sitting the hospital bed in a sleeveless, white shirt, thick bandages wrapped about both his forearms. His hair is in disarray, his bangs messily falling into his eyes and the rest of it isn't held together in its usual ponytail. Right now he's peering up at Al from above a couple of sheets of paper he holds. Work never stops for the Emperor it seems.

Al takes a seat on one of the chairs next to Ling's bedside. It appears he's had other visitors here today.

"How are you doing?" Al asks.

Ling rolls his eyes. "If I hear one more person ask me that question I think I'm going to fall over and die."

That's fair. Al remembers having the same thought when he grew tired of lying dormant in a hospital for weeks after getting his body back on the Promised Day.

"So then," Al says, leaning back into his seat, getting right to the point. "What exactly happened?"

"No one told you?"

"They told me, yes, but I would prefer to hear it from you."

Al's heard the story, several times in fact. He's gotten the gritty details from Mei even, but there's a feeling in the back of Al's mind that tells him there's some kind of deeper truth to the story, one that tells him Ling wouldn't naturally do something so stupid.

It's a feeling that tells Al that it's an experience similar to his own.

"Well, there isn't very much to tell," Ling starts. "I was walking through the garden and a man in a mask and dark clothing jumped out of nowhere and tried to attack me. Assassination attempt since I'm the Emperor and all."

He says it so nonchalantly like he's only talking about the weather or some other menial topic.

"Anyway, Lan Fan wasn't fast enough to get him, and though I'm trained in defense, I raised my arms up in front of me as a shield."

Ling stares into Al's eyes. "And don't lecture me about it either, I don't know why I did it, so don't ask. It was just like something came over me and that was all I could think to do."

"Something like an old instinct?" Al asks.

Ling blinks and turns away to stare down at his hands folded neatly on the sheets of the bed.

"Something like that," Ling answers quietly.

Al knows what happened after that. Immediately after Ling was struck, Lan Fan lunged at the attacker, pinning him the ground. There was a clatter as his sword fell to the earth, hitting the stone path and skidding across the rocks.

There was blood, so much blood, Al has been told. Both his forearms were bleeding from where the blade of the sword had cut him. The rest of is history.

"You know, something similar happened to me," it's a slight change of subject, and Al doesn't want to turn the conversation around and make it all about himself when Ling is the one in need here, but Al thinks it could help him.

"Yeah?" Ling asks, looking up at Al again. "Tell me about it."

It's a memory from not to look ago. Several months ago, probably around a year back by now.

Al had been walking through the streets of Central when it had happened. They were coming to help Brigadier General Mustang with an exceptionally puzzling case, one that required the input of the country's best alchemists, according to Mustang.

There'd been a lot of grumbling from Brother about going out there, but Al had eventually convinced him that they should go and they bought tickets for the next train to Central.

Their train, despite the early hour they left from Resembool, didn't arrive in Central until two in the morning the next day. The train breaking down near a small town outside of East City being the cause of that, something that had only further irritated Edward.

They had been searching for their hotel in Central City, moon out and suitcases still in hand, when it had happened.

Al and Ed were walking down an alleyway, hoping it was a shortcut to the hotel when a man had jumped up from the shadow, a gun pointed at them.

"Drop your suitcases and wallets and I'll let you two walk out of here worry free," the man directed in a grumbled voice.

Al was pretty used to looking down the barrel of a gun by now, he'd experienced far too many cases of it for a single lifetime.

There was plenty of crime in Central, but now after everything had blown over from the Promised Day, Al wasn't expecting to find himself facing any more life-threatening situations for a long time. They really have worst of luck.

"I said," the man repeated, "put your shit down and I'll let you walk out of here without me having to fire at you."

"Like hell we will," Ed spat, clapping his hands and lunging for the attacker.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, came over Al's mind, realizing this was no good and that Ed was very obviously going to be shot. He doesn't have his alchemy, not like he used to, so he's jumping in blind sighted. He couldn't just let that happen, so Al did the only thing he knew to save his brother.

At the very last moment, Al jumped in front of his brother, arms outstretched like a giant shield, and the gun fired.

Al dropped to the ground, not because of the force of the shot, but because of the shocking pain of being hit.

"Alphonse!" Al heard his brother scream, but his mind was far away from the situation like he had been submerged into the deep of the ocean.

There was more screaming, another gunshot perhaps. Al doesn't remember much of it after that.

The morning after, Al found himself lying in a hospital bed, clothed in blue hospital scrubs, a deep burning near his shoulder.

He blinked as he woke, the sun too bright for his sleepy eyes.

Why am I here? He thought.

His memory of the night before—or the very early morning should he say—came back to him at once. His brother and the criminal and the gun.

Brother!

"Brother!" Al called in a frantic voice.No. No! Surely nothing happened to Ed. He can't—I need him!

Al's breath quickened, his throat tightening and tears springing to his eyes.

He didn't know what had happened to Ed. It seemed he had lost his grasp of consciousness before the scuffle drew to a conclusion.

"Al!" The door flung open and a frantic looking Ed rushed in, his messy hair flying behind him.

"I—" Al stuttered, relieved to see that Ed seemed to be uninjured, but Al was still in a state of panic. "I didn't know where you went and I'd thought that maybe—maybe—" his voice trailed off, not being able to finish the rest.

They were silent for a moment and Ed walked up to the hospital bed, sitting on the edge of it.

"Al you idiot!" Ed said finally. "How could you have done that?"

Whatever Al was expecting Ed to say to him, it wasn't this.

"Brother, I don't understand."

"Why did you jump in front of me like that? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"No."

"Well then you better have a pretty good explanation of why!"

It was a reverse of their typical positions. For so long it had been Al who was admonishing Ed in this same hospital for being reckless and getting hurt in a fight, never the other way around.

"Because I—I—" Why exactly did he do it? It was clearly a stupid plan. If Ed was going to get shot, then why would Al think that jumping in front of him would help?

"Because I was trying to protect you!"

Al intertwined his fingers and looked down at them. "I didn't know any other way to protect you, that was all I could think of," he said much quieter than before.

"There are better ways of protecting people rather than just—" but Al cut his older brother off.

"It always worked in the past, okay! Whenever people were in danger I would always shield them with my body since I was just a suit of armor and I couldn't get hurt so it made sense! I know I'm not that way anymore, but it's just an instinct now! I can't help it."

"Oh," Ed said softly, turning away. "I didn't think of it that way."

"I'm sorry, Brother. I really am."

Al felt Ed take his hand in his.

"Just don't make the same mistake again, okay? You really scared me, I thought you were dead, Al!"

"I won't, I promise."

"You're lucky it was only your shoulder where the bullet hit. The doctor said luckily it didn't hit you anywhere where there were nerves or organs on whatever. He said it will heal pretty quickly."

"That's good."

Their eyes meet again. "But seriously, Al, if you do that again I swear I'm going to have a heart attack at eighteen."

Al finishes recounting the story to Ling and for a long they simply sit there in silence, Ling digesting his words. Al doesn't mean to worry him, to freak him out with the little anecdote, but he also wants Ling to know he's not alone in this. They're both going through a change where the instincts that were once helpful in the past have turned treacherous. It's a unique experience, but it's one only they share.

Eventually, Ling speaks. "So then how did you stop doing it?"

"Time helps, I think. All wounds take time to heal, and I think this takes time too. Eventually, the feeling will fade. Training with Mei has also been helpful since she gets mad every time I do it on accident."

"That's my sister for you."

Al smiles. She's a handful, but she's an enjoyable handful.

"Sometimes, and I've never told anyone this before, but sometimes I think Greed is still with me," Ling says, averting his gaze again. "I find myself talking alone to myself because I think I'm still speaking to him. Or sometimes I think I'm invincible, that I still have the Ultimate Shield to protect me. That's why I did it, I think. I thought my arms would still be able to protect me like they used to, so I put them up in front of me."

There's a pause for a moment and Al looks out the window across the room and watches a warbler land on a branch of one of the blooming trees.

"I know the feeling. I sometimes still feel like I'm the armor." he doesn't tell Ling how it terrifies him some nights. How he'll wake up screaming because he thinks he's trapped inside its metal skin.

The peace is interrupted when the doctor opens the door, making them both jump. He starts speaking in rapid Xingese to Ling.

"He says he has to take off the bandages and see how things are healing. He also wants you out while he does it," Ling summarizes.

Alphonse stands, the chair scooting slightly back across the tiled floor as he does. "Alright, I'll see you later then." He leans down and picks up the jacket that he had taken off halfway through their conversation. Before he leaves, Al looks at Ling, still sitting in his hospital bed. "If you need anyone to talk to, though, I'm here for you."

On that note, Al turns to leave.

"Hey, Al," Ling calls from behind him when Al has his hand on the doorknob.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Al turns back to him, looking the Emperor in the eyes. "No problem."

Turning the handle, Al leaves, stepping back into the sunlit hallway and walking away.