Ed is forced to do something incredibly dangerous to save his little brother's soul. And it might not even be enough. Fatherly Roy/Ed. Brotherly Al/Ed. Incessant Ed whump.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Chapter 1: Worry

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He hadn't expected any communications. Fullmetal was not known for being on time, listening to orders from his superiors, checking in when he was supposed to… that sort of thing; the sort of thing the military was fundamentally based on. His young charge was the epitome of insubordination and it made Roy rub his fingers together forcefully in annoyance, almost enough to cause a spark.

He knew why Ed did it. The kid didn't think he cared, didn't think anyone in his command would worry about where he was. And of course, Mustang didn't care, only about his reputation. But the others in the office had grown fond of the little shrimp, and it was for their benefit alone that the gnaw of worry had started in his gut, and he'd started ringing around, even got Maes roped in, to see if anyone had seen where the little brat and his armoured brother had disappeared off to.

He remembered the day, two weeks ago, when he'd sent Fullmetal out on a new lead for the philosopher's stone. A lesser known alchemist called Henry Fisher, who was dabbling in soul alchemy, had been causing a bit of a stir in the neighbourhood; strange noises, animals disappearing, among numerous other suspicious happenings, and if nothing else Fullmetal could see if the hermit was up to anything unsavoury or dangerous and shut down the operation, at best the brothers might find something they could work with to get their bodies back.

The Colonel sighed; there were other more pressing missions he could have sent a budding young talented alchemist like Fullmetal out on – maybe he could finally get a sniff at a promotion if Ed would just behave himself for once. But no, he'd gotten soft. He'd put Ed's search for the stone ahead of his own plans. He groaned, remembering Ed's annoyance that had flashed openly on his face at the thought of another meaningless military mission messing with their search.

"His name is Fisher. You are to investigate what all the fuss is about, Fullmetal, and you have orders to apprehend him if things turn sour. Who knows, you might even find this rewarding. If his recent research is anything to go by."

The hint was there loud and clear, but Fullmetal still looked thoroughly put out, as if the Colonel enjoyed sending him in pointless assignments. This, though admittedly amusing, was just asking for Fullmetal to throw a childish tantrum, and despite what the kid thought, Roy didn't want any more grey hairs or premature wrinkles from any more undue stress. Sometimes, the Colonel went out on a limb to do something nice for the kid. Not that he ever got any thanks for his trouble.

"Fine. Whatever." Fullmetal snapped, "You know we had a lead in the opposite direction, don't you, bastard? But sure, we'll go traipsing off into the cold for you, while you sit behind that comfy desk. Wouldn't want you to get wet. Know how useless you are."

"I'm doing you a favour Fullmetal," he had responded coolly, "there are rumours that this alchemist knows about red stones and in a recent report done on him he was rambling about soul alchemy – a few years back he successfully transmuted a chimera, and it showed the personality of both souls within it."

Ed lifted his head sharply at that, golden eyes practically glowing as the mind behind it churned. "Two souls in one body," he murmured, eyes back on the case file, he lifted a page up with his automail finger, "then he may know something about getting Al's body back from the gate… and reuniting the two halves…"

"You're welcome." Roy said, not a little smugly.

Ed rolled his eyes, but there was something in the way of a smile on his face. "Pfft. You're sending me out to do your dirty work for you, don't act as though you're doing me a kindness, jackass!"

"Is there something wrong with the assignment? I can give it to someone else, if you'd prefer."

"No." Ed's mouth flattened out, and he hardened his golden eyes, "I'll take it. Can I go now, bastard?"

"Hmm, you seem a little short on words this morning. I hope nothing's on your mind, dragging you downwards. You can't exactly afford to lose any height."

A spark of anger, a clenched fist, and there was the infamous volcanic Edward Elric fury blazoned in the red cheeks and vibrant golden eyes. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A DUST MOTE SO SMALL YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE IT IN A SUN BEAM?! YOU JERK!"

A smirk. And then the kid had left, grabbed his battered suitcase, and boarded a train with his brother the very same day. Apart from one measly phone call, courtesy of Alphonse of course, stating that other than Fullmetal already picking a fight with one of the townsfolk, they had arrived safely. But there hadn't been so much as a squeak of Fullmetal since then. It had been two weeks, and no word. Usually Al would call them every three or so days to let them know how they were getting on. Mustang hated to admit it, but he was getting worried.

…

It was two days later, that Ed finally showed up. It was early morning and the office had just recently filled with its usual occupants, all bleary eyed and mouths stuck firmly around coffee cups, all except for Hawkeye of course, who always looked impeccable, and had arrived before all the other members of Mustang's team, her cup of coffee steaming on her desk as she sat calmly behind it, flicking through a sheaf of military papers. Havoc was nowhere near as awake, an unlit cigarette dangled haphazardly from his mouth as if he could somehow suck the nicotine out of it.

"Edward." The brown eyed lieutenant stated calmly, "We weren't expecting you; you should have called ahead."

All eyes flew up at the mention of the boss' name, and sure enough there he was. Red coat, blonde hair, small frame - same as always.
Only, he hadn't kicked the door down. He'd opened it and shuffled inside, hunched over a little like a sapling bending to the wind.

"I'll let the Colonel know that you've arrived." Hawkeye got up, her sharp eyes not missing the slump in his usually proud figure. She sent a pointed look to the rest of the team. "I suggest you wait here."

"Yeah, okay." Ed's mouth moved, but he didn't seem to be all there. He stayed by the doorway, shifting to stand by the wall of the office as if he might fall over if he strayed to far inside. His golden eyes grew dull as Havoc watched him, automail fingers slipping from the pockmarked, bullet ridden wall as if he were caressing it.

"Hey," the second lieutenant called out, hiding his worry behind an unlit cigarette that dangled from his slightly smirking mouth, standing up from his desk and coming closer to the kid.

This was something they had all silently agreed upon in the office; if Edward turned up looking as though he had gotten himself into some trouble, or quite obviously should be in the hospital, or had had a fight with Alphonse, or was feeling particularly down from another dead end in their quest to get their bodies back, then one of the team would go over and try to coax Ed out of his shell, to see what was really up with the angst-ridden quick-tempered teenager. It was a delicate operation. And only one person would attempt this at a time, because to be honest it was a bit like cornering a wild animal. It was Havoc's turn.

"You all right there, Boss? Haven't heard from you in a while, where've you been?" a quick glance in the doorway made the heavy weight of unease settle lower in Havoc's stomach when he realised that the familiar armoured hulking shell of Ed's younger brother was missing. He tried to keep his voice light. "And, uh, where's Alphonse? He not with you today, boss?"

Ed smiled, wanly. Now that he was closer, Havoc had to wonder - had the chief always looked that pale? Being a trained field medic, he'd seen his fair share of battle fatigue, and right now Ed's countenance was sending off alarm bells in his head; he was ashen-faced, purple bruises smeared under his eyes. The kid looked like shit. And seemed to be on autopilot.

"Boss?" he asked, all pretence abandoned in the light of true concern, "Hey, you with me?"

"Sure." Edward said, his voice dull, "I'm…" those dimming golden eyes were no longer focusing on Havoc's face, half lidded, his head dipped and the rest of his body followed it on its descent.

It was all Havoc could do to try and keep the young man upright, as he collapsed, boneless, into Havoc's arms.

"Shit!" he had the young man under the armpits, but Ed was a dead weight, his head flumped onto Havoc's middle. "Ed? Chief? Can you hear me?" The kid was completely out of it – had he really just collapsed? The infamous spitfire, the Fullmetal Alchemist?

- Ack! – damn it – he was heavy.

Havoc struggled with Edward's weight, and ended up plonking him to the ground by the wall with a surprised gasp. The office was a blur of commotion around him, always alert should something like this ever happen – though Ed had never actually collapsed in the office before, he had dripped a pint of blood all over the carpet, and one time thrown up on Breda's newly-buffed boots. But not this – this was much worse than -

Hawkeye's sharp eyes were at his front, the scuffling sounds of Breda on his left, Feury and Falman on his right.

And suddenly the Colonel was there, following in Hawkeye's wake from his office, dark eyes wide at the sight of his youngest subordinate, and resident hot head, motionless on the floor, with Havoc trying desperately to keep him upright against the wall without the blonde sliding sideways and landing on his face. The automail arm weighted the kid to the side, and threatened to topple him over.

"What the hell happened?" Mustang demanded, kneeling down immediately to tilt Ed's chin up with his gloved hand. Ed's blonde head lolled back onto the wall, eyes closed and face slack.

Havoc flapped his mouth uselessly; no sound came out. Luckily for him he was not the only one to be observing Edward closely; the entire office had been watching him surreptitiously from behind their desks as soon as the golden haired teen had set his automail foot though the door.

"He – he just collapsed." Said Fuery numbly.

Breda's scowled. "Barely even managed to string two words together."

Mustang's mouth was a grim slash, turning his attention to his youngest subordinate. "Hey, shrimp."

No response. The entire office grew quiet at that.

"Fullmetal, wake up!"

The command was lost on the silent alchemist, although had Ed been awake he probably wouldn't have listened to Mustang anyway, he had never been one to follow orders. Mustang shook the boy's shoulders firmly; the motion nearly making Havoc lose his tenuous hold on Ed completely, which would send the both of them to the floor.

"Colonel, wait!" he gasped, "He's going to fall over - !"

But the Colonel had something odd in his eyes, and his hands were strong and firm as they shook the small body. "Wake up, you little brat!"

"Sir." Said Hawkeye, warningly.

Mustang stopped. Gloved hands moving to brush back the golden bangs from Ed's face. He didn't seem to like what he saw there. "For God's sake, get him on the couch; we can't leave the brat passed out half on the floor."

"Y-yes sir!"

Ed was heavy; the automail weighed a tonne, and it took both Havoc and Breda to successfully waddle to the couch with the small blonde grasped under the armpits and knees between them.

Havoc wiped the sweat from his brow, as they deposited their charge onto the sofa cushions, "Phew, he's not as small as he looks."

"My back is killing me," complained Breda with a pained grimace as he worked out the kinks in his spine. "I didn't realise his arm and leg were so heavy; makes you wonder how the kid even stays upright with all that metal weighing him down."

Ed stirred for a moment, a crease forming in his forehead, his lips pulling taught. Maybe he'd heard them referring to him as a kid and was about to sock them in the jaw with his automail fist.

"Chief?" asked Breda cautiously, a small bead of sweat snaking down his forehead, perhaps from the exertion, and perhaps because he never wanted to call the boss short to his face, that was just asking for a broken jaw.

But after a few moments of tense silence it became apparent that Ed was completely out of it. Pale and unmoving. Havoc almost wished the kid would sock them in the jaw; at least that meant he would be back to his usual self.

"Now," Mustang said dangerously, dark eyes flicking to Havoc's wide blue ones as if looking for someone to blame, "What the hell happened? I need details, Havoc you were the closest to him when he collapsed. What did he tell you?"

Havoc paled at the tone in his commanding officer's voice. It wasn't his fault that Ed had just keeled over! "I – I don't know, boss. He seemed pale and shaky, like he wasn't really aware of where he was – one minute he was upright, the next…" Havoc shrugged, but his eyes were bright with emotion.

Mustang's expression darkened at the lack of explanation, but he nodded; something akin to concern in those black eyes. And then the look was snapped out. He straightened, shoulders broad. Every inch, the Colonel.

"Falman, fetch a doctor. Someone we trust."

"Yes sir." Falman saluted a little sloppily in his haste and was out of the door without another word.

"Lieutenant -"

She turned smartly towards the door, cutting him off. "I'll see if I can get hold of Alphonse right away, sir."

He nodded at her retreating back, "Thank you."

Mustang looked down at the small huddled form on the sofa and frowned.

"We'll just be in the outer room, sir, Hawkeye'll kill us if someone doesn't get at least a little work done today." said Breda, and then softer, "I'm sure the chief will be fine, sir."

Mustang nodded. But none of them could shake the feeling that something was deathly wrong with their youngest member. And where was Alphonse? It wasn't like Ed to be alone, the familiar bulky mass of his brother was like a shadow, always there, always one step behind. He would never have allowed Edward to show up in such a state, would never have allowed him to get into such a state in the first place. Havoc noticed as he bent down to take the kid's boots off to make him more comfortable, that Mustang's eyes were fixed on the boss' face, his jaw tightening in worry.

He had a feeling the Colonel would be standing vigilant at the chief's side until he woke up. If only to lecture him when he finally did.

…

It was a good two hours later that Ed finally woke up. The doctor had been and gone, a reliable man named Dr. Wickes, someone Mustang trusted to do what was right no matter what the higher ups ordered him to do – a dangerous but admirable quality, and a useful person to have around when this team got injured whilst doing something under the radar of the military. In turn, Mustang had helped Wickes out, using his standing in the military to tweak a few strings and get the man to where he was needed most without missing the important moments with his young family.

Wickes had noted the pale skin and stuttering heartbeat of the young man passed out on the couch in Mustang's office and had diagnosed a case of malnutrition and perhaps the onset of influenza.

"I recommend you get this boy to a hospital if his condition deteriorates any further. Seeing as you have no record of what has caused his symptoms, I request to be contacted when he wakes up so that I can put the illness in context…" he had shrugged Edward out of his red coat, and taken his pulse to be sure, and his eyes narrowed at the strange puckered needle marks in the skin there. "He has some tracks on his arms…"

"No," Mustang murmured, coming closer to Ed to view the punctures with his own dark eyes. Those marks didn't make any sense, the proud strong boy that he knew would never resort to such a thing. He would never do that to Alphonse. "Ed would never take drugs." He said, no doubt in his mind. Which left only one other option.

"Hmm." Said Wickes, obviously not completely convinced. "Well it is still an option to consider; his symptoms do fit drug withdrawal. If you have any reason to suspect drug abuse, he should be taken to a hospital immediately."

"It's more likely that he was kidnapped," Mustang said darkly, not wanting to share too much information, only because Wickes himself wouldn't want to know – the less he knew, the less he had to lie to his superiors. "They might have injected him to keep him quiet, or…" he trailed off, his mind spouting off all number of horrible scenarios. Or they could have tortured him, experimented on him, injected all manner of mind-altering drugs into his system. He swallowed, clenching his gloved fists.

Wickes put the stethoscope he had been using to hear Ed's heartbeat back into the small leather bag he had brought with him and sighed heavily, "I'm sorry, but all I can recommend for him at the moment is plenty of bed rest, fluids and soft foods. If for any reason," he added knowingly, his mouth a grim slash as he stood back up and adjusted his collar, "you do not wish the military to be made aware of his condition, I suggest that if he is not taken to a hospital he is at least monitored throughout the day. Any change in his heartbeat, or a sudden rise in temperature, could prove fatal. You should contact me immediately, Colonel."

Mustang had nodded stiffly, "Thank you. I really appreciate you coming here. We'll be sure to get in touch as soon as he wakes up."

The doctor saw himself out.

Two hours later, Ed had shown the first signs of awareness. He twitched, the red coat that had been slung over him as a makeshift blanket became crumpled and scrunched under his mismatched fists. His golden eyes cracked open, slitted gold, and a tongue poked out to moisten his dry lips. He coughed, blinking his golden eyes open fully. The first thing he said, predictably, once he'd taken in his surroundings, was a half-awake: "Al..? Alphonse?"

Mustang sighed, he hadn't expected the kid to wake up so soon, and could tell that he was still pretty much out of it. He hadn't planned on having to deal with a sick Fullmetal, that was more Hughes area of expertise. With any luck he'd go back to sleep and wake up when he was more lucid, and then Mustang could interrogate him in the proper manner – with an air of smug superiority and a long list of insults about the kid's height.

"He's not here, Fullmetal." He had to strain to hear it, but Ed was definitely mumbling something to himself.

"Of course he is." Ed was saying softly, a small frown on his face. "He's here. He was right here. Always with me."

"Fullmetal..?" Mustang had gotten up from his desk now, not liking the way Ed looked. He came closer to inspect the smaller alchemist, dark eyes analysing the kid's pale face. Well, the little brat looked like shit. He definitely needed more sleep. "You came to my office alone, and then collapsed. Care to tell me what the hell is going on?"

"He's here, Colonel. I wouldn't leave him. He's my... little brother."

He felt an uncomfortable lump in his throat. "Of course you wouldn't leave him. How about you get some more sleep. I'll wake you later."

And the kid, for once, did what he was told, settling back onto his couch cushions and closing those dulled golden eyes. He hoped Fullmetal was just drowsy, because for a moment there he had sounded mad. Mustang grimaced as he remembered the Doctor's previous diagnosis of drug abuse. He shook his head, sitting down behind his desk and picking up a pen. The mountain of paperwork wasn't going to do itself.

His pen scratched loudly in the quiet of the room, so loudly that he found himself, more than once, looking up to make sure the kid was still breathing, usually Fullmetal snored something awful. Mustang wasn't concerned. It would just be a pain in the ass, quite literally with where Hawkeye aimed her gun, to explain it if the kid died on his watch.

His dark eyes flicked to the couch, creasing in concern. A real pain in the ass.

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Please review, should I continue?