Roy leaned over Ed's shoulder, watching intently as the young man scribbled out a notation on the rough sketch of a complex transmutation circle. "Maybe if you put this symbol here," he suggested, pointing to a spot on the opposite side of the circle. Ed looked at the spot lit faintly by the glow from Roy's finger and grunted, adding a note about something else entirely.

"Do you think maybe it's time for a break?" Roy asked, looking up at the clock sitting on the back of the desk. It read one in the morning.

"I don't have time for breaks," Ed said shortly. "I'm close, I just know it." He ran his hand through already tousled blond hair that was in desperate need of a wash and heaved a sigh.

Roy took a good look at him. Ed's hair wasn't the only thing that was a mess. His eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep and constant rubbing. Shadows hung underneath them, like twin crescent bruises. Ed's skin was pale and dry – he was probably dehydrated – and he hadn't changed clothes in the past three days, at least.

"Maybe you could just grab something to eat?" Roy suggested. "Some tea? A bath?"

"What, do I look like I'm three?" Ed asked testily. "I know how to take care of myself." He shot a quick glare at Roy, then turned back to his notes. With a snarl of frustration, he crumpled up the paper he was working on and tossed it aside to join the dozens already littering the floor.

Roy looked at Ed doubtfully. "Really? Because, from where I'm standing, you look like you need someone to take care of you. Frankly, I'm just glad I can't smell."

Ed grabbed a clean sheet of paper and slammed it onto the desk in front of him. "If you're so worried about my state of cleanliness, why don't you go get some soap? We're out, and it'll give you something to do. You've been hovering since nine! Yesterday!"

"I'm only trying to help," Roy said, rather calmly, he thought.

"Well, go help somewhere else!" Ed shouted, grabbing his pen. He started drawing and scribbling, tuning everything else out. When he came back to the world of the living an hour later with a jaw cracking yawn, he didn't notice the silence or the lack of any faintly glowing, mostly transparent figures. He rubbed his bleary eyes, decided to call it a night, and stumbled wearily over to his bed in the corner of the room. Without bothering to undress, he flopped face first onto the thin pillow and threadbare blanket, and fell into dreamless sleep.

Ed was up by six that morning, restless from a thought that occurred to him while sleeping. He took a moment to relieve himself, ignoring the frightening apparition that greeted him in the mirror, then grabbed a mug of dubious cleanliness and filled it with cold tea leftover from the night before. Downing it with a grimace, he stacked the cup with the rest of the dirty dishes and turned to the desk once more.

Three hours and twenty-five papers later, Ed stopped and set his pen down. Stretching weary muscles and adjusting his neck with a loud crack, Ed caught a glimpse of a glow out of the corner of his eye and turned, surprised to see Roy sitting on his bed, watching him silently. How the man was able to do things like sit on physical objects, then turn and walk through walls was still a mystery to them both.

"Where have you been?" Ed asked, having only just realized the older man had been gone.

"Out," was Roy's short reply.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Well, you certainly weren't in," he said. "I meant, where did you go?"

"Soap," Roy said, pointing to the rickety table that sat near the corner of the apartment dubbed the kitchen. Ed looked over, and indeed, three bars of soap were stacked neatly in a pyramid shape on the kitchen table. He blinked.

"How did you manage that?" he asked. "I was under the impression you couldn't move objects."

Roy huffed a laugh. "So was I. It's amazing what some willpower can do. Now, I need a nap." So saying, Roy curled up in a ball on his side, head on Ed's pillow, and seemed to fall asleep. His glow faded until he was barely visible.

"Roy?" Ed asked, something in his chest growing tight. There was no response. Ed cursed. Roy was trying to look after him, and his careless words had sent Roy out to attempt the impossible. Ed ignored the part of him that said he didn't need someone watching over him like a little kid and considered Roy as the sleeping man got his ghost cooties all over Ed's pillow. He seemed younger like this, helpless somehow, and at the same time, as worn as Ed had ever seen him.

Ed walked over to the table and picked up a bar of soap. He pulled back the paper and sniffed it, then flaked a bit off with his fingernail and licked it. The soap appeared to be real enough. This seemed fairly conclusive evidence to support his hypothesis that Roy was not a hallucination, but he didn't like the other option: that Roy was dead and this was his ghost. The man had things to do and promises to keep – he shouldn't be lying around dead, somewhere. It just didn't seem right.

Ed ignored the way his throat tightened, passing it off as dehydration. He poured himself another cold cup of tea, but after taking one sip, he looked at the cup in disgust and poured it out. Then he poured out the rest of the tea, as well.

He took stock of his situation. Having not eaten a real meal in the last day and a half, Ed's stomach was protesting loudly, his apartment was a cluttered mess, and – Ed sniffed his shirt – yep, he needed to bathe.

He hated it when Mustang was right.

Sighing, Ed decided to tackle one thing at a time. Grabbing the bar of soap and a clean change of clothes, he headed to the shower. Hot water was scarce, so he didn't linger, but Ed made sure to wash thoroughly. Once dressed, he returned to his apartment. Moving about quietly, he gathered his dirty laundry, picked up his discarded notes, and set all the dirty dishes next to the kitchen sink. He wasn't sure how Roy's sleep situation worked, as this had never happened before, but Ed didn't want to risk waking him.

A twinge of guilt stabbed at him again, but Ed ignored it. There was not much he could do about it right now. The best thing would be for Roy to recover his strength in whatever way worked for him. Having determined that, Ed stuffed his laundry in a sack and left for the laundry house down the street, closing the door carefully behind him and locking it.

When Roy awoke that evening, it was to a different apartment. Gone was the clutter and mess. The dishes were done and put away, and Ed was cooking at the tiny stove. Roy sat up and stretched. "What happened while I was out?" he asked blearily.

Ed didn't turn from the stove, where he was stirring what was probably stew. "Not much," he said, shrugging. "I just figured you were right about needing a break."

Roy knew that was probably the closest he would get to an apology from Ed, so he smiled and accepted it. Standing, he straightened his wrinkle-free clothing out of habit and asked, "Is there anything I can do to help, since I can apparently move objects, now?"

Ed spun around, startling Roy. "No!" he said sharply. "No," he repeated, moderating his voice. "Just have a seat. Stew's almost done." He turned back to the stove.

The small victory Roy felt at being right about dinner was swamped by the surprise that Ed had evidently worried about him. Their relationship had become more civil in the time they'd spent together, but it was by no means a comfortable friendship. Roy sat at the table already set for two and couldn't help but think that maybe there was hope, yet.

End

AN: Well, here's another little piece. Please let me know what you think, any improvements I can make, etc. Thanks!