"Why am I placed under you?"

The colonel smirked at the newly appointed major. "Why, Fullmetal? Are you scared?"

Golden eyes blazed. "Of you? No. I'm just wondering why I'm not placed under someone who isn't a big jerk or something."

To Edward Elric's dismay, Colonel Roy Mustang simply laughed. "Me, a jerk? Fullmetal, you hurt me." The laugh calmed, and the ever-present smirk returned. "It's only fair, isn't it? I found you. I get to keep you. If someone else tries to take you, they'll have to deal with me." The black eyes hardened. "No one takes my men from me." The playful glint returned. "Or a little kid."

Edward glared. "Who are you calling a kid?"

"Last time I checked you're twelve, Fullmetal. I'm pretty sure that counts as a kid."

Edward opened his mouth to protest but realized that Mustang made a fair point. He grumbled and sank into the cushions of the overly big couch he was sitting in.

"In any case, you can go home and do whatever for the rest of the week," Mustang announced, getting serious once again. "Report back to me next Monday."

"Got it," Edward muttered and stood up, walking to the door.

"And, Fullmetal?"

Edward paused before he turned, not being used to the new name just yet. "Yeah?"

"Don't do anything stupid."

The boy scowled. "Like what, throw a chair at you? Because I definitely will." The door was yanked open, and he slipped away and slammed the door close. Mustang sighed.

"What a troublesome little brat."

"You did well in your job. I say you deserve a good rest, Fullmetal."

Edward kept quiet, simply nodding without a word and refused to meet Mustang's eyes.

"Fullmetal?"

"What?" came the irritated reply. Golden eyes finally met onyx ones, full of fire, full of... anger? Hurt?

"Fullmetal, what happened?" Mustang couldn't help but ask. This boy was a pawn in his chess game, but it didn't mean he didn't wish for the well-being of his pieces. What use did he have for pieces that wouldn't move as he wanted to? Granted, Edward wasn't the most obedient piece out there, but he was his wildcard. He was an important piece.

"None of your business," Edward grumbled, before adding under his breath, "Colonel Bastard."

"Fullmetal, as your commanding officer I order you to tell me what's troubling you," Mustang said, irritated at Edward's newly found nickname for him.

"What, it's not like you're gonna throw me out if I don't," Edward snorted.

"Would you rather face court-martial instead?" Mustang's brow shot up.

Edward glared angrily. "That's abuse of power and rank, Colonel."

"And since your rank is below me, Major, I suggest you start talking."

Edward glared at the table in front of him, mouth clamped shut. Just when Mustang was sure that he wouldn't talk and opened his mouth to send him away, the boy spoke up, "They called me a dog."

Mustang's lips tighened into a grim line. "Who did?"

"The people in the town you sent me to," Edward's brows knitted together. "I helped them as much as I could, but... most of them still gave me looks. What'd I do wrong anyway?"

"Nothing," Mustang answered. "You did your job. That's all."

"Then why am I hated?" Edward questioned, finally meeting Mustang's eyes, golden orbs filled with pained confusion. Then, as soon as gold met black, understanding dawned in the molten gold and he gave a sigh. "Oh. It's not me, is it. It's the 'Alchemist of the State' part they hate."

Mustang stared at the boy calmly. "I'm afraid so, Fullmetal. Most people aren't really that chummy with State Alchemists in general."

Edward snorted. "Like you need to tell me that. I know." Then he blinked. "Oh... Oh."

Mustang gave a grim smile. "Flame Alchemist, Fullmetal. Remember?"

Edward stayed in contemplative silence for a while before asking, "How do you deal with it?"

Mustang shrugged. "There isn't anything we can do about it, really. You'll get used to it." It was sad, but it was true. "I doubt you'll be able to, though. With such short temper, you'll blow everything before you do."

"Who are you calling so short he can climb a tree and sit in a bird's nest and people will think that he's the bird?!" Edward screamed at once, leaping to his feet. He stomped his way out of the office. "I should have known better," he grumbled.

"Edward," the call made Edward pull to a stop, apparently surprised that Mustang actually used his name instead of his title. "You can come to me, you know. Or the others in the team. We'll listen."

Edward didn't say anything. He resumed his march outside, but the door wasn't slammed as hard as it usually was.

"Another dead end?"

He received a nod as an answer. Golden eyes met black, and Mustang knew immediately that he felt frustrated. How can he not be? He had been chasing this for two years, and still there was no luck for him. There was still no lead on getting Alphonse's body back.

"Not that surprising, is it?" the boy's voice was detached. "I'm chasing something that's supposedly inexistent, after all."

"No," Roy admitted. "Not surprising, at all."

Edward sighed, back leaning to the couch. "What else do you need me to do?"

Roy handed him a file. "You don't need to worry about this mission for a while, officially you'll be going on a train to this town, Anghier, next week. There's been a string of theft, robberies, and several attempts of harrassment to young women in the area. Supposedly they are done by the same person who seem to be able to use alchemy, but his ability is laughable." He leaned back into his chair. "Just take it easy for now. Rest, you'll need it."

Edward eyed him suspiciously. "You're being awfully generous. What do you want?"

Roy smirked. "Nothing. Is it weird that I care about your well-being?"

"As a matter of fact, it is."

Roy sighed. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, Fullmetal. I picked you up. I get to keep you. It's only fair if I take care of you as well."

"You make it sound like I'm a stray puppy," Edward accused.

Roy shrugged. "Aren't we called dogs of the Military?"

Edward gave a small 'hmph'. "At least no one's calling my brother that," he muttered, a hint of hurt in his voice.

"For all I know, you both are strays, though," Roy muttered under his breath. Edward looked at him questionably, having heard him speak but not hearing his words clearly. " 're dismissed."

"Okay?" Edward lifted a brow, but said no more. He stood up and walked out. His hand hovered above the door's handle and he turned slightly. "Colonel?"

"Hm?"

"As far as I know, other commanding officers don't exactly take care of their subordinates."

Roy smirked. "I'm special like that. My men wouldn't be of any use for me if they aren't well, now, would they?"

"Why is everything a political game to you?" this time Edward did turn, irritation in his features.

"Because there is a ladder that I mean to climb, and to do that I need all the power I can get," Roy replied confidently. "But don't worry, Fullmetal. I really do care for my men."

"I'm sure you do," Edward remained unconvinced. As usual, the door was slammed hard, and Roy found himself chuckling. It was fun, refreshing somewhat, to have a subordinate that reacted the way Edward Elric did.

"Alphonse!"

Mustang looked up from his paperwork. "Fullmetal?" he called, looking at the young alchemist in surprise. "I didn't call you in. Is there something wrong?"

Edward stood by the door, one hand gripping the handle (the automail hand, Mustang noted somewhat disdainfully when he heard the handle gace a crack) and the other running through his bangs in anxious movements. His breath was quick and shallow, eyes darting around in a manner that made him look like a rabid dog. Mustang was alerted immediately. It wasn't like Edward to simply barge in rooms looking like a mess. He barged into rooms all the time, but he was always in control, even when he was at his angriest. But now... Edward looked so close to breaking down.

"Fullmetal?" he called.

Edward snapped his head to him, looking as if he had only registered his presence just now. "Colonel," he called, voice urgent, "Have you seen Al?"

Mustang didn't answer. He kept staring at the golden boy instead, and Edward's anxiety visibly doubled. "Come on, old man. I don't have time to play with you."

Wordlessly, Mustang stood up and walked to Edward, who stared at him in equal parts of hopeful nervousness and wary suspicion. Then, without warning, he yanked Edward in and closed the door shut.

"Tell me what happened."

"Bastard," Edward growled. "Let me out, now. I need to find Al."

"And I'm willing to help, Fullmetal, but you need to tell me what happened." Mustang's onyx eyes stared into Edward's tired golden ones.

Either Edward wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, or he was too tired and anxious to find Alphonse, Mustang would never know. Edward sighed and answered, "I... I got into a fight with Al."

"A fight," Mustang repeated, brows furrowed. Imagining the two brothers actually having a fight was so hard to believe.

"Weren't you listening?" Edward asked irritably. "We were just talking about that last mission you gave me. Myssact. As you know, the lead turned out to be a dead end again..." Edward sighed. "I was... tired of it. I told Al that maybe... there's a chance that we won't ever recover his body and..." his voice died away. "He shouted at me for giving up. I told him I was just being realistic, and we kind of just screamed at each other, and he ran out of the door." He looked up to meet Mustang's eyes. "It's been three hours, Mustang. He's never gone this long." The panic in his eyes was so palpable, and Mustang was suddenly aware that the boy was ready to burst into tears.

Mustang sighed. "Alright, Fullmetal. I need you to calm down."

"But I am - "

"No you're not. It's easy to see that. Calm down. Take deep breaths." He demonstrated his command and Edward followed unconsciously. "Good. Now, I know you two are in the library a lot. Have you checked?"

"I have, Al isn't there," Edward bit his lower lip, flesh hand gripping automail shoulder tightly and his breath began to hitch once again. Mustang nudged him to take deep breaths once again.

"Does he have any place he always visits whenever he feels down?" Mustang tried again.

"Not that I - " Edward stopped. "Thanks, Colonel," he suddenly said, turning to the door, eyes no longer clouded in panic and instead shone in brilliant determination.

"Bring him back, will you, Fullmetal?" Mustang asked, more of an attempt to talk to Edward than out of actual concern since he was sure the brothers will be fine.

"Don't order me around like I'm some kind of dog," Edward grumbled before he stiffened.

"Forgotten our dear nickname already, Fullmetal?"

"Unfortunately, no," Edward responded humorlessly. "You old dog," he added under his breath.

"Careful, Fullmetal. I'm still your superior. I might just have you face court martial for insubordination."

"Woof," Edward said dryly before he slipped out of the room. The door wasn't slammed, but instead in his haste Edward left it wide open.

Maes Hughes threw a somewhat amused look to his friend. "Really, Roy. Didn't you say you'd take care of your subordinates?"

"I didn't have this in mind when I said that," Mustang growled.

"But doesn't this count as taking care, too?"

The glare Mustang sent his way ended up making Hughes laugh instead of shutting up like Mustang hoped. "Come on, Roy. If not you then who else will take care of him? He's all alone here, in case you haven't realized it."

"I don't know, someone," Mustang snapped. "Even Alphonse could take care of him."

"He can't, not really," Hughes shook his head. "You know Ed will never let Al near him when he's sick. He won't let Al see him weak."

"And what makes you think he'll let me see him weak?" Mustang demanded angrily.

"Well you can force him to take some medicines at least since you clearly have more authority over him than Al!" Hughes shrugged.

Mustang let out a voice that could have escaped from a dying horse's mouth. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

The two walked to the military dorms to check on Edward. According to Alphonse, Edward had caught a cold that seemed to have been an epidemic in the area. For others, it was just coughs and runny nose with varying degrees of light fever. Edward, apparently, couldn't do anything like a normal person and had to be dramatic. He had coughed "so badly it's agonizing just to watch, his nose is stuffy and runny at the same time, he has a really bad headache, his face is flushed, and he refuses to check his temperature but he is definitely having a really bad fever," as Alphonse put it. Another inconvenience of having a body that cannot feel, Mustang noted grimly, was that Alphonse couldn't simply use his own hand to check on Edward's temperature. On the other hand, it was also a good thing that Alphonse was a suit of armor. At least he wouldn't catch Edward's sickness.

When the two got in the dorm, Alphonse practically flung the door open and cried, "Colonel, Lieutenant Colonel! Help, Brother's dying!"

"Ed's what?" Hughes asked in surprise, staring into Alphonse's burning red with his twinkling green, rooted in his place because of the shock the words gave him.

Mustang, however, wasted no time slipping in through the gap between the door and Alphonse and strode straight to the bed, where Edward was sprawled pitifully, all while taking in the sight of the messy room and breathing the stench of sickness in the air. The boy was coughing into the sheets, each cough racking his body painfully. He sounded like he was choking for air in between the coughs but was unable to supply himself with the oxygen he needed. A pang of sympathy struck, and Mustang found himself easing the boy. He understood, now, what Alphonse meant by his description.

"I didn't know what to do, that's why I called you," Alphonse explained from behind, sounding like he was in the brink of tears. "Brother's almost never sick. When he's sick, he's sick. But this is the first time I have to deal with it alone. Before we had Mom, then we had Teacher, but now we're alone and no one can help and I don't know if I can treat him by myself..."

"Sssh, Al, it's okay," Hughes moved to calm Alphonse, and Mustang found himself envying how it was so easy for Hughes to bring a sense of peacefulness to the younger Elric. "Don't worry about it. We should go to the kitchen and prepare something for your brother to eat. Roy can take care of things here, right Roy?"

Mustang nodded. "Of course. Though I'd appreciate it if you can bring some water," he requested, motioning to the empty jug and glass by the bed.

"Oh, I meant to refill it but I forgot..." Alphonse said in embarrassment. "But I'm not sure, Colonel. Brother threw everything up...'

"Even water?" Mustang asked in alarm. Alphonse's nod made him stare at the boy in his arms with wide eyes filled with something akin of... dread? Worry? Anxiety? A mixture of them all? Mustang didn't know. He shook his head. "Alright, clearly this is a very bad case of fever, then. Let's just bring him to the hospital."

A voice groaned with rawness and hoarseness of a living corpse, "No... hospital..."

Mustang nearly jumped, but then he realized that the one that had just spoken was Edward. "Fullmetal, you're sick. Hospital is the best choice for good treatment."

"It smells of the dead."

"If this goes on you might as well be the one giving off the odor!"

Edward moved, for the first time looking at him. The sorry sight made Mustang's breath hitch in his throat. Edward was pale, so pale. His face looked almost skeletal, and his eyes were sunken deep, red and bagged. A sliver of sweat covered his face. His breathing was somewhat irregular. Snot was running down his nose, which he wiped oh so casually with his long sleeved shirt. He sniffed. "I don't like hospitals," he sulked, something that Mustang thought he would never see.

"Fine," Mustang huffed, not sure if he can drag the half dead boy to the hospital anyway. "But if you get worse I'll bring you to the hospital no matter what you say."

Edward's only response was to flop back into his bed. The lack of yelling itself was alarming. Mustang shared a look with Hughes, and they both stood up.

"I'll try to cool him down," Mustang said, striding towards the kitchen to take some small towels and a bowl of cool water.

"Let's make that porridge, Al," Hughes said with the same sense of purpose in his voice, knocking Alphonse's chest plate casually. Alphonse responded with a small "okay" and followed Hughes like a lost puppy. Soon, the two had busied themselves with pans and stove while Mustang sat next to Edward's bed and urging him to change his clothes into something not covered with sweat and snot and placing cool, wet towel on his forehead once he was dressed in a fresh set of clothes. Mustang carelessly tossed the dirty laundry to a corner of the room to deal with later on.

Edward moaned when Mustang placed a new wet towel on his forehead. He cracked his eyes open and stared at him irritably. "Why are you here?" he asked with raspy voice.

"Your brother's very worried," Mustang replied. "I can't just turn down his request when he sounds like that. Besides, I don't want my subordinate not being able to work."

The look in Edward's eyes was curious, questioning, and maybe the littlest bit confused. "Do all commanding officers do things like this to their subordinate?" he inquired, words slurring a little.

"Not really," Mustang answered truthfully, "but I can't just ignore a sick kid."

"Not a kid..."

"Minor, then. Who is very, very sick."

Edward coughed. "I can take care of myself, you know. You can just leave."

"Yeah right," Mustang snorted. "I'm not leaving until you're better, Fullmetal. You should just shut up and rest. Be a good boy for once."

"Bastard," Edward grumbled, but he sank deeper into his bed all the same. Then, he commented, "You're weird."

"Weird? Me?" Mustang smirked. "How exactly am I weird, Fullmetal?"

"You take care of your subordinate as if they aren't subordinates. It's almost as if they're family," Edward murmured, eyes closing as fatigue took hold of his form. He wasn't fully conscious anymore, Mustang could tell.

"I just care for them, Fullmetal. Doesn't mean I hold them dear in that way." The rebuttal sounded weak in his own ears, perhaps because it doesn't feel like the truth to him.

"Still..." Edward sniffed, face scrunched up in pain, "you don't exactly treat me like one of your team either..."

Mustang sighed. "You're far younger than them, Fullmetal. Of course I treat you differently. I won't give you missions like ones I give them. It would be too dangerous for you. With your temper and everything, you could die."

"It's as if you're more protective of me than of them," Edward's voice was small, breathy, words slurred almost beyond recognition. "Almost... like a real family..." He sighed. "A parent..." the last word was spoken so softly, Mustang nearly didn't hear him. But he did. And the thought startled him.

A parent? That meant... a father?

The ridiculousness!

"And I don't really mind it..."

Mustang was so flabbergasted, he simply stood there without moving as he gazed at the now sleeping boy with mouth hanging open. He doubted Edward would remember having the conversation at all, but he will, and it was just plain ridiculous. Him, a father figure? To Fullmetal, of all people? And Edward, did he just say that he didn't mind? Was it really his honest thought, or was it just the fever speaking?

"How laughable," he found himself grumbling, sitting next to the bed and clutching the other towel that he hadn't dipped into the water. His mind, however, was swirling like a tornado of thoughts. Now that it was pointed out, he realized that he did regard Edward differently from his other subordinates. But wasn't that to be expected? The boy was so much younger, his reaction so much more unpredictable, his insubordination so much more frequent. He was a fresh breeze in the stuffy office and at the same time one of his most valuable pawns. A treasured piece to boost him up in the struggle for power.

Yet he found himself actually caring for the boy too. Not in a sense of 'this is my subordinate and I don't appreciate you trying to take him away', or 'this is an important piece in my game of chess and I need him to be well', but rather in a way that he didn't exactly recognize.

"You really are a stray dog," he found himself muttering. Like a lost puppy that someone managed to pick, Edward had wormed his way to Mustang's heart. Annoying at first, but in the end no one would really be able to kick him away. He had ended up becoming the puppy's keeper.

His throat produced a breathy, deep chuckle that he couldn't contain. He was right at naming Edward his wildcard. And that one very important piece had turned on him in the most unexpected way possible; forcing the coolheaded chess player to become a warmhearted person that care almost too much for his piece's condition.

The sound of hushed laughter from the kitchen reminded the colonel that he wasn't the only one who cared. Hughes cared as well. Hawkeye, most likely, and his whole team. They had somehow ended up being the caretaker of not only Edward, but Alphonse as well. The two brothers had somehow pulled them towards the broken boys. Like a pair of two stray dogs they ended up being in love with.

Minutes passed, and Mustang watched the golden boy sleep. Amazing how fragile he seemed now that he was unwell. Mustang sighed, wiping Edward's sweaty face with a dry hankerchief he pulled from his own pocket.

"Get well soon, you little pup," he remarked.

Edward murmured unhappily in his sleep, and Mustang couldn't help but smile. A little pup indeed.

A/N: I'm in too deep in parental RoyEd thing. I'm supposed to update my multichaptered fic and here I am posting a new fic instead.

Anyway, there goes the story. I don't know what sort of plot bunny attack drove me to writing this. There's something I don't really like about this for some reason but I can't put my finger on it. I hope you like it though.

Last but not least, please review! Because I practically live off of them and they give me a drive to write more.