I don't think I remember a night where I last slept peacefully. Every night when I laid to rest it ended the same: relentlessly restless, never falling asleep for more than an hour. Ever since that messy, bloody, stressful night, I haven't gotten a wink, because all I could hear were those cries of a poor, tortured soul.

And that poor, tortured soul's name was Allen.

My eyes cracked open as a mass cries sounded from down the hall and I looked to my wife, who'd become quite resistant to those exact noises for the last few days, knowing she wasn't the only parent. It was my turn, I suppose. I swung myself over the side of the bed and stalked down the hall, weighted legs carrying me to the nursery.

Allen really did need to learn to control this display of behavior-but you can't really tell that to a nine month old baby. His siblings never cried this much, he must have gotten it from his mother. No, never me, what would make you think that?

I scooped my hands under the small child and picked him up carefully, swaying him side to side in weak attempts to calm him. I felt bad for infants, I truly did. So new to the world, they've never felt real pain or discomfort-so any pain or discomfort they feel sends their little brains in overdrive, they think the world is ending!

"You would not survive half the shit I went through." I mumbled, still bouncing him. With no response I made a face, a puff of air leaving my nose. Babies were the worst conversationalists. Still, I carried on, knowing eventually I'd have to start watching my language. "Someday you'll be able to understand me. We don't want that, nooo."

By the time Allen stopped crying I'd already realized sleep wasn't an option, so I put him in his crib and crept to my study. I was supposed to wake up in an hour anyhow, I had work in South City. I needed to drive all the way there to meet with Colonel-no, Fuhrer Bastard and give my blood reports. That old fart had no reason to come and see me for said reports, his men could handle it, but I was curious to know why he continued to show up anyway. Could it be he actually missed me?

I laughed loudly at the simple thought and covered my mouth, eyes darting back to my son's room from where I sit in my study. In the clear I shook my head. Still, I chuckled, chin in hand. What an absurd train of thought that was.

I sat in my office, coffee in hand, for a good half an hour before I deemed it necessary to start my 'I have to drive all the way to South City' morning routine: shower, sulk, eat breakfast, sulk, get the kids ready for school, wake up my wife, sulk some more, then kiss them all and leave for what would be the sulkiest, most self-loathing filled car ride of my life. Though that was every trip away from Resembool.

As I grabbed my keys Granny stopped me by the doorway, pipe in her hand already so early in the morning. "I'm leaving in a few hours for an out of town automail fitting." She stated flatly, smoke escaping her lips. "I'll be gone a few days, so I want you home as soon as possible. I don't want Winry and the kids alone for too long with that psycho running around."

I pursed my lips, closing my eyes for just a moment. "I know, I know, don't remind me. I've got the blood reports about the same guy in my bag," I pat said bag for emphasis, "you don't have to tell me that."

She grinned and nodded, letting me through the door. I tossed my bag into the back seat of my car and sat down in the drivers seat, rubbing my face in one last, weak attempt to wake myself up. Aside from my earlier joking, Allen really was becoming a problem every night, hindering my sleep schedule drastically. Winry, not so much. The past few weeks she had grown quite accustomed to hearing those cries, and was also used to me being the one to solve the problem, and she accepted that gladly. She carried the boy for nine months, it was the least I could do.

I started the car and threw on my seatbelt, pulling out and starting down the makeshift road. Work was getting much more difficult, though. I'd messed up a blood report recently because I couldn't think straight-hell I couldn't even see straight due to the lack of sleep and I got my ass chewed out by Fuhrer Dipshit. If he had three kids, he wouldn't be such an ass about it, at least I'd like to think.

When I finally arrived to South City HQ I was stopped, as usual, ID'd as usual, and sent on my way through the front gates. Through the door, twenty steps, up the stairs, about fifty-two steps in total there, thirty-three steps down the long hallway, turn left, and there's the office I considered hell. I'd spend around an hour in there briefing my reports, hand them over, then leave. Sometimes we all did lunch, but Granny was right; I had to get home.

Mustang was already present in the office, smirking at me and most likely inwardly laughing at my disheveled appearance. "What are we calling this look, Elric?"

A little confused-it couldn't be that bad- I used the window as a mirror, frowning. Dark circles, frown lines and scruff I had been too tired to shave away this morning. I raised my eyebrows and turned towards him, forcing a smile. "I call it 'Daddy Doesn't Get Much Sleep Anymore', latest look this summer, try it." I laughed, pointing a finger at him. "Oh, that's right, Hawkeye wont give you that lay you've been groveling for."

"Shove it, Edward." He grumbled, pointing to the chair across from him. With him, only Maes and Jean were present, and I thanked the Gate internally Hawkeye wasn't there to hear my quip. I sat down and fished the folders from my bag, throwing them on the table, but before I could even begin, Mustang butted in with another snide remark. "These ARE the right reports, aren't they, Edward?"

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "Fuck off, I said I was sorry."

I couldn't see it, but I knew Mustang smirked before dropping the topic and going back to reading the report. "So we still don't have a possible suspect?"

I shook my head.

"We're five killings in."

I pointed to Hughes. "Ask him, he's the one on the case. I'm just the blood guy. I do my lab shit and leave." I sighed, letting my hand support my aching head. As Mustang began to ask Hughes and Havoc about what they'd found I felt myself dozing off, nearly hitting the table before Mustang woke me back up with a curt command, voice stern.

"Wake up, Elric, now what do all of these victims have in common?" Mustang asked.

"Women, blonde, middle aged, maybe 30's-40's, mothers." I stated mechanically. Every women could be sisters, they were even close together in height. "Whoever this guy is he's either got some weird fetish or strong bias."

"Well, considering the women weren't harmed sexually," Jean began, looking over his own reports, "we can rule that out-this guy's just really got beef with middle-aged moms."

"Maybe something that happened with his own mother?" Hughes chimed in curiously, looking to me from the corner of his eye. I nodded.

"Probably. Maybe abuse." I replied. "This murder is a little different, though. The guy's been bludgeoning them to death with big items, probably a bat, the impact wounds on this recent victim's body say otherwise." I pointed to the gruesome photos laid out on the table. "He may have used a hammer for this one, the splatter on the walls indicated that's a strong possibility. He may have deemed it easier to weild. We can also guess that from the location of the wounds, he snuck up on them from behind, and he's gotta be tall. Maybe six foot." I moved on to the next photo. "From where he kills them, he drags them elsewhere, usually the bathroom, leaves them in the tub to bleed out. Fuck if I know why but whatever."

Mustang leaned back. "So all we got for a possible ID is that he's six foot or taller?" I nodded. "Wonderful."

"Until we get an eye witness to one of these damn things, there's not much we can do." I bit out. "We could always have guards staking out houses. Houses that belong to women who match the victim's characteristics."

"We could try that." Hughes stated. "I'll get an order in when we get back to Central. We don't know when he's going to kill again, so I say we station some guards out tomorrow night."

"Do that." I said. "We'll have some guards stationed in Central, and watch the city borders. Eventually he'll run out of victims there and move, if he hasn't already."

Mustang agreed and stood, shaking my hand when I stood as well. "That's all we needed today. If another body pops up we'll contact you."

I glared at him. "I can't keep commuting back and forth like this, you know."

"So move to Central."

"Winry doesn't want to. Besides, you have other blood experts."

"None like you." He smiled, genuinely this time, and turned to leave, Havoc grinning and waving to me as he followed Roy out, Maes in tow.

I stood there for a moment and sighed, picking up my bag and heading out as well. I stopped by a payphone and dialed my house phone, waiting for an answer. Upon receiving none and being sent to the machine I made a face, one of befuddlement, and a little worry. I dialed again.

"Sorry, sorry!" Winry answered on the other side immediately. "Allen was crying, the kids were fighting and-" She stopped and took a breath, probably taking a moment to fix her hair. "Rockbell Automail, how can I help you?" Her tone was sweet but business-like; it was warm, just the way her customers liked it. I smiled.

"Yes, I was calling about scheduling a maintenance check today?" I played, trying to sound as seductive as possible. "Are you open at all today?"

"Weelllll..." Winry played along, knowing now that it was me. "I may be able to fit you in ..."

I bit my lip, grinning. "I sure hope so, Mrs. Elric, I've got quite the tight spot, think some things need to be loosened up."

She laughed on the other end of the line. "I'm not doing this anymore, you're probably on a public phone and the kids are in the other room...What do you need, Ed?"

"You wound me, darling." I replied, leaning against the wall of the phonebooth. "I'm on my way home, expect me in about two hours. Why don't we go somewhere for dinner tonight?"

"Just you and me?" She asked, voice hopeful.

"Just you and me." I reassured her. "We can have the neighbors watch the kids. C'mon, it'll be fun. Be ready when I get home."

"It'll still be early in the afternoon by the time you get here." She asked, confused. "Only two o'clock. Are you sure?"

"Well we don't have to go to dinner right away. We could-" I was stopped mid-sentence when a man dressed in a military uniform knocked on the glass, motioning for me to come with him. By the paleness of his face I could only guess it wasn't something I was going to enjoy. "A-actually, Win, something came up. I'll call you again when I'm on my way home."

"Is everything ok?"

"Fine, but this officer looks like he's going to puke." I noted, watching as the man worked hard to even out his breathing. "I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Be careful."

"Will. Love you." I hung up, not waiting for a response, and let the officer guide me to what appeared to be a new crime scene-the house was taped off, cars surrounded the area. A disheveled looking man left sitting in the front yard with his head in his hands. The husband, I guessed.

Maes was at the front door, waiting for me. "Mustang's headed back to Central already, body guards wouldn't let him stay any longer, Jean went with him. The killer's moved."

"To South City?" I asked, though I knew what the answer to that was. The thought made me feel nauseous, he was getting too close for comfort. I pulled on the gloves offered to me and looked to Maes. "We'll station guards here tonight. This is weird, though." I said, walking into the house. The immediate scent of iron filled my nose and I curled my lip in disgust. Traveling automatically to the bathroom laid the women in her bathtub, skull bashed open, and...chopped up. That's new. "This body is fresher than how we usually find them, it took place later than the other kills. They're usually killed around nine AM, like on a schedule...and in one piece...this isn't right. The husband is home. Unarmed. Are you sure it was our guy?" As I spoke I inspected the wounds on her head.

"M.O.'s the same." He said. "Bludgeoning, left in the tub."

"But chopped up."

Maes shrugged.

Without my kit I couldn't do much, but I could at least analyze the situation at hand. We traveled back into the kitchen. "...the impact wounds are a little too big for it to be the same weapon as last time...Unless he switched it back up..." I stood up, looking at the spatter on the walls, then to where the women lay, then back to the walls. "She...was standing here, maybe leaning against this counter, probably checking the mail." I nudged the envelopes on the floor with my foot. "He snuck up behind her..." I brought my arm up, reenacting the scene for Maes. "And hit her. Hard. Once so she fell..." I brought my arm down in a swinging motion. "...and second time for good measure." I stood up straight, thinking." What statement did her husband give?"

"Came home to this."

I furrowed my brow and turned without a word, heading outside. I approached the man in the front yard and asked if he could stand.

"Wh-why?" He asked, defensive.

"Please stand for me." I stated again, this time it was less of a question and more of a demand. "I need to see your shirt." As he stood I continued asking questions. "Where were you before you came home?"

"Lunch break from work." He replied flatly. I glanced up at him then back to his shirt.

"Where do you work?"

"Law firm, across town."

"What time did you get out of work?"

He was furious now, glaring at me with stone blue eyes. "I got out at eleven for lunch! It even says so on my timecard! You can't possibly blame me for this!"

I rolled my eyes. "Well I can tell you now that your wife hasn't been laying there that long, blood is very fresh." I glanced up at him. "It's about quarter after noon now, isn't it? Wouldn't take that long to drive here, bludgeon her, leave her in the tub, put on your face and call the police." I pulled at his shirt a little, leaning back to look at it. "There's blood-spatter on your shirt. Not a lot, but it's there." What about cutting her up?

"It's from when I found her-I held her! S-She's my wife, damn it! She was taken from me!"

"Spatter doesn't happen just by holding someone..." I mumbled.

While it did seem plausible that it was him, he probably didn't have time to cut her up, unless he's lying about when he got out? But how did the spatter get on him?

He seemed distressed now as an officer came out of the house, calling Hughes back inside to look at something-a word about a weapon. My eyes darted back to the husband. "You must not be very good at hide and seek if you can't hide a simple weapon, hm?" I stepped away from him as Hughes waved me into the house, motioning for the police to keep the man where he was.

"Found a weapon." He stated. "Monkey wrench."

"So he tried to copy our killers style to get away with it." I sighed, mostly in relief. So the killer hadn't made it to South City, he wasn't nearing my family. "Kinda defeats the purpose if you can't hide the fucking weapon." I shook my head and let Hughes take care of the rest of it, rubbing the back of my head. How uneventful.

Unfortunately now that meant that I had to run back to my car, drive to HQ to grab an extra kit, go all the way back to the scene and do my job. I wasn't going to take it all the way home only to return the next day, so I stayed and worked on the report in South HQ. I snapped the pictures I needed and left, using the same office I was in earlier to work. I wouldn't be able to test it out but I could get the basics down and hand it over to the experts here. I'd start it, they could finish it.

It took me all of two hours to examine the scene and write the damn thing and I was out the door again. I phoned Winry, promised I'd been home within two hours and set out, not allowing for anything else to stop me.

About an hour and a half in I rubbed my eyes, still not entirely awake. At this point it was probably a bad idea to have left my glasses at home but hey, I wasn't about to admit I needed them. As I drove down the road, passing through a neighboring city, I jolted up, gripping the steering wheel. I was fucking falling alseep. You're only half an hour from home, you can do it. I continued to tell myself this, over and over, a chant in my head, until that chant sounded more like a lullaby, and my eyes slipped closed again.

They opened again when I heard a honk-I sat up immediately and grabbed the wheel, skidding past another car as I drove into their lane by accident. I tried to steady the car back out and instead, of course, I made it worse. After that I wasn't sure what had happened, or how bad I was hurt, or how many times my car had rolled.

All I could hear was yelling, I was too tired to open my eyes. Blood rushed to my head as I hung upside down and that seemed to be the only thing I was sure of. Instead of staying awake to figure out I let myself drift to sleep, ignoring the pounding in my head.