Morning After

honorable Dissenter

Chapter One-Morning After

Ed woke up with his head on someone's chest. It wasn't that strange, after all, Al climbed into his bed when he had nightmares about their mother, nightmares that Ed had himself, though he had learned to cry silently, so as not to wake Alphonse. But he preferred to be left alone while he slept. Sharing a bed with his brother did get kind of annoying.

Ed meant to tell Al to get off his bed and stop being a big baby, but when he tried to open his eyes his mind went blank with pain. He had a roaring headache. He grimaced through it, and forced himself to open his eyes. It took a few minutes to try and focus.

He watched something shiny swim into focus, the sun glinting off of the intricate lines. He watched, fascinated, as the metal contraption finally became recognizable as an arm. His arm. That was right, his arm was automail now. Winry made it for him. His arm was automail because that night, they tried to bring her back, and his arm and leg, and Al...

Ed wasn't sure what he wanted to say as his befuddled brain raced and came to a halt simultaneously, but that didn't matter. It came out as a hoarse croak that caused the person he was sharing the bed with to stir and groan tiredly.

Ed sat up with a start, pain lancing his brain, and turned to see a man who was definitely not his brother staring back at him incredulously with the same look he probably wore. Colonel Roy Mustang sat up, the covers not covering his bare chest.

Ed looked around him, and noted Mustang doing the same. He had no idea where he was. Mustang didn't seem to be sharing that difficulty. He looked around, bemused at his surroundings.

This had to be some mistake. A nightmare, he thought. No, he would never have dreamed up this, not even in the darkest places he kept locked up in his mind. Those were reserved for his guilt, his pain...it had nothing to do with the colonel.

Mind whirling, he stumbled back to the edge of he bed, getting away. Anywhere else was better than here. Shedding the cover of the blanket, Ed realized sickeningly that the shirt he was wearing wasn't his own. It was much too large for him, practically covering his boxers...

He looked in silent horror back at the colonel. He looked to be rather the worse for wear, too. He scratched his head unconsciously, looking as shocked as Ed felt. Ed saw, to his comparative relief, that Mustang was wearing sweatpants.

His mind latched on to this fact, insisting that it was a good sign, if there could be anything good about this situation. Besides that, his brain refused to accept anything else it was being fed. Numbness was better than terror now. He could think through numbness, at least more so than he could if he simply accepted what his damn eyes were telling him.

The one thing his brain did accept from what his senses were telling it was that he had to get the hell away from here. The farther away, the better.

Ed spotted his clothes in a neatly folded pile on the floor. He grabbed them and ran.

Directly outside the room was a hallway, in which he awkwardly hopped into his pants. That led to a huge living room, huge windows to match looking out toward the road. He flung the oversized shirt over his shoulder and yanked his own shirt back over his head. Beside the farther window was the front door, where Ed's coat was hung, his boots on the floor beneath it. His coat hung beside a long black one, his boots beside another, larger pair. He tried not to think about who they belonged to.

He ran out the front door, not even bothering to slam it shut behind him. He glanced back over his shoulder. This had to be the colonel's house. Where else could it be?

Ed had been told about the colonel's house. He'd probably had it pointed out to him before, but he'd never really paid attention to any particulars about it, especially not the location. The Flame Alchemist was the last person Ed would ever consider visiting; it rarely occurred to him to visit people he actually liked.

Ed ran down the street, not something he was unaccustomed to. Central was so damn big, he didn't know where he was. So he ran, not knowing where he ran to, or even where he wanted to go. He knew where he wasn't going. Military Headquarters, the home of anyone he knew, his hotel room. He couldn't face being with anyone he knew, especially not from the military, but he couldn't stand being alone, either, he thought.

He hadn't been paying attention to where he was going, and was now into a more business-oriented part of town. Stores and restaurants lined the street. He stopped running. He was tired, he was out of breath, and ha had a raging headache. He stopped at a small café, and dropped down into a chair gratefully and ordered a coffee.

Luckily, his coffee was served quickly. It gave him something else to think about. His mind went involuntarily over the crap that his senses were force-feeding it. He woke up next to someone he despised. He couldn't remember how that had happened, so he discarded it for now. He couldn't remember why his head hurt so bad, either, but that's what the coffee was going to fix for him. He wanted to focus on the problem that had a solution. He wanted to not have had whatever had happened happen. He wanted to know what had happened. He didn't want to know what had happened. He really wanted to be somebody else right now.

But the coffee was good, and one problem was being solved. He figured he could only handle one problem at a time, so he sat back and let his mind go blank. Surprisingly soon, he discovered that the thoughts he was trying to block were popping into his brain less often, and after a little while he watched the movement of people on the boulevard without any unwanted thoughts interrupting him. He found himself almost enjoying watching shoppers and vendors go about their daily lives. It all just seemed so normal, so natural.

Once, a pair of soldiers passed, but neither was anyone Ed knew.

Slowly, Ed began to recognize his surroundings. That was the automail shop he had went to with Winry. And there, that was the pet shop. Al loved those dang kitties. Ed could have laughed. He was pretty sure he smiled. It was all just too much, really.

He looked around again, trying to remember where his hotel was. It should be, he looked down the street, that way. He would walk back to the hotel, a relatively short walk, especially compared to the run he'd just had. He'd walk in the front door. There would be cheerful people having normal days. No one would ask him any questions. He'd go to his room, be alone.

Ed sat there, drinking his coffee, feeling the warmth of the cup in his hands. It was a normal, comforting sort of feeling. He definitely needed something normal right now, even more than he needed something comforting. So he drank his coffee, and watched the people going about their daily lives.