"Alright, men!" Hughes announced. "We camp here!"

Ed surveyed the lakeside clearing, eyes sweeping over to take in everything. They had taken a train east to New Optain, and from there, hiked into the mountain ranges east of the city. The forest here was nothing special, as far as Ed could tell. There were tall trees, a thick carpet of leaves and pine needles over the floor, and a mountain lake that stretched out before them. It sort of reminded Ed of the island Izumi had dumped him and Al on just a few years ago.

Except for the additional company, that is.

"Now isn't this just great?" Hughes was asking, dropping his pack next to a boulder. "All this fresh air and sunshine, and a gorgeous lake! It doesn't get any better than this!"

Ed massaged a dull ache in his shoulder port and turned his gaze to the sky that was slowly starting to cloud over. "Until it rains," he muttered.

Mustang trudged up beside him, expression dark. "Of course it's going to rain," he muttered.

"Which will render you completely useless," Ed smirked.

Mustang scowled at him. He hadn't taken the news that Ed had agreed to the camping trip very well. If Havoc was to be believed, every trashcan in the office had mysteriously combusted moments after Hughes had called him with the news.

"But it's nice right now," Alphonse said, ever the optimistic one. Ed didn't bother to point out that Al could say that no matter what the weather. A little rain didn't bother him. Well, unless he rusted.

"Yes," Ed agreed. "Until it rains."

"Brother, don't be so negative," Al scolded.

Ed shut his mouth to better keep his mood to himself. He wasn't here to complain. He was here for Al, and he wasn't going to ruin his little brother's good time with his whining.

Well, with too much whining, anyways.

"Now, now, we don't have anything to worry about!" Hughes said, upturning his pack in the sand and undoing the clasps. "We just have to set up the tent, then we'll be completely safe from the elements!"

With a weary sigh, Ed set about unpacking supplies. He and Al pitched one of the tents while Mustang and Hughes secured their food stash and set up other necessities.

"Are you glad we came, Brother?"

Ed glanced up at his sibling as he drove another stake into the ground with his metal fist. Al wasn't looking at him, rather keeping his gaze trained on the rope he was tying down. Ed forced a smile to his face anyways. "Of course I'm glad, Al! Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he said quietly, voice ringing with guilt. "I made you come all the way out here after you got stabbed . . .I mean, doesn't it hurt?"

Why couldn't Al be selfish? Just once? "It's fine, Al. I've got those painkillers—"

"Which you won't take."

"—and besides," Ed said over him, "this is better than going back to Resembool. You know what Winry would do if she found out I got hurt . . . again."

The thought seemed to cheer Al the same way it filled Ed with dread. "She'd probably take a spanner to your head."

"The stupid gearhead. She's always so violent."

"Look who's talking."

"Shut up, Al."

He was suddenly aware of something flying past the corner of his vision. It was silver and thin and triggered a desperate fight-or-flight response in him that overrode any semblance of reason.

His left arm shot over his right, alchemizing a blade from the automail. He spun sharply, raising his weapon to intercept the projectile.

It bounced off harmlessly and landed in the sand.

Ed stared at it uncomprehendingly, his heart still racing and blood singing in his ears.

A . . . Frisbee?

"What . . .?" Ed asked, unable to tear his eyes from the disc at his feet.

Hughes regarded Ed as if he were a particularly slow child. "It's a Frisbee, Ed. You throw it."

The blond scowled. "I know it's a Frisbee! Why are you throwing it at me?!"

"Because it's a Frisbee . . ."

Ed let his glare respond for him.

"Well, I wouldn't have thrown it if I had known the incident would be so traumatizing," Hughes chortled. "Come on, Ed, throw it back!"

"Oh, I'm going to throw it back," Ed snarled, yanking it up from the dirt, hauling back and hurling it for all he was worth.

The toy scythed through the air like a throwing star, splicing air particles as it spun a dangerous arc for Hughes' head. The Lieutenant Colonel let out an undignified yelp and ducked, allowing the disc to skate on by.

And into Mustang's head.

"HA!" Ed crowed at the unexpected victory. "Take that, you lazy jerk!"

Al and Hughes took a slow, deliberate step back.

Mustang's expression was dangerously blank as he regarded the Frisbee at his feet. He stared at it for an uncomfortable amount of time, making Ed just a little bit nervous. He could feel a bead of sweat form and run down the side of his face.

"Fullmetal," Mustang said, voice as cool and level as if he were commenting on the weather. Nevertheless, Ed jumped. Dark eyes snapped up to meet his. "You have three seconds to run."

Ed didn't think twice.

He ran.


Roy slouched down in the sand, bruised and panting and tired.

Dead tired.

It was twilight now, light enough to see, but too dark to keep up their "game." The wind off the lake had picked up as well, carrying the dreaded scent of rain and assuring the campers that a mountain storm was on its way. The "game" of Frisbee had lasted the better part of an hour and consisted mostly of Roy and Ed trying to take off one another's heads, with Hughes and Al running interference.

If he were less bruised, he might even venture to say that it had all been fun.

Ed plopped down in the sand across from him, panting and chugging greedily from a canteen. He put the container aside and offered Roy a triumphant grin. "I won," he gloated, beaming as if he had achieved some kind of major feat.

"You had an unfair advantage," Roy huffed. "You're short enough to get under my defenses."

"I'M NOT SHORT!"

Roy smirked. He may have lost the game, but that didn't mean he had to accept defeat gracefully. Besides, Ed was a notorious cheater, and the whole event had been full of his trademark cheap shots. Most of those had been along the lines of alchemy, which Hughes had already declared illegal for the duration of their trip. The boy had played the game with vicious intensity, and with his usual scowl and bad temper (when he wasn't too busy rubbing in his small, victories, that is), but if Roy were willing to guess, he'd say the blond had had as much fun as any of them.

As Roy studied the boy across from him, he had the sudden realization that this was possibly the first time he had ever seen the Elrics act like kids.

Well, yes, Ed did tend to act like a childish brat when it suited him, but there was always something so heart achingly grown-up about him; a world-weary, cynical look in his eyes that reminded Roy of someone thrice his age. Somehow Al had retained a spark of childish wonder, but it seemed like the world had beaten it out of Ed.

But maybe not entirely. Maybe they had all just captured a glimpse of it . . .

"What are you staring at?" Ed growled, jerking Roy from his musings.

Roy covered for himself quickly, offering a sly smile. "Just thinking about the game and how effective, yet concise your strategy was."

"YOU'RE CALLING ME SHORT AGAIN, AREN'T YOU?!"

"Where's Alphonse?" Hughes panted, tromping over to sit with them around the designated fire pit.

Ed turned to favor him with his ill-tempered scowl. "He said that since he's the only one not out of breath, he's going to find firewood before it rains," he said, leaning back to lie in the sand. Roy watched as his real hand wandered up to massage his chest.

"Does it hurt?" Hughes asked, taking the words right out of Roy's mouth.

Ed frowned and quickly dropped his hand to the side. "No," he lied.

"Where are your painkillers?" Hughes asked.

"Why don't you mind your own business?"

"Take one," Roy said. If Ed had it his way, he'd be halfway dead before he took the pills. Roy could empathize with him; medication like that usually knocked him for a loop and made the day a fog, but it was stupid for Ed to be in pain when it could be prevented.

"It's none of your business if I take the stupid pills or not!" Ed howled.

"I can make it an order if you'd like," Roy offered smoothly.

Ed mustered up his best glare, which admittedly was rather impressive, and got to his feet. He made a show of grabbing the small bag he and Al shared, reaching inside and pulling out a prescription bottle. With enough force to crack the plastic, he wrenched the lid off with his automail and grudgingly fished a pill out and swallowed it dry. "You old coots happy now?" he demanded scathingly.

"Yep!" Hughes grinned.

"Thrilled," Roy assured him, letting the insult slide.

Alphonse appeared out of the forest, carrying a load of timber in his arms. "Got the firewood!" he called cheerily.

Roy noted that Ed was quick to hide the bottle from his little brother, planting an innocent look on his face as he did.

Al set about piling the wood on the sand. He stacked it like someone who had done this many times before, strategically placing each piece so that the whole thing would combust easily.

Roy pulled an ignition glove out of his pocket and started tugging it onto his hand.

"Oh no you don't!" Maes said, snatching it away before Roy could stop him.

Roy blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"No alchemy, remember?" Hughes sing-songed, stuffing the glove into his pocket. "I didn't invite you guys here for a freak show."

Roy glared at him. "Then how do you suggest we start a fire?"

"The old fashioned way, of course!" he said, plucking two sticks off the ground and waving them in Roy's face.

Roy regarded him as if he were the lowest intellectual life form on the planet. "You're joking. You didn't bring matches?!"

"Of course not!" he said, shoving the sticks into hands. "Since you're handy with fire, you can start it."

"Better hurry," Ed snickered. "It's going to rain, and we all know how much good you'll be to us then."

Roy swallowed the deep desire to spill blood and slid closer to the firewood. How hard could it be? He had never started a fire in this manner before, but he had an intimate knowledge of the art form. It shouldn't be all that difficult, right?

He felt everyone's eyes on him as he started rubbing the sticks together vigorously. After several minutes though, his arms were tired, the wood hadn't so much as smoked, and Ed was trying vainly to stifle his laughter.

Roy's temper reached the breaking point. He spun to face Ed, waving the sticks with vehemence. "Do you want to do it?!"

Ed choked back his laughter and surprised him by taking the proffered limbs. He scooted up across from Roy and pulled out a pocket knife and got to work. Roy and Hughes watched curiously as he selected a flatter piece of wood from the pile and started making notches in it. Al moved to join him, gathering some wood shavings and nesting them together. Ed placed his plank of timber on the shreds, then grabbed a longer limb and removed a shoelace, making a sort of bow.

"I get the feeling they've done this before," Hughes commented to Roy.

"Looks like it . . ." Roy murmured.

Ed placed a stick in a depression of the flatter plank, anchoring it with a stone, then wrapped his bow around it and put a foot down on the plank. He then began sawing vigorously.

Almost immediately it began to smoke, but Ed didn't stop. He kept going until it became a smolder, and moments later, he had a collection of glowing embers.

Al took the pile of shavings in his gentle hands and held it before Ed to exhale gently on it. The shavings suddenly burst to life, illuminating their faces and making it obvious just how dark it had become.

In moments, they had a happily roaring campfire. Ed rocked back on his heels, dusting off his gloves and looking at Roy smugly.

"Well I'll be," Roy mused. "It seems you can be useful for something other than destruction after all."

"And you're still good for nothing," Ed reminded sweetly, just as the first few drops of rain started falling. He scowled up at the sky. "Come on, Al. Let's get the other tent set up."

"Um, there's only one tent," Hughes said quickly.

Ed turned to regard the only standing tent with disbelief, then turned back to Hughes. "There's no way we're all going to fit in that!"

Hughes looked sheepish. "Uh, well, I had thought we would sleep outside," he said through the steadily increasing drizzle. "The tent was more of a back-up plan, in case it rained."

"There's barely enough room for three people! There are four of us! What kind of back-up plan is that?!"

"It's okay, Brother!" Al said, quick to smooth over the situation. "I can stay outside. The rain won't bother me, and I can keep the fire going."

Ed did not look happy with the circumstances at all, but after more reassurance from Al (and, Roy suspected, the haze of painkillers kicking in) he relented. After saying their goodnights, Hughes, Ed and Roy spread their bedrolls out as best they could in the small confines of the tent. Roy was crammed between Hughes and the tent wall, with Ed lying crossways above them, resting his head inches from Roy's own.

It was cramped and uncomfortable, but as the rain started to pick up outside and the wind whipped the fabric around, Roy was thankful to be warm and dry.

"This tent is pretty small," Roy mused aloud as Ed settled in above his head. "It's a good thing you're so compact, Fullmetal, or we wouldn't all fit."

"Shut your trap, Mustang," Ed growled sleepily, kicking off his boots and curling up under his military issued bedroll. "If you snore, I'm planting my automail fist in your mouth."

And on that sweet note, amidst the wind and the steady fall of rain, Roy drifted off to sleep.


After several hours of tossing and turning, Ed sat up groggily and rubbed his eyes with a flesh hand. He hated painkillers. They made him so tired, but made sleep so impossible. They did help make the stab wound in his chest and even the weather-induced pains in his automail cease their throbbing, though. He guessed that was something.

But something else also made it difficult to sleep; he couldn't stop thinking of Al outside, all by himself.

Despite the daunting thought of rain and cold, Ed threw back the material of his sleeping bag, tugged his boots and coat on and quietly tiptoed past his tent-mates. He was sure that Mustang and Hughes both stirred, but apparently they classified the whisper of his passage as "not a threat" and went back to sleep.

Ed pulled the flap back and stepped out into the rain, shivering as it quickly drenched him to the bone. The lakeside had been reduced to puddles and mud; small rivulets cut through the sand, making footing tricky, and the only sound Ed could hear was the splashing of rainfall on the lake, accompanied by the quiet, faraway rumble of thunder that reverberated through the mountains.

It was almost soothing enough to make him want to try to sleep again. That, or just cold and wet enough to make him want to retreat back inside and curl up under his warm sleeping bag.

The fire was still going strong, hissing and spitting defiantly at the rain that managed to seep past the rock overhang Al had transmuted over it (without Hughes' knowledge, of course). Ed found Al under a similar structure and quickly dove under its protection, grimacing at the mud that collected on his pant legs in the process.

Al jumped in surprise. "Brother! What are you doing out here?!"

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Ed demanded, shivering violently and scooting next to sit to Al's fire-heated armor. "Getting warm."

"After getting soaked!" Al accused.

Ed ignored him, busying himself with his attempts to dry out. "Nice weather we're having," he said nonchalantly.

Al sighed. "I'm sorry, Brother. This isn't turning out like I hoped it would."

Ed frowned. "You had fun earlier, right? Then what's the problem?"

"Well, you don't look like you're having a good time . . ."

"No one looks like they're having a good time when they're drenched," Ed pointed out, wringing water from his braid.

Al made an amused sound. "Guess that's a good point."

They sat there in companionable silence for a while, just listening to the rain and enjoying each other's company. It reminded Ed of being back on the island and the many nights him and Al had spent together, alone but for each other and the sky above.

"Brother?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you . . . do you think we're ever going to find the Stone?"

Ed felt a tight clenching in his stomach. There it was, then.

It was his fault, after all.

You deserve this.

"Brother?" Al asked, worry seeping into his voice.

Ed drew his legs up to his chest, resting his forehead on the flesh one. "Of course we will," he said, his voice soft. "I promised you. I know I screwed it up this time, but not again."

"It wasn't your fault, Brother—"

Ed ignored him. "I'll do whatever it takes to get you your body back, Al. Anything."

"Well, not anything . . ." Al corrected uneasily.

But Ed meant it. He would do anything for Al. He'd do anything to see him smile again, to watch him eat apple pie and sleep at night and to walk around like a normal kid and be happy.

Anything.

Al shifted anxiously beside him. "Brother, you know you're more important to me than my body, right?"

Slowly, Ed raised his head and gave his little brother what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "And you're more important to me than anything else. That's why I'm going to get your body back."

No matter what Al said, it was all up to him. It was all on his shoulders. He was the one that screwed up. He was the one that made the choice to bring their mother back. He was the one that only gave a leg, when Al had to give up everything.

Besides, Al couldn't do all that was necessary. He was too pure, too unblemished for the darker side of things Ed would have to deal with.

But Ed, he was tainted. He was a sinner, a monster and he would go all the way so that Al wouldn't have to.

He owed Al his life and more. There had to be some kind of Equal Exchange for him in there somewhere.

The lightning grew steadily closer, flashing across the sky and sending thunder to echo from the mountains, but the rain finally lightened and Ed was once again able to find some measure of peace with Al by his side, at least until the dawn.

Because that was when everything started to fall apart.


Almost a cliffy . . . yet not really lol. Anyways, tough chapter to write . I don't know why. The proper way of making a campfire is complimentary of watching too much SurvivorMan on Discovery channel lol.

I'm so tired, I've stopped making sense lol.

Also, a shout out to the unsigned reviewers that I can't message to thank; thanks for your encouragement! I really appreciate your support :) And thanks to everyone that faved/is following this! Everyone's positive feedback is really helping me write this puppy ;)

So I'm going on vacation for a week (leaving in a couple of days) and the next chapter will be a little late. As such, I have a deleted scene for you in attempts to atone for it xD Hope you enjoy!

Drop a review, if you'd like! As always, I love hearing from all of you guys :)

God Bless,

-RainFlame


Deleted Scene


He would not kill Hughes.

He would not kill Hughes.

He would not kill Hughes.

This had been Roy's mantra for the past two hours of the car ride. The past two hours of Hughes singing children's songs at the top of his lungs in the most off-key manner imaginable.

Due to his extensive military career, and the self-control and discipline such a lifestyle had instilled in him, Roy had the necessary restraint to not horribly maim his best friend.

Ed, however, had no such inhibitions.

Ed's mood that morning had been almost, well, pleasant. He had seemed cheery enough, trading their usual insults and going the extra mile when he noticed Roy himself was not in a good mood after discovering he had been roped into the ridiculous camping trip.

Once they boarded the train for the East, though, Roy noticed the blond's disposition souring, turning even worse than his own. He became snappish and overall quite irritable, especially when not addressing Alphonse. Roy wondered if it had something to do with his wound bothering him. He had only been out of the hospital three days, and he was by no means healed yet.

But as they got off the train and piled into the rented car, Hughes had started to sing, and Ed's mood became downright hostile. Roy spent the past hour watching a vein throb in Ed's head, and his automail fist slowly clenching around the armrest in the door, tighter and tighter until the rest was a crumpled mess, and the automail issued a whine of protest.

Really, he lasted longer than Roy thought he would.

He snapped, rather spectacularly Roy might add, just as Hughes was launching into his third verse of "The Wheels on the Bus."

" LIEUTENANT COLONEL MAES HUGHES!" he roared, completely dislodging the armrest with a sharp rip. The vehicle swerved as Maes flinched violently and once corrected, the car went silent. "If I hear one more lyric out of you for the rest of this trip, I will grace you with a complimentary head piercing with my fist!"

The rest of the ride was silent.

Roy reminded himself to pass on his gratitude later, when there was less risk of a violent death.