"Hey!" a voice called. I forced my eyes back open, but my left eye wouldn't open all the way. It's swollen, I realized dimly. This brought no panic as it would have a little while ago. I was apathetic. Well, given the choice, of course, I would have chosen life. But at the moment, I didn't care. Let them come.
"Hey!" the voice called again. It sounded closer, and I could hear grass crunching beneath boots.
"Ed?!" ...Shock? How did they know my name? No, HE. HE knew my name. And then, some part of my subconscious clicked.
"Roy...?" I croaked. Roy was leaning over me, and he rolled me onto my back. "Aanh!" I moaned, squirming weakly against the pain. Roy pulled his hands back immediately. Pain shot up my spin like poison-darted arrows, searing each burn.
"I can't touch you..." I heard Roy mumble. Yeah no crap, genius! I thought angrily, but even my mental temper got reigned in. Don't be mad, I told myself. He didn't know. It's dark, I'm not by the fire. He can't see my burns. Judging by the low groan of what I took as disgust, I guessed Roy's eyes were adjusting.
"Water..." I mumbled through chapped lips. My tongue practically stuck to the roof of my mouth. I turned my head a little to see him fumble in his coat pocket. I felt a rush of relief when he pulled out a canteen. I don't think I had ever been so thankful that he was always prepared for the worst. He carefully pushed the opening to my lips, but I was no baby. Masking the pain, I swiftly brought up my arms and tilted it up so the water flooded my mouth.
I swallowed, thinking for a moment that water was the best tasting substance on the planet. No, a voice in the back of my head corrected me. Strudel. Freshly baked apple strudel was the best. Man, I'm hungry...My heart ached at the thought of how Al and I used to always buy strudel on Saturdays and I'd eat while I watched him tinker with his mechanical stuff. I wasn't particularly interested in that kind of stuff, but something about it always drew me to watching...
I snapped myself from my thoughts and pulled the bottle away, feeling a little sheepish when I handed it back to Roy; I had drank at least half. But now, instead of feeling more energized and awake, I felt hollow and exhausted. My arms, legs, and damn near everything throbbed dully, and my back still stung like hornets had nested on it.
I looked up at my friend, not saying a word, just silently asking him to let me sleep. To my dismay, he shook his head. My eyes narrowed into a glare. That's no fair! I wanted to shout. No fair! No fair at all! Alfonse told me that it's when you're cold that you can't sleep! Please! Please, Roy...My eyes watered a little out of desperation, but if anyone ever asks, the smoke got in my eyes.
Roy looked as worried as me, which is odd since he's usually so calm. Somehow, it was unnerving to see. Yes, unnerving was the word. This whole experience was unnerving for both of us. "Bear with me," Roy muttered, drawing my attention again. One of his hands went under my head, one under my legs. He hoisted me up and I howled in pain, almost sobbing as my broken legs shifted. Guess he hadn't been able to see that either.
"Sorry!" he apologized hastily. I clamped my eyes shut and leaned my head against his chest for support.
"Just don't...do it again..." I whispered hoarsely.
Every step Roy took was agony. My legs would bump against his arm, and my back would shift slightly against his arms. Even such small touches made me whimper in pain and clutch his jacket tighter. They say that sometimes when you're in a lot of pain, you go numb. You have no idea how hard I prayed for it to happen to me.
And after a while...I think it did happen. The walk became less painful for me and I relaxed more. It was like being injected with a dose of morphine. I just felt...mellow. Mellow and numb. And as this content numbness spread through me, I also felt the strong urge to sleep again. I looked up at Roy, barely able to keep my eyes open, then shut my eyes, leaning my head against his chest again. I felt Roy's grip on me tighten a little, but this time I didn't wince. "Please make it..." he murmured. That's the goal, pal. That's the goal. And as that thought slipped away, so did I, and I prayed that the realm of dreams would bring me more peace than the panic and destruction going on around me.