I was suddenly inspired to write upon seeing that I had more reviews. Whoa ho ho. Totally awesome. (The Cap'n luffs reviews more life itself. O.O It gives me something to look forward to after seven hours at school.) So here's a one-shot for you. Expect more. :D

Author's Notes:

I've decided to make this into a series of one-shots. Why? Because I happen to like one-shots, and it seems that's all I have time to write lately. (AP Classes are NOT FUN. D:) Also, I don't want to make a new story thingie for every single one-shot I write. So I'll just add on to this one. Look for more, right here, coming soon.

I'm changing the name of this fic to better reflect this one-shot, but I don't think I'll change the name again. Shattered is probably going to be fitting anyway, because most of what I write is PURE EDO ANGST. :sigh: I luff Edo angst. I'll change the summary for every one-shot though.

WARNING: There be spoilers for episode 51 ahead. Yar.

Enjoy!


There was something fundamentally wrong in the look that his son was giving him. He couldn't quite interpret it, because he had never been good with emotions, and he didn't imagine he ever would be, but he knew that there was hurt in that gaze that penetrated so many levels of the young man's soul, and he knew that he simply couldn't let his son's suffering go falsely unnoticed any longer. He had noticed. He had seen that look too many times, and had not done anything about it. Hohenheim decided then, with a firm unwavering resolve, that he would drop the emotionless shield that he had erected around himself years ago to protect himself from the relentless cruelty of the world. Edward needed someone right now. Desperately.

Hohenheim had never been good with emotions, and he didn't imagine he ever would be, but he took the quivering boy in his arms nonetheless, just like he had before the boy – his boy – had been to hell and back again, before he had seen the horrors of death and tasted the bitterness of fresh blood.

He could faintly hear the sirens blaring from somewhere in the streets and could hardly see the harsh lines of his son's face through the thin film of smoke drifting in through the cracked window. Outside, conditions were getting worse.

"Edward," he soothed, his voice barely audible through the warmth of Ed's shoulder. "We need to evacuate London. It's not safe here. Please, just cooperate with me." Now he was pleading, and as much as he hated to sound desperate around his already vulnerable son, they needed to leave for Munich. He simply couldn't grant Edward any more time to recover.

A pained sob caught in Edward's throat, and Hohenheim pulled him closer. It was a reflection of his son's weakened state that he didn't wrench away from his father's embrace as he had so many times before. But, Edward reflected, everything hurt more on this side of the gate, and the empty sockets of his right arm and left leg had never seemed so crippling as they did now. Now, they weren't gleaming with metal, rather, they were shining through the darkness with fresh, dull, red blood – more dull, Edward noted, than it would have been on his side of the gate, like everything in this strange world – and they pained him every waking moment of his new life. He opted for the less painful alternative, and let his father comfort him. The warmth felt good on his aching joints anyway.

"Please, Edward. I know you're still sick, and I know you're still in pain, but I need you to work with me if you want to live to see your brother again. Isn't that what you want?" Edward's next intake of breath burned in his chest, and the lump he attempted to swallow stuck in his throat, making it impossible to retaliate even if he had wanted to. No. He simply didn't have the strength anymore; that was what he really wanted, after all. Instead, he whimpered pathetically and earned a sympathetic expression in response.

Hohenheim untangled himself from his son's unresponsive form and made his way across the room to the small closet they now shared. He pulled from it a dirty old coat, musty and smelling of old mothballs, before making his way back to Edward's bed.

"You're not helping me, Edward." Ever the stubborn one, Edward slumped against the headboard as the old man approached him with the unwanted article of clothing, the action punctuated by the shrill cry of an explosive hurtling toward Earth, and then an explosion somewhere on the outskirts of the city. They were coming closer. Hohenheim tried again to wrestle his son into the musty old coat, but was met by more of the same infuriatingly unresponsive behavior. "Edward! If you don't put on the coat, you'll be sick again! I'm going to carry you out of this apartment with or without it! What's it going to be?"

Carry him? The very idea! The sheer indignity was mind-numbingly repulsive. Edward Elric would not be carried anywhere.

"No..." His voice wavered, and his vocal cords screamed in protest of every word. It had been weeks since he'd last spoken, and that was only to tell his bastard father that he wanted out of the goddamn hospital. "I need time. Gimme more time." A look of surprise flashed across his father's face due to Edward's suddenly alert behavior.

"Edward..." And he tried to smother his son in another embrace.

"No, godammit!" One arm, trembling, weak, pale, and thin, desperately shoved Hohenheim back. It had little effect, but Hohenheim knew when he needed to back down and give the too-small boy some breathing room. He hovered silently at the end of the bed for a moment, watching Edward pant with exertion from the seemingly small effort.

"Edward. You're missing a leg. You can't very well walk out yourself." He stated bluntly. The remark ripped through Ed, and he looked down at the collapse in the bed sheets where the leg Alphonse has given up his very life for should have been. It wasn't, and he had known it wouldn't be, but it still set his heart afire to see it for himself again, to think back to the painful day where he had lost everything again, and break into shuddering sobs again so near to the man he hated most.

Edward let the coat fall onto his shoulders this time. The warmth was welcoming, and the collar hid his swollen red eyes – for the most part. The fact that Edward was positively swimming in the jacket put the already worried father in near hysterics. Edward shouldn't be so thin, he shouldn't be so small, and he shouldn't be crying. Hell, if he was going to get into specifics here, Edward shouldn't be on this side of the gate, and he himself shouldn't be a goddamn father; he just wasn't cut out for this kind of thing. But that was just the way things worked out sometimes. Who was he to challenge God?

Well...bad question.

Hohenheim had already challenged God too many times in his lengthy life, and he didn't need this on his record as well.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't doomed to the deepest circle of hell just yet.

Hohenheim then scooped his son into his arms, heavy quilt and all. He was tediously careful of the vacant arm and leg stump on either side of the prone form, and moved slowly through the small room and into the shabby, dim living room of his...no...their run-down apartment.

"Do you need a hat, Edward?" The boy scowled and shook his head as vigorously as he was able while being gently placed on the living room sofa. "I'll get you one anyway. Just in case." Another boom from the war raging outside shook the apartment and sent a fragile dinner plate tumbling from its tedious perch atop a counter to shatter on the linoleum floor below.

"I...I'll get your shoes." Hohenheim briskly strode from the room.

"There's only one goddamn shoe, bastard." Edward mumbled halfheartedly as he watched his father's retreating form.

He listened to the shuffling from the other room, the muffled cursing, and eventually, the call of triumph when Hohenheim found what he had been looking for in the tangled mess that was Edward's drawers. (His father had bought out every clothing store in the city in the past three weeks. He insisted that he wanted Edward to be prepared for the winter. Edward knew the truth though. That bastard was trying to make up for lost time, or to repent, or gain Ed's favor...or...something. Whatever the hell it was, it didn't work.) He turned his gaze to the broken fragments of the fine china instead, and reflected sadly that they had broken his favorite plate. If he had his arm and leg again...

He was broken out of his reverie as his sole foot was jammed into an uncomfortable boot and laced up unnecessarily tightly. He opened his mouth to tell that asshole to shove off, but only a cough escaped him, and before long, he was doubled over, tears in his eyes, all his remaining energy devoted to trying to make the dry, painful cough stop. A glass of water was forced to his lips just as a hat was forced onto his head. He drank deeply, and once he was through, shoved the glass out of the old man's hand and onto the floor where it joined the broken plate in a shattered heap.

"Do you mind?" Hohenheim smiled tiredly down at him. "I wa–" There was a rough, calloused hand over his mouth before he got the thought out.

"Shh...Edward, do you hear that?" He didn't hear anything. And that was the disturbing part. He didn't hear anything. A thick silence had settled over the war-torn city, and it was unsettling, to say the very least.

"Yeah..."

"We need to leave." Edward nodded distractedly and looked again at the broken dishes on the floor.

Shattered...

Hohenheim gathered his too-light son into his own strong arms again, and left the quaint

apartment that had been his son's home away from home, his only comfort for the past month, without ever looking back.

They were later seen, a father with a broken son to his chest, making their way slowly through the rubble that lined the once-bustling streets of London. That night, Edward's home was burned to the ground for the second time in his life – only this time, he simply didn't have the energy to care.


...Well! I know there really wasn't much point to it, but I really like Hoho-papa. He makes me happy because he has just about the coolest character design in an anime EVER. And Edo with Paternal!Hoho-papa just makes me...well...REALLY HAPPY. Anyone read any good ones lately? Point me in the right direction. :D Thanks for reading, and please review. Tell me about my writing...because I'm concerned about that more than anything else. I think it's improving, but I might be a bit biased. ;D