It seems I forgot to mention this story is a bit AU ^_^;; Here's the background:

-Al got his body back when he was fifteen after the fight with Father, and Ed lost his arm again instead of his alchemy.

-This story is set roughly two years after the ending of the manga. Ed is eighteen, Al is seventeen, in his seventeen-year-old body.

Disclaimer~

Chapter Three - Roy Mustang

Two days later

Slam. "Roy!"

Make that the third time this week.

"Yes, Hughes?" Roy sighed. There were so many distractions lately, and time was taking its toll on his ever-growing stack of paperwork.

Alas, it looked like the steady stream of distractions wasn't going to slow down anytime soon, so Roy set aside his yet-to-be uncapped pen and turned his full attention to the man leaning against his doorframe, breathing heavily.

Roy guessed it must be something of the utmost importance for Hughes to have come running all the way to his office himself instead of sending someone else like he usually did.

"It's Edward!" Hughes gasped, still fighting to regain his breath.

Roy sat up slightly straighter. "What about Fullmetal?"

Hughes was grinning like a maniac - always a good sign. "He's here, Roy!"

Roy's serious façade cracked to let in a warm smile. "Where I he?" he asked excitedly, reminding himself of Alphonse.

"The lobby." If Roy didn't know better, he would have sworn Hughes was giggling.

Roy smirked, his eyes ablaze. "I'll be right there." With that, he stood up and strode out of his office, not bothering to tidy his desk, tuck in Havoc's stray chair or close the door behind him. He even forgot to salute to Brigadier General Brooks as she passed by. She just chuckled exasperatedly, knowing nothing could stop him when he was like this.

Apparently, Roy's good mood was contagious, because every officer, soldier or grunt he happened to pass in the corridor left with a smile a few inches wider than the one they had worn before. Within the five minutes it took Roy to rush to the front lobby, the entire building was ablaze with new of Edward's return.

"I presume you're here to see Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric, sir?" the woman at the desk asked him with a wry smile.

"Yes." Roy smiled back.

"He's waiting in Room 101. We had to shift him out of the public eye. I'm sure you can understand, sir."

"I can indeed," he glanced at her nametag, "Thorpe."

She smiled, gesturing down a well-lit, stark white corridor that he assumed led the way to Room 101.

Roy nodded his thanks before briskly turning around, his military cape swirling in the wake of his graceful strides.

He stopped abruptly in front of a plain wooden door. The only thing that made this door particularly special was the '101' engraved on the front just below Roy's eye level. He gulped - what if Fullmetal's condition was really and truly terrible? What if he hated and blamed Roy for not getting away from the grenade himself? What if-

Roy slammed the door open.

At first, Roy thought it was the sudden explosion of sound that destroyed all evidence of a brain cell in his head. When he looked closer, however, he realised his mind had barely even registered the sound.

He was- well, there wasn't a word for it. Gob-smacked? Overjoyed? Terrified? All seemed suitable.

"F... Fullmetal?"

Edward was sitting hunched over on a sterilized chair. He seemed to be wearing nothing but his boxers, and there was a thick, white cotton sheet enveloping him that Roy was sure he'd stolen from the hospital wing. His hair was let down and hung partially over his face, and reached somewhere near his waist. His cheeks were sunken and he seemed to be nothing but skin and bone. Skin and bone and scars.

"My god... What on earth happened to you?" Roy whispered.

Ed grinned weakly. "Some bad shit."

Roy's face paled further at the gravelly voice falling limply out of Edward's mouth.

Ed scrunched up his face. "Don't look at me like that, bastard."

Roy breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth twice, partially regaining some of his senses. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alive, I guess. Does that count?"

Ed smirked at the Colonel's clear exasperation. Oh how he had missed this.

Roy let out a shaky laugh, daring to step closer to the shivering figure. "Have you been to the hospital?"

Ed scowled. "... Don' wanna."

"Fullmetal." Roy switched to stern mode, and glared at Edward, his voice harsh.

"But it doesn't even hurt that mu-Ow!" Ed began to protest, but was cut off by a dog-like yelp as Roy picked him up and began to drag him across the floor by his left arm.

"You're coming to the hospital with me. Now."

"Ow! Okay, okay, I'm coming!" Ed yelled, and Roy let go. "I fuckin' hate you," Ed grumbled under his breath as he wrapped the sheet tighter around himself.

Roy smirked. "Glad to know your spirit hasn't been dampened by your latest 'adventure', Fullmetal."

"... Shut up."

Roy chuckled in front of him, and Ed couldn't help but show a small smirk of his own.

"Holy mother of crap!" the nurse shrieked as soon as she saw Ed standing in front of her. By the look on her face, Roy guessed she'd neither heard of Edward's return or his physical condition. To be honest, Roy hadn't even seen the worst of Fullmetal's condition himself yet - Ed had been all wrapped up in that sheet, from neck to knee.

That's why Roy had to physically restrain himself from gagging when the nurse brusquely tugged the sheet off him.

The scars, the slashes, the wounds, the bullet-holes... the half-healed broken bones. The missing flesh. The infected skin. The slowly rotting left eye.

It was all too much, even for Roy.

So it was no wonder the nurse turned a ghastly shade of white and her hands were shaking so much she could barely help Ed onto the bed.

"Here," Roy rasped, his voice suddenly lost among his jumbled thoughts. "I'll help."

He half-lifted Ed onto the clean hospital bed, earning him an irritated 'I can do it myself, bastard' and a weak kick in the shin.

He took the needle as the nurse's shaking hands prevented her from preparing it, and quickly attached the IV. He may not have been a trained doctor, but he had been taught this much before Ishbal, at least.

Ed growled. "I hate this thing."

Roy pursed his lips. "I know, Fullmetal, but it's necessary." Roy looked Ed up and down, before asking wearily, "How long has it been since you last ate something?"

Ed shrugged.

"That's not very helpful."

Ed rolled his eyes. "I dunno - a day or two. Maybe three."

Roy's eyes widened. "How often have you been eating for the past nine months?" he breathed.

"Every three days," Ed stated nonchalantly.

"God, Fullmetal." Roy almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. "I'll get you as much food as I can get my hands on, and then you're going to explain to me exactly how you ended up in that state," Roy said firmly. It wasn't a question.

Ed sighed. "Sure, sure. Whatever. Just get me some food." He grinned.

It was Roy's turn to roll his eyes. "Don't try to run away while I'm gone, Fullmetal."

Ed chuckled. "Can't be bothered, anyway."

Roy sighed, and Ed laughed a bit louder as the Colonel almost tripped over a stray upturned chair on his way out.

"Where's the sedative?"

"Liz, I need that sedative!"

"Why? I'm not one really one for fighting..."

"Why do you need it? She seems docile enough, Nathan."

"She's refusing to take her medicine."

"Again?"

"Yes, again! I need to knock her out so I can make her swallow them."

"All right, all right, Sally. I'm sure it was around here somewhere..."

"... I am here, you know..."

"Hurry up!"

"I know, I know! I swear I put it in the second drawer, but I think Mandy took it. Damn."

"You could always just use 'accio'."

"What?"

"'Accio', silly. It's a spell used to find things."

"... Hurry, up, Liz. I think she's getting worse."

"Sho," Ed asked as he stuffed as much of the ready-made sandwich as he could into his mouth, "Whachu wanna know?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," the nurse commented.

Ed stuck his crumb- and bacon-covered tongue out at her. She turned away in disgust.

"Details, Fullmetal. Exactly how you ended up with all those injuries, and why you weigh five stone nine."

At Ed's incredulous expression, Roy admitted, "Well, not the gory details."

Ed swallowed the lump of cold bacon sandwich. "Well, my eye," Ed gestured to the gauze wrapped haphazardly around his head (Roy had never been that good at bandaging wounds), "was from some knife or something that he stuck there-"

"He?"

"Yes, 'he'," Ed deadpanned, mildly irritated. "The Madman."

"Who's the 'Madman'?" Roy asked, an uncomfortable sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Uh... That's a hard question to answer."

"Try your best."

Ed groaned like a six-year-old. "Well, he's the one who kidnapped me after-"

"Kidnapped?" Roy's tone was rising in pitch with every interruption.

Ed gave him a slightly odd, guilty look. "Uh, yeah. I guess you weren't told about that." Ed shifted his gaze somewhere else, suddenly interested in the pristine white cabinets lining the walls.

Roy put his face in his hands. "All right," he sighed. "Explain from the beginning."

"... No way."

Ed sniggered. "Is everybody going to react like this? 'Cause if they are, I'm gonna have a damn good time freaking everybody out."

"This isn't a laughing matter, Fullmetal!" Roy shouted, though his subordinate seemed unaffected.

"Yeah, yeah. That's what Ross said, too. But seriously, can no one just move on? It's in the past - I'm here now, and I'm alive and recovering."

Roy gritted his teeth. "That man must be tracked down and arrested, Fullmetal, if he isn't executed."

Ed contemplated this. "I guess so. But can that wait until I'm well enough to fight him, at least? I know I'd get a real kick out of punching that crazy face of his in."

Roy sighed again. This was really, annoyingly similar to dealing with Elysia when Hughes was away. "I suppose so. But I can only put it off for so long, Fullmetal, so you'd better get healthy quick."

Ed smirked. "What do you take me for, Colonel?"

At that moment, there was a deafening crash, and before either of the military men could even so much as blink, there was a strong but slender hand gripping the front of Edward's hospital gown, and there were two sea-blue eyes sobbing into his shoulder. "You idiot!" a feminine voice screamed into the fabric.

"W-Winry?" Ed asked dumbly.

"Ed, you bloody idiot! Were you really stupid enough to first run straight into a bomb and then get yourself kidnapped and tortured?"

The devastated expression on Winry's crying face silenced any words that might have possibly come from Ed's mouth.

"Please tell me it isn't true," she whispered.

Ed's face mirrored Winry's as he pulled her into a bony hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered back, barely audible over the heart monitor.

"You idiot," Winry sobbed into his back, crying even more when her hands met the bumps of his spine instead of the strong muscles she had grown accustomed to.

Winry suddenly drew back, gripping Ed tightly by the upper arms, seemingly inspecting every inch of him, before her eyes settled on his automail. "You'll need a completely new arm and leg, by the looks of it," she murmured quietly, trying and failing rather miserably to regain her composure.

Ed looked down. "Huh."

There was a short pause.

"Your automail is really the best, Winry," Ed mumbled, a small smile on his face. "It's still working, even in this state." He laughed slightly, though it did nothing to help lift the heavy atmosphere in the small, white room.

Winry smiled too. She whispered, "Of course. Why would you expect anything less?"

Roy felt incredibly uncomfortable. After a moment, he cleared his throat quietly, drawing the attention of the two best friends still currently in the room. He'd noticed the snobby nurse stomp out the door in a huff as soon as Winry had come barging in earlier. "How long will it take to make a new arm and leg, Miss Rockbell?" Roy asked politely.

Winry scrunched her nose in concentration. "Well... That's a simple question with a complicated answer, Mr. Mustang. I'd say three days for the new arm and leg, usually, but with Ed's... slighter frame, he's going to need a whole new set, like nothing I've ever made before. I've never had to make automail for someone so thin before," she laughed weakly. "So, I'd say a week for the actual arm and leg. Then... well, I'm going to have to adjust the ports on his shoulder and thigh, too."

Ed winced.

"The surgery will take a day, and the recovery afterwards will take a couple of weeks. You see, Mr. Mustang, his body at the moment is too weak to support the old ports, and you can see here," Winry tugged down the gown to reveal Ed's right shoulder, "that his mass has shrunk, and the automail ports are currently far too large for his frame. The skin is being pulled and stretched too much, and I'm surprised the skin hasn't been torn or the automail yanked off by its own weight." Her business face softened slightly. "It must hurt a lot."

Ed grinned meekly. "Not really, actually. My nervous system's almost completely shut down. I can hardly feel a thing," he chuckled slightly.

Winry blinked. "In which case, it's going to be a bit of a problem, Mr. Mustang, because he'll need his nerves in perfect working order before I can adjust the ports, otherwise he won't be able to move the limbs properly."

Roy nodded. "So how long are we looking at altogether?"

"I'd say... roughly three weeks, plus however long it takes for his nerves to work again."

Roy nodded again, grimly. "I'll make sure Fuhrer Grumman is aware. Thank you for your help, Miss Rockbell."

Winry shook her head. "Oh no, Mr. Mustang. I'm simply performing my duty as a good automail mechanic." She giggled.

Roy smiled warmly at her as she left. "I'm sure I can find you a place to stay while you're here, Miss Rockbell."

Winry began to object, but Roy cut her off. "It's the least I can do."

Winry gave up and grinned back at Roy before shutting the door quietly behind her.

Ed let out a deep breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "She looks so... different."

Roy sighed, and smiled. "She is different."

Ed smiled. "I was stupid for thinking she'd be the same."

"Your nervous system?" The doctor peered doubtingly over the rim of his golden spectacles. He didn't have to voice his thoughts out loud: Out of all your injuries, you're most concerned about when your nerves will be working again? "Forgive me for my rudeness, Mr. Elric, but most patients in your position would be grateful for the lack of pain, if they were even conscious at all."

Ed grinned dangerously. "I'm not most patients."

The doctor cleared his throat uncomfortably before glancing back down at Ed's chart held in his large hand. "Well, I'd say it's probably permanent. A small amount of feeling might return as the nerve endings heal, but it's likely you'll be this way for the rest of your life."

"What about the nerve ending thingies?" Ed asked eagerly.

The doctor frowned. "I hope you understand I'm not making any promises, Mr. Elric. To be blunt, there's only a ten percent chance of any feeling returning at all."

"But that's still ten percent, right? Is there any way to make it bigger?"

The doctor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You're going to need quite a bit of surgery, Mr. Elric, so the constant use of anesthetic will probably lower the chances..."

"So use a lower dosage."

The doctor blinked and looked at Ed as if he was crazy. "Pardon?"

Ed resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I said use a lower dosage," Ed deadpanned, as if talking to a three-year-old.

"I know what you said, Mr. Elric," the doctor said rather indignantly. "I was just unsure whether you understood the true meaning of what you were saying."

Ed snorted. "I'm not an idiot, doctor. When I say things, I mean them."

"If you wish to have a lower dose of anesthetic during your surgeries in order for your nerves to heal properly, then that is possible - we will, however, need your signature." The doctor shuffled through a few papers behind Ed's chart, before tugging one off the clipboard and handing it to Ed with a blue biro from his white pocket. "Sign here and here, please," he said quietly, pointing at the two quite clear dotted lines in the middle and at the end of the slightly crumpled paper.

Ed scribbled two almost illegible signatures down (Roy noted with exasperation that they looked completely different) before shoving the paper back under the doctor's nose. "Here."

The doctor blinked, squinting at the two signatures - one resembling 'E. Elric' and the one below it looking suspiciously like 'Look up there' - before sighing and returning the form to where it was before. "I will alert the surgeon."

"When's the surgery?" Roy spoke up suddenly, and the deep baritone attracted the attention of the two other occupants of the room.

"The first surgery, the one to disinfect and seal up Mr. Elric's right side, will be scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. There will be another surgery the next morning for his left eye, and another on Thursday for his right leg."

Roy nodded. "That okay?" he muttered to Ed.

"Doesn' matter much, really. S'long as I get out of here as fast as possible," Ed mumbled back.

Roy rolled his eyes. "Thank you, doctor."

The doctor smiled for the first time since arriving through the sterile door. "I am just doing my job, Mr. Mustang."

The white-clad doctor shuffled out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. Ed and Roy heard him greet a few colleagues quite loudly as he passed them.

Roy sighed and leant down to pick something up from beneath Ed's bed. He emerged with a long white pole ("What the hell is that doing under my bed?"), and poked the door with it until it closed.

"What was the point in that, you lazy arse?"

"I'll have you done in for insubordination, Fullmetal, if you don't shut up."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

Ed laughed. "No, seriously - you wouldn't. You like me too much, Colonel Bastard."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Finish your food."

There. Momo got herself an OC. :P (She also got herself quoted by the anonymous nurse: 'Holy mother of crap!')