You know what? I think Victor's my favorite from the TC gang. Derek's great and all (a loveable loser who somehow manages to be the hero is always a welcome character in my book), and Angie's... Angie. But Victor just LOOKS like a jerk. And acts like one. But deep down... nah, he's kind of a jerk. But he's a good guy. ;) I think. Anyway, he's fun to write. I love the moment (you'll see) where Derek looks at him, waiting for him to say something, and he totally just doesn't care. Bwahaha. :3

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this (surprisingly) short fic... at least, it WOULD be short, were it not for the fact that it was supposed to be only one chapter when I started writing it... (NO, ED, I DID NOT CALL YOU SHORT! XD)

Disclaimer: Really? Who reads these? I own nothing.


CHAPTER IV: A Fullmetal Heart

Alphonse alternated agitatedly between pacing and sitting, getting up every few seconds to stomp back and forth across the waiting room tile floor, only to sit back down again a few moments later and repeat the process. He didn't even realize he was doing it – his mind was not in the waiting room, but in the operating room with Ed, imagining all sorts of worst-case scenarios.

"Sir," said a nurse nearby, "Sir, please, sit down. The operation will be over soon…"

"Sorry, sorry," Al mumbled, but he hadn't really heard her, and kept pacing.

The nurse sighed. She doubted she could force him to sit if she tried, and she knew there was nothing she could say that would calm him. She left him to go check on one of the patients in the other rooms.

Alphonse wished he could grow tired, so that at least a measure of stillness, if not serenity, could come to him. Any real human would be exhausted by now; if lucky, possibly even asleep. But Al could not sleep, and he could not sit still. There was nothing to distract him from the fear, and from the guilt. The last words he had exchanged with his brother had been in anger – only a mask for the terror he felt, but they had been nasty nonetheless, and he wished he could take them back. He should have said something, anything, to Ed before they had begun operating.

Now, there was nothing Al could do but wait. It was a helpless, hopeless feeling, and if something didn't change soon, it was going to drive him mad.

Then, just as he was about to sit again, the door of Ed's room swung open, and Dr. Marcoh stepped out into the hallway. Al was on his feet in a flash, and halfway across the room before Marcoh had taken two steps. "How is he? Is he all right?"

Marcoh blinked, looking dazed. "What? Oh—"

"Doctor Marcoh, is my brother all right?"

"Alphonse, he—"

"He's going to be all right," said Derek, his voice sounding slightly hoarse, as he stepped out to join them in the hall.

Angie and Victor appeared as well. The pretty blonde nurse seemed to smile at Al from behind her surgical mask, while Victor barely gave him a second glance before heading down the hall towards the research center of the hospital to examine the specimen Derek had obtained for him at the last minute.

"He…" Al was afraid to believe it, afraid that it was too good to be true. "He's… okay?"

"It's amazing that he was still alive by the time we got here," Angie said. "But – your brother, am I right? – he really has an amazing will to live. Doctor Stiles managed to remove all of the GUILT from his body, and Doctor Marcoh assures us that soon we should be able to restore his ability to use alchemy as well. Your brother is going to be just fine."

"Savato attacks the heart," Derek explained as Al continued to stare at them in shock. "That's the reason it takes effect so quickly. But your brother's heart is strong – one of the strongest I've ever seen. It was more his doing than mine that he pulled through in the end."

"Ed…" Al began to cry anew, but the tears he would have cried were tears of joy now. "Oh, thank you, Doctor Stiles! And you too Doctor Marcoh! And you, Angie!" He hugged them all (they tried not to groan – his hugs were rather tight) and then rushed past them into the room. "Ed! Ed! Are you awake? Brother!"

Ed was just barely beginning to regain consciousness. "Al…" he murmured. "Al, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me Ed! Thank goodness you're all right!" Al just caught himself before tossing his arms around his recuperating brother. He knelt next to the bed, to be closer to eye-level with Ed, and clasped his hands tightly together. "I was so worried… I thought… I thought…"

"You idiot," Ed said, a small, wry smile slowly spreading across his lips. "I told you I wasn't gonna die yet, remember?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Listen to me, Al. I'm not gonna die on you. I won't leave you alone. I promised you I would get our bodies back, and I'm not going to break that promise. Got it?"

Al didn't need a human face for Ed to know that he was smiling. "Got it. Hey, Ed… uh, sorry, you know, about before…"

Ed shook his head. "Forget it, Al. I don't even remember most of what you said anyway." His smile faded. "Say, Al… did you ever find Winry, yet?"

Al jerked back in surprise. "Oh my gosh, Winry! I – I was so busy worrying about you, Ed, I couldn't think straight… I forgot to ask…"

Ed pushed himself up a little. "Al, get them to bring me a telephone. Now."

He held his breath, listening intently to every ring of the phone as he waited for someone to answer. "Come on, Granny…"

Finally, on the fourth ring, Pinako's familiar voice came crackling through the telephone lines. "Hello? Pinako Rockbell speaking…"

"Granny!"

"Oh, Edward, it's you – Ed, is something wrong?"

"Listen, when was the last time you saw Winry?"

There was an odd pause. "Winry?... What do you mean?"

"I know there was an automail exhibition not too long ago in Central City. Did Winry go?"

"Well, actually—"

Distantly, he thought he heard someone ask if Pinako was speaking to Edward. It was hard to tell, but it sounded like…

There was a scuffling sound on the phone as it was handed over to someone else. Then: "Edward? Is that really you?"

Her voice was rough and scratchy and didn't sound quite right, but there was still no mistaking it. Ed would have recognized it anywhere. "Winry?"

Al's eyes widened. "She's there? With Granny?"

"Yeah, who did you expect?" She coughed. "I just talked to you a week ago, didn't I? I'm surprised to hear back from you so soon. You didn't break your arm or your leg again, did you?" she added in a threatening tone.

"Wha— no, not yet. Winry, what are you doing at home?"

Another pause. "Ed… you know how weird that sounds, right? Why wouldn't I be at home?" She coughed again. "Oh – wait, do you mean the exhibition? Oh, Ed, I wanted to go so badly, you have no idea…" Actually, he did. "But a couple days before I was going to leave, I caught a really bad cold. I would've gone anyway, but Granny made me stay in bed until I got better."

Ed blinked, letting the information sink in for a minute. Winry was safe. Winry was at home and – relatively – well. Winry was not in Central, had never gone to Central because… because…

He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

Al stared at him as though he had gone insane. "Uh… Brother?"

Winry's tone matched Al's attitude. "Ed? What the hell? What's so funny?"

It felt good to laugh, even if his chest still ached a little from the operation and the stitches. He laughed until he couldn't breathe, and then he was still grinning even as he caught his breath. "Nothing… Never mind, it's nothing. I'm just – glad you're all right."

"O…kay…" He could just imagine Winry shaking her head, confused. "Whatever. Yeah, I'm fine… why, is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I was just…"

He didn't say it, but she had grown accustomed to filling in his blanks. "Worried? About me? I'm fine, Ed." She coughed again, and paused to blow her nose loudly. "Did Granny tell you I was sick or something?"

"What? No. It's Central – there's sort of a problem here, and…"

"Wait – 'here'? You're IN CENTRAL?"

Ed cringed. He had been hoping that maybe somehow she hadn't heard about the crisis, but it seemed even rural Risembool had gotten wind of the news by now. "Yeah," he said in a small voice.

"What the hell are you doing in Central? How did you even get in? There's a quarantine and everything! Ed – Ed, are you okay? You didn't get sick, did you?"

"I'm fine, Winry," he answered evasively.

"You idiot. You're lucky, you could have been killed! I heard about the outbreak, they say no one's survived it yet."

"Well, I wouldn't say no one…"

"Is the quarantine still going on? Did they find a cure yet?"

"Sort of," he said, sharing a glance with Al, who could hear her high-pitched shouts even without putting his head next to the phone. "They know what it is now, and they're working on getting rid of it as soon as possible. I'm sure the quarantine won't last much longer now."

"Thank goodness." She sighed. "I heard mostly it was state alchemists who were getting sick. I knew you weren't there – you weren't supposed to be there, anyway – when it happened, but I couldn't help being worried, anyway. You… sure you're okay?"

Ed nodded, then remembered she couldn't see him. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, I promise. Al's fine too."

"Well of course he is," she retorted. "He can't get sick. What were you doing there, anyway?"

"We came to report back to the Colonel. And then when we heard about the quarantine, we decided to investigate." There was no way he was going to tell her that she was the real reason. "And we wanted to check on Mrs. Hughes and Elicia."

"Are they all right?"

"They're fine. So's the Colonel and his crew."

A nurse stuck her head in the room. "Sir, we'll be needing that phone again shortly."

"Gotta go," Ed said to Winry.

"Already? Listen, call back soon, all right?"

"Yeah."

"I mean it, Ed. You always say 'yeah,' and then it's practically a year before I hear from you again. And when I do, it's always because you've gotten yourself into trouble and need me to fix you up again. You don't need an excuse to call, y'know?"

He hesitated. "I… sure."

"And Ed?"

"Yeah, Winry?"

"… You and Al be careful, okay? Take care of yourselves."

"We will. Don't worry about us. You take care too, Winry. Uh…" For a moment, he felt as though there was something he wanted to say, something besides just good-bye… but he didn't know what it could be. "Bye," he said quickly, and hung up as soon as she said it back. He handed the phone to the nurse, and sank back down into his pillows.

"Thank goodness she's all right," Al sighed. "I feel awful that I didn't look for her, but when you got sick…"

"Don't worry about it, Al. Everything's okay now, that's what matters." He closed his eyes, and fell asleep just as the sun was beginning to rise.

Derek was right. He couldn't save all the patients in Central City's hospital, though he tried his hardest to just the same. He passed out more than once from using the Healing Touch too many times in a row, but he never gave up, and rarely rested more than a couple of hours at most before going back to work, no matter how many times Angie lectured him on taking care of himself. Only a handful of his operations were unsuccessful, but these failures were due more to the advanced ages of the patients or other health complications, rather than a shortcoming on Derek's part.

Meanwhile, Victor and Dr. Marcoh worked side-by-side researching the newly mutated savato and the alchemical blocker that had been mixed with it, and within a few days they had successfully developed both a vaccine and a compound which would nullify the effects of the blocking agent. With alchemy back in the equation, Derek was no longer fighting alone – alchemy allowed other doctors without the Healing Touch to operate more successfully, and in a couple of weeks, the GUILT was defeated, and a thoroughly exhausted Dr. Stiles announced that the quarantine on the city could finally be lifted. It was a somewhat bittersweet time, for while the end of GUILT was a huge relief, many lives had been lost before the battle ended, and more than one funeral now had to be planned and endured. Still, victory was victory, and the celebrations outnumbered the sorrows.

Al made sure to call Winry, so he and Ed could tell her the happy news, and reassure her once again that they and all their friends were fine.

As for Damiano, after his interrogation he was placed under formal (proper) arrest at Central Headquarters – only to be found dead in his cell the next day, having apparently committed suicide. This alone seemed suspect to Roy, since Damiano had not been exhibiting any suicidal tendencies or attitudes whatsoever before his death, and the Colonel's suspicions only grew when he received a report a few days later stating that, according to the news in Aerugo, six people had been found, murdered, not far from the Amestris-Aerugo border. They appeared to have been traveling, and it was believed that they had crossed the border shortly before being killed. The day after that, it was reported that an old warehouse in Aerugo, which had apparently been serving as some sort of underground research facility, had been burned to the ground; the damage was so extensive that it was unable to be determined exactly what had been researched there, or what materials had been used.

Roy knew this was no coincidence; those people must have been Damiano's accomplices, and the warehouse their laboratory for synthesizing GUILT. But who had managed to murder all seven of them, and destroy the lab, without leaving a single trace of evidence?

Of course, if he had known the man called Father's plans, he would have realized that a deadly disease like savato would have had a disastrous impact on the fate which had been designated for Amestris. Such a large wrench in the works simply was not acceptable. A philosopher's stone, after all, is only as good as the number of sacrifices used to create it.

Once things had finally settled down again and Central had, for the most part, gone back to business as usual, it was time to go. Edward and Alphonse, accompanied by Marcoh and Roy, shook hands with Derek, Angie and Victor as they parted ways at the train station.

"Thanks again, Doc," Ed grinned at Derek.

Derek smiled back. "Thank you, Ed. After all, it was your operation that gave us the sample we needed to make the vaccine." He glanced at Victor, but if he had been expecting an echoing thank-you, he was doomed to be disappointed. Victor was doing his best impression of someone very important and very busy, who had better things to do than exchanging pleasantries at train stations.

"And thank you again for sharing your research, Doctor Niguel," Marcoh said to Victor. "For all our advances in alchemy, it seems we still have a lot to learn when it comes to scientific medicine. I'm starting to wonder if research into a combination of the two might help us to make even more progress in the future."

Victor made a noncommittal noise in his throat. "Perhaps. Of course, scientific research is the most important step – as we saw with this strain of GUILT, one can't always count on alchemy to save the day."

"Er – indeed."

"This group you mentioned before, Delphi…" Roy began.

"Don't worry, we'll send you all the information on them we have once we get back to Caduceus. Did you ever find out the name of the doctor that was involved with Delphi, the one that gave the team from Aerugo their information?" asked Derek, conscious of Angie listening intently beside him.

Roy nodded. The name he gave was, thankfully, an unknown – it was not, as Angie had feared, her father, Kenneth Blackwell.

"Well. Take care of yourselves, Edward, Alphonse. All of you." Angie did not smile at them with her mouth, but they saw it in her eyes that she was pleased – if a bit weary. They all were.

"You too, Angie!" Al replied cheerfully as they waved their farewells.

He and Ed exchanged quick good-byes with the Colonel and Marcoh, and before they knew it they were boarding their own train, heading south. Edward said that they were heading in that direction because he'd heard some rumors that sounded promising to look into – something that might help them with regaining their bodies – but Al never believed it for a second. Though Ed's automail seemed perfectly fine, it was probably about time for a regular tune-up, anyway. He smiled to himself as he watched Ed watching the landscape move outside the window, his golden eyes already looking ahead, waiting for the familiar sight of home on the horizon.