Author's notes: I really had no clue what to write after about the 800 word mark… which is why this took so long… I apologize for that. Then I came up with Hawkeye's little spiel from the line 'how can you be so sure?' I won't reveal anything more here. Go read and find out for yourself, but I must say, thanks to that, I managed to get this up to a semi-acceptable word count without having Roy's mental monologues continue to repeat themselves. As they were beginning to do…

To my anonymous reviewer: I'm sure you're not the only one, after all, he's only in a small part of the last two chapters. And yes, she should be able to. One would think.

Train Wrecked

Roy glanced up as the 'express' train from Risembool pulled in. He sighed, forcing himself off the bench to stand beside his lieutenant, hands forced into his pockets. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea." He mused. Now he was going to have to watch the automail mechanic's reaction to Edward's condition. He had no experience dealing with the Rockbells beyond their meeting all those years ago when he extended the invitation for Edward to take the State Alchemist exam. That lack of experience was only going to make this more difficult…

"There, coming off the second car," he heard Riza speak up, pointing to the blond-haired girl who had just stepped onto the platform, glancing around as if unsure of what to look for. Wordlessly, Roy approached the girl, Hawkeye close behind.

"Ms. Rockbell?" He asked politely, offering a hand, which she accepted hesitantly.

"Please, call me Winry." She replied.

"You might remember me, but I'm Colonel Roy Mustang. We met briefly in Risembool a few years ago." Mustang let his hand drop, and Winry did the same.

"Yes, I remember… have there been any updates on Edward?"

"I'm afraid not. Come with us, we'll take you straight to the hospital."

"Thank you, I appreciate it." Winry smiled slightly. Roy noticed that the smile seemed rather forced, but he supposed, in the circumstances, that was to be expected.

Hawkeye took Winry's suitcase, and the two soldiers escorted her to Roy's car. He let Hawkeye drive, although soon wished he had taken the wheel. He needed something to distract him from that damn awkward silence in the car, and nothing was offering itself. It was all too much of a relief to reach the hospital, at least, until Roy found himself leading the two women through the blasted white hospital walls. He hoped that Edward would at least be somewhat better than he was yesterday, for Winry's sake if nothing else.

It seemed to the Colonel that Alphonse never moved. He was still sitting in that exact same spot when they arrived at Edward's hospital room, staring at his brother silently. Roy had to remind himself that Alphonse couldn't eat, sleep or otherwise. Not in that armor. He wondered what the doctors and nurses must've thought, seeing him sitting there 24/7, with no sign of moving.

Edward's condition hadn't changed – which, Roy supposed, was better than it deteriorating. His breaths were still being taken in short, rasped gasps, his chest trembling with the effort it took just to get a single breath into his lungs.

Winry let out a choked sob, shakily moving to Edward's side. She sat on the edge of his bed, gently placing her hand on the side of his face. "Edward? Edward, it's me… please, wake up…" She moved her hand to his shoulder, unable to stop the tears that ran down her face and fell onto the blanket covering the boy, creating dark spots against the white. "Edward… don't do this… wake up!" She shook his shoulder gently, hoping for a miracle, hoping he would open his eyes, smile at her, and ask why she was crying over nothing. But he didn't. There was no response from her childhood friend. She took his hand – his human hand – and held it to her cheek, crying. "Edward…" She placed his hand back down on the bed, and wiped the tears from her eyes. "How… how long has he been like this?"

"Two weeks." Alphonse whispered. "Two weeks and a day." Roy felt a pain in his chest that had nothing to do with physical damage. Alphonse was sitting here, counting every day that Edward was lying in the hospital. He wondered briefly if he had any chance of getting the younger Elric brother to leave this room and go outside for a little while – five minutes, even – but soon disregarded the prospect. Alphonse Elric wasn't going anywhere until Edward Elric was awake and on the mend. "Winry… do you think he'll be okay?"

"Of course." Winry nodded. "I… I don't know when he'll wake up, but I know that Edward won't leave his goals uncompleted." She gave Alphonse a sad, half-forced smile. "He'll wake up, and then you'll get your bodies back."

Roy wished he had the same faith in Edward right now. Winry hadn't seen him covered in blood like he was, crushed inside that train car. Maybe if he hadn't seen that mess, he would've been more optimistic. It would definitely be awhile before Edward woke up. If he woke at all.

"Sir," Riza spoke up quietly, "Perhaps we should leave now."

"Yes, I suppose we should." Mustang sighed. "Winry, if you need anything, Alphonse has my number. Don't hesitate to call."

"Yes," Winry nodded, "thank you, Colonel."

The State Alchemist took his leave, his lieutenant close behind as they walked through the plain hospital hallways. Neither spoke – neither knew what to say. It wasn't as if there was much to say. Edward was lying there, struggling to even breathe, and they couldn't help him. It wasn't a state that one would normally see Edward in. Sure, there had been the occasional times when he had been unconscious for a day after he had gotten into a rough fight with the Homunculi, but Edward always had a fast recovery time, and he was back up on his feet – and edgy from the lack of action or general progress – in no time.

"Hey, Chief," Havoc greeted when the Colonel strode into his office, "how's the kid?"

"Same as before." Mustang answered with a sigh.

"I do hope he gets better soon…" Fuery looked down, his shoulders hunched. He looked even smaller like that, but no one made a comment. "Alphonse has been miserable."

"Well, hopefully Ms. Rockbell will be able to cheer him up soon." Hawkeye added, running her hand along Black Hayate's back. The dog had been sleeping in the corner of the office until their arrival, and was now concerned by the dull, edgy atmosphere in the room.

"He can't stay like that forever. I mean," Breda spoke up, referring to Ed, "he's Edward Elric. The Fullmetal Alchemist. The Hero of the People. He won't be down for much longer." They were the words everyone wanted to hear, the words everyone wanted to believe. The problem was, they had a hard time believing them.

"It may be awhile." Falman sighed. "Injuries like the ones he sustained in the derailment are usually fatal, even for someone like him."

"If you're concerned," Mustang snapped, "why don't you go and visit him yourselves?"

"Right now?" Fuery stared at him.

"Yes! Just get out of here!" The Colonel didn't want to hear them talk about Fullmetal. He didn't want to hear them discuss the chances of his survival, of his awakening, of his recovery in general. He especially didn't want to hear about the injuries Edward had sustained. Didn't he have enough scars? Hadn't he already gone through Hell and back? Whose bright idea was it to keep throwing all of this pain and suffering at two brothers who had only wanted to see their mother once again? It was impossible to justify the further injury they were experiencing, just because they wanted to set things right.

"Sir?" Hawkeye interrupted his thoughts. Only then did he realize that everyone else had left. He couldn't blame them – not after he had snapped like that. "I understand that you're stressed. We all are." She paused, watching him, "but there's no reason to take it out on the men."

"I know, Lieutenant." He sighed. "But I really don't want to hear anymore. Tell me, Hawkeye… what do we do if he doesn't wake up? Alphonse will be heartbroken, and after all the encouraging words we've given him… how are we supposed to face him? What am I supposed to write on the post-processing? It was a 'tragic accident that could have been prevented'? Damn it!" The nearest throwable object – Havoc's pack of cigarettes that he had forgotten to retrieve in his haste to avoid the Colonel's rage – found itself meeting the opposite wall at a high speed. Roy slammed his hand down on the table. This was someone's fault, and that someone was going to pay.

"You won't have to worry about that, Sir, because it won't end like that."

"Damn it, how can you be so sure?" Roy's hand remained on the table, being used as a support. A week ago, he would've been certain that Edward would've been fine. A week ago, he had told Alphonse that Edward would probably 'wake up in a day or so'. A week ago, Alphonse's hope had shattered when his brother didn't wake up then. Perhaps Roy's hope had gone with it.

"I can't be." Hawkeye responded. Mustang turned to look at her, surprised. What was she saying? That her words were false? The lieutenant closed her eyes. "I say what I do, because, if I say it enough, the moral of those around me will begin to lift with their hopes. And when their spirits begin to rise, so will the spirits of those who matter." She paused. "They say there is a point when a person in a coma starts to become aware of what is occurring around him. Do you think that Edward would want to lie there, able to hear his brother's lifeless tones and unable to do anything? Do you think that, if he were somehow aware of the low morale around him, aware that everyone had given up on him, that he would want to wake up?" She shook her head. "I don't believe he would. So I will continue to speak as if it is a certainty. Because, maybe if I do, eventually it could reach him, and someday soon, he'll storm in here with a poorly written report, slamming the door and calling you names, just as he always has."

Roy was stunned. He had no clue where that had come from, but every word of it rang true to him. He understood what she was trying to establish. If they wanted Edward to wake up, then they had to give him a reason to do so. They had to prove that they hadn't given up on him, that they still had faith in the shrimp and knew that he had the strength to come back to them. He also saw the second point she was making – if their spirits raised, then Alphonse's would, too. There was only so much the half-hearted encouragement they had been giving the younger Elric brother could do. If they truly began to believe that Edward would return to them – as he would, Roy reminded himself – then Alphonse would brighten up, too.

"Alright, Lieutenant." He closed his eyes, a faint smile on his face. "Come on," he turned and headed to the door, his steps purposeful and determined.

"Where to, Sir?"

"The hospital. I need to have a talk to Fullmetal."

He saw a knowing smirk find its way onto Hawkeye's face as she fell into step behind him.

There was no doubt left in his mind. Edward Elric was much too strong physically to let himself just fade away like that. Roy hadn't seen it before – perhaps because it was always his brother there to fill the role, or perhaps something he himself said did it for him, even if the Colonel didn't notice it himself – but now that he thought back on it, it had always been there. In his darkest times, Edward needed some sort of encouragement or advice, some form of support, to get him back on his feet. Mustang's mind trailed back to his first meeting with the boy – those dead-looking eyes, staring up at him, full of fear and regret. How much they had changed as Roy had given him the prospect of joining the military to find a way to regain what he and his brother had lost. They had gone from soulless to determined, as if the Flame Alchemist had somehow managed to set a spark in the boy's golden irises themselves.

A spark that created a flame, a flame which drove him forwards towards his goal.

Yes. That was what Edward needed to wake up. That same mental support those around him had given him without realizing it. He wasn't getting that support now, because, without those clear indicators – the boy's vocal tones, his body language itself, the strength of that fire in his eyes – no one had realized that he needed it. They couldn't hear that Edward was hurting, they couldn't see how he carried himself, and they had no way of realizing that the fire had gone out.

Roy had decided. He would relight that fire in any way he could. It would take time, but he would make sure it returned.