-SIGHGASPSTUTTERGAG- Are you happy, reviewers? YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY KILLED ME WITH THIS CHAPTER! T.T

Me: Oh wow! Everyone loved chapter four! O.O LOOKIT THAT HIT COUNTER! I think I'll write a sequel! -OMINOUS MUSIC-

Hmm...I think it's safe to say I can ignore that. :33 -ignores-

TWO WEEKS LATER

Me: DDD: DEAR GOD! MAKE THE PAIN STOPPPPP!

Ominous Music: Told you so. /

I would like to make a few things clear:

1. This is NOOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTTTTT YAAAAAAAAOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!

I will never write yaoi. Not now. Not ever. If you say in your review, "OMGILOVEROYxED!THANKSSSSd00d!" I will find out where you live, fly there with my Fullmetal Movie money, cut you open, take out your entrails, nail them to a pole, and shoot a gun at your feet until you dance and ALLLLL your guts come out. :3 Doesn't that sound like fun? Oh, I know. It does. DON'T WANT TO MEET THIS FATE? Don't say it's yaoi. 'Cause it's not. -venomous glare-

2. I really...REALLY...REAAAAAAAAALLLY want feedback. Reviews make my day. :D And if I get like 10 or 15 on this chapter, I'll have reached 100 total reviews. WHOA WHOA WHOA! Talk about schweet. Reviews make me want to write more, too.

3. This chapter had to be rewritten. Twice. TWICE. I have the rough drafts to prove it if any of you want to see. D'you know they were actually going to go on a picnic...hmm...can you say...change of plans? But yeah, I know it's not very good, and basically none of the meaning that I wanted is there. (AND IT'S SUPER SAPPY! X.X!) But I did try. D: I DID IT FOR YOU, REVIEWERS! FOR YOU! So guess what? REVIEW!

4. This was actually requested by several people. A lot of my homies wanted to see a sequel to this chapter. I guess I did leave it kinda unresolved. Well anyway, here it is. Solid proof that I take requests. So, if you can't tell what I'm getting at here...MAKE A REQUEST! Pleeeeaasee? And in your REVIEW because I want REVIEWS. Please? ...

Is there an echo in here?

Yeah. Review. :3 That's pretty much it.

If you want to understand, read chapter four, Need, first. This is the sequel.

Don't own it!

No spoilers!

Not yaoi!

Enjoy!

-coughreviewcough-

The first thing he heard was a gentle, lulling rhythm. It wafted from the radio on the breeze floating through the cracked window, and it was soothing. The sun on his face was warm and comforting, caressing his sharp features like his mother would have, warming them and bringing a healthy flush to pale, papery cheeks. And for a moment, he considered staying there forever, in the comforting state of mind that one assumed when they had not yet reached full wakefulness, and the mind still meandered sporadically in countless directions.

But the world had a cruel way of dragging Edward Elric back to reality whenever he found even the smallest semblance of peace, and the key scraping in the lock made him open his heavy-lidded eyes – albeit with extreme difficulty.

It was odd, the way that Roy suddenly appeared over him, and it made Ed realize perhaps his heavy-lidded blink had lasted much long than he anticipated. Because certainly, he couldn't recall the man being so fast that he could be at the door one minute and hovering over him with a worried expression he had been wearing so often lately plastered on his face the next.

The world was shrouded in a silver mist, Edward marveled vaguely in the moments when he was able to pry his eyes open. He found himself smiling like an idiot as he absently fingered the soft wool blanket from Gracia, because it was the loveliest that the world had looked in an awfully long time. A nagging feeling that there was something that ought to be bothering him floated in and out of his hazy mind, but he couldn't find the energy to care at the moment. Not when the silver clouds tickled at his senses, made him feel a beautiful, drowsy, giddiness that he hadn't felt since his...since his...

Since his world had fallen apart.

Since his life had been torn to pieces.

Since his brother had died.

And quite suddenly, the gentle mist that had once tickled his features and given him a sense of joy, turned into a smoggy haze that did nothing but fog his vision and deceive his acute senses.

After several more minutes of trying to shake the fog clear, he gave up, and turned his attention to Roy who rapidly shifted his weight from foot to foot mere inches away from Ed's ear, shouting something that, even in the close proximity, Edward's mind couldn't comprehend.

"Edward...lazy...you haven't...since... left...hear...Ed..." Though it was fractured and disjointed, the urgency that laced the tone made Ed understand that Roy was worried, and not pissed again like he had been when Ed broke a good dinner plate on the wall two nights ago.

There were still grease stains in the wallpaper.

Edward tried to respond, really, he did, but his throat felt as if it had been filled with cotton when he was sleeping, and all that came out was a muffled gurgle that quite closely resembled a sob. But it wasn't, Ed reprimanded himself firmly. It wasn't a sob, because he had gotten past that, he had gotten past it, damnit. The medication was helping, the medication would help (or Roy was a dead man). And soon he would be living, really living, just like Al wanted him to.

But it was hard, so hard to live without him, and rather than getting easier, each day only made the weight heavier, until he was practically sagging and withering away under the enormous force of it.

"I...I can't think...straight," he managed to force out after Roy offered him a cup of something – what, he really didn't care – and even though white starbursts erupted before his eyes from the effort of forcing himself into a sitting position, he managed. Because that seemed to be what Roy wanted, and Ed was feeling relatively amiable this morning.

Well– he glanced at the clock – this evening.

Roy's expression grew dark before he covered it with a smirk again. But this smirk was not familiar, not the one that Ed had seen far too many times in his years in the military (with his brother), this one was jaded and distant, and it didn't help. Because even if Alphonse wasn't here anymore, everything else should be exactly the same. That's just the way that it should be.

"I know...they...that damn doctor sure did drug you to the gills, didn't he?" Edward only nodded his head gingerly, wary of the black and white dots that still speckled his vision. "I'm sorry, but if you want to get better..."

Ed flinched and looked at his blanket, "I'm not sick..." That made Roy frown, the corners of his mouth turning downward deliberately, slowly, carefully choosing a response that would avoid bringing harm to him and his already suffering home.

The walls around Edward's little nest were dotted with wide holes – the size of a teenager's fist, actually – and Roy had tried to cover them with paintings he had found at garage sales and photographs of his friends and family, at least until he could get around to fixing them (because Edward certainly wouldn't – he had stopped using alchemy, it seemed). But it ended up looking odd, having those frames so low on his wall, and so scattered. There wouldn't have been so many if Roy had stuck to his personal photograph collection, but once, he had made the mistake of framing and hanging a picture of the Elric brothers, smiling and laughing as the presented an enormous, gleaming trout to the camera. He put it just over the couch, where Edward had punched in a fit of rage the second week of the "angry, rebellious phase." The doctor had said that it would pass, that it was just a stage the in the mourning process for young men, but Roy's house was suffering, and it wasn't even over yet. Edward had broken the photograph frame, and blood speckled the wall as well because of the glass, and then proceeded to punch the wall for the two hours with, alternating between a flesh and automail fists, until Roy got home, went to his side, saved his wall from further damage, and cleaned the tears off his face and the blood off his hands.

"Not all sicknesses affect the body, Ed," and he tousled the boy's hair and rose slowly to his feet. "How about we have a picnic outside, you and me? It's a lovely evening." Edward snorted at the thought of going outside. It had been an awfully long time since he'd been outside.

"I don't think...that's...I just can't." The sentence was tiring, and he flopped against the pillows again, exhausted, expected the Colonel...no...Major-General (different...) to sigh and attempt to force feed him a can of corn.

But the sigh never came. The spoon never came to pry his lips apart. Roy said nothing.

Instead he heard a muffled cry, a sob even, but Edward reasoned logically that it couldn't have come from Roy. Because Roy didn't cry.

It came again, a little whisper, barely audible over the traffic sounds outside and the hum of the radio within, and it scared Edward out of his mind. Slowly, so slowly, he placed his feet on the ground and tried to gain his footing. But the haze of drugs made him misjudge the distance between his mattress and the floor, and he tumbled to the ground with a startled yelp.

That was enough to bring Roy running from the kitchen, hands covered in flour, eyes puffy and red. "Ed? Are you okay?" His voice wavered, and Ed vaguely wondered why, though he could barely hear his own thoughts over the blood pounding mercilessly in his ears. Ed shoved him back weakly, determined to show the Colon– Major-General that he wasn't helpless, godammit. That he could do it for himself even if the antidepressants made him hopelessly exhausted. So with a firm resolve and shaking limbs, he stood up, standing at a not-so-impressive, but confident height.

Before he could fully eliminate the nauseating sense of vertigo, Roy's arms were wrapped around him, and the sickly scent of ashes and aftershave tickled his nostrils.

It was strange, having to comfort the man who had spent the last three months comforting him, but Ed did his best to soothe him with several awkward pats on the back.

"Ed...are you...are you happy here?" Edward puzzled over the question for a moment as his legs continued to tremble. He hadn't been happy...in a long time. But he humored Roy and answered with a nod.

The man always seemed to know when he was lying. "Perhaps you would be happier...where the doctor recommended?" Edward let out a sharp breath and swiftly pulled away, looking at Roy with incredulous golden eyes. "He called me again today. I told him...I told him that you were...you weren't better yet. And he wants to take you to the – "

"Am I too much trouble?" He snarled fiercely, but behind the harsh words, he was heartbroken to have to look at the last person he considered family and think that maybe Roy didn't want him. Just like everyone else.

And it was all his fault.

"It's not that! It's – I don't know if what I'm doing is best for you." But Ed was deaf to all denials of his current state of mind, because the pieces were finally beginning to fit. This was the way it usually was, and this was the way things were meant to be. Edward wasn't allowed happiness, and it was only fair really – this was what he deserved for ruining as many lives as he did. This is the price that he had to pay.

So he buried his face into the pillow with such purpose that Roy let out another sort of strangled sob and marched out the apartment door.

By the time Ed had made up his mind to follow Roy's example and head out the front door, it was dark, and the window pane was cool on his skin as Ed pressed against it to gaze down at the solitary figure on the back lawn. And for the first time in several months, he cared. Try as he might, Ed wasn't able to forget that this man that been the first at his side when Al died, the first one to help when he awoke – scared and hopelessly alone.

So he began an awkward and terribly slow journey down the two long flights of stairs, mind racing with possibilities and heart beating rapidly at the thought of going outside for the first time since...since...

No matter. He would do it, and that was that, because Roy deserved as much, and he owed it to Roy. Still, his resolve wavered. Maybe...he should let them remove him from the home he had found in his superior officer's apartment? Maybe that was what Roy really deserved. He stopped, cold automail making new dents and grooves in the worn banister where he clutched it, gaze sharper than it had been in months penetrating a wall across from where he stood.

It wasn't until a little old woman that he thought he recalled from somewhere approached him and gave a timid tug to his sleeve that he pulled out of his reverie. Shaking his head, he looked down (looked down!) into her wide, bespectacled eyes.

"You're the boy that Roy's taken such a liking to?" She inquired softly.

"I suppose." He painted his best I-don't-give-a-damn expression on his face.

"May I ask why you're heading into the chill in your pajamas?" Edward seemed surprised at that, inclined his head to see that he was indeed still clothed in a pair of Roy's far too large pajamas. He lifted an automail hand to hurriedly redo the top two buttons and tighten the drawstring at his dreadfully thin waist, wondering if the old woman knew exactly what kind of boxer shorts he was wearing, already.

But she didn't seem angry, nor did she seem afraid when automail emerged from the blue cotton at his sleeve. She only smiled, told him not to move, disappeared into her apartment momentarily, and returned with a wooly hat and scarf. After several moments of the old woman waiting expectantly, mouth twitching between a frown and a smile, he obediently bent over so that she could place the hat over long, longer than it ever had been, unkempt hair and wrap his neck in the folds of the scarf. She looked at him, long and hard, considering the prominent cheekbones and flyaway hair, the automail, the tiny waist, the battle scars, her scrutinizing eyes traveling over his every flaw.

Just when the boy had grown tired of the unwanted attention, her face split into a wide smile. "You're just as he says. Stubborn one, aren't we?" Edward cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "I'm very sorry for your loss, child." Oh. Roy had told her...how could he, that bastard! At that point, Edward had half a mind to turn on his heel and start an awkward way back up the stairs, let the bastard rot by himself in the backyard, but the increasingly aggravating old woman seemed to have other ideas. "He loves you very much, you know." Shit. "I remember the day he carried you in here, worried out of his mind. Mind you, Mr. Mustang's been my neighbor for quite some time now. When he was younger, I got my fair share of two o'clock knocks on my door from him. He was always drunk out of his mind, of course. But you seem to have changed him, you know. You've made him so responsible. I believe...I believe that he thought, before you, he had run out of things to care about."

"I..."

"I'll tell you what I told him a long time ago, boy. Don't ever doubt that there are people who care about you." She turned to leave, casting one last look at his automail hand before disappearing into her room.

Before, Ed had failed to notice how positively lovely the tulips blooming in the well-kept flowerbeds that lined the garden walls were. And now, he wondered how he could have possibly done such a thing. Because they were beautiful, clustered together just so, white and yellow and red, sparkling in the dew that came with the fall of night. He felt the urge to pluck one that leaned into the garden path as he passed it, wondered how this particular flower had managed to escape the watchful gardener's eye and creep into the well-trodden aisle of rock. But he didn't because, he remembered bitterly, Al had never liked it when he plucked flowers.

"If you pick them all, no on will be able to enjoy them, Brother. Come on, we'll transmute a flower for mother."

The man he sought was seated among the blooms, absently running his hand over the petals, and humming something Ed remembered hearing a long time ago – though he couldn't quite recall the words. "Edward. Go back inside. You'll catch your death."

"Aww, a lousy cold can't be any worse than dehydration." And he had been dehydrated more times in the last three months than he could shake a stick at.

Roy turned quickly to look at him, his eyes searching the depth's of Edward's own, looking there for the sarcasm and humor that he had heard in the voice seconds before.

When he found only the same dead, gold expression, he turned around, and sprawled onto his back. "Go back inside." He said with a finality that practically demanded Edward's retaliation. So, a faint flicker returning to his eyes, Ed continued forward until he was standing at Roy's side.

"I thought you wanted me to come outside." He fell to his knees.

"Not barefoot in your pajamas." He fell back to his rear.

"I'm not cold." And finally, mimicking Roy, he lay down on his back, limbs splayed unceremoniously throughout the long, dewy grass.

"The condensation will make you rust."

"Will make my automail rust," Ed corrected politely. "My automail is not 'me.'"

"...Pardon me. Your automail."

"In that case, let the damn thing rust. I'm watching the stars with you," he replied matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"Look. The stars are coming out." Ed pointed, and Roy followed the line that his gleaming automail finger made to the first star pushing its way into the sky through the bright haze of twilight.

The cool air cleared the boy's head, and the thoughts were coming faster, sharper now. Oh God, he was happy here. Because he had found a home again.

"Oh. I see it." There was a long silence, long enough that the rest of the stars visible over Central all peeked out from their hiding places beyond the horizon and reflected in attentive, shining golden eyes. When he had seen every star, memorized every glimmer, etched the picture into his mind, right next to the stars he remembered from Rizenbul, he turned his attention to the sliver of a moon. It was covered in a thin layer of wispy clouds, its pinprick beams of light trying with all their might to challenge the intensity of the sun itself.

"I feel sorry for the moon. And the stars. Don't you, Colonel?"

So curious was Roy that he forgot to remind Ed that he was not a Colonel anymore and hadn't been for quite some time. "Why's that Edward?"

For a moment, Ed stopped thinking scientifically and let his childish ideas saturate all his thoughts. "Because...everyone...everyone is so blinded by the heat and the brightness and the beauty of day that they forget night. They forget every day must have a night, and you can't be too focused on the day...or you'll just sleep through the beauty of the evening all the time. Everyone should stop to look at the stars, sometimes."

The understanding dawned on Roy, and somehow he knew that this was Edward trying to apologize, without actually – well – apologizing. "Ed, I..."

"...I've been focusing on the sun too much, Roy." He stifled a yawn with a flesh fist, and turning to his side, curled into a ball. "I need to...watch the stars more often." He teetered on the edge of a sleep that he had been tempted to succumb to since waking in the afternoon with the sun on his face. But before letting unconsciousness take him, he listened, strained his ears, and heard his little brother beside him – whispering a name for a star he swore had not been there the night before, and laughing, a gentle, tinkling laugh, as he wondered why anyone would make a constellation that was shaped like a spoon. And then he heard himself responding, "You're a dope, Al! But I love you."

"You're an idiot Roy." The second half hung unspoken in the air, but even so – Roy knew it was there.

"Yeah? You too." He smiled softly as Roy patted him gently on the head, and then Ed fell asleep, silver streaks of moonlight glinting off of golden hair that hung limp around his lax face – and making Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, look like an angel.

---

The next day, Roy came home from work surprised to find Edward had restored his den to its former glory – Roy's living room wall looked exactly as it had before a temperamental sixteen-year-old boy had invaded his life, his home – his heart. And over the sofa hung an aging, tattered photograph of two beaming little boys.

...Do I really have to say it:D