A/N: Weeeelll. I tried to get all seven updates done by today, but I failed. Epically. I only got halfway through. D: But at least you still get three updates at once! -rotten tomatoes are thrown- Anyway, enjoy. I had fun writing them despite being pressed for time. ^_^

Chapter 7: Lockdown

"I can live with that, I suppose."

It had taken several minutes of explanation on the part of the Elric brothers, but Scar was now finally aware of the full situation, and, if not exactly 'content,' at the least, the Ishbalan was not completely dissatisfied with the situation. Scar evidently had been awake since Havoc had first knocked on the door, having sarcastically stated that 'if he could sleep through noises as loud as shouting and doors slamming, he would have been dead a long time ago.'

He had simply pretended to still be unconscious, fearing finding himself at the mercy of the Flame Alchemist. Scar did not like being so weak and helpless as he was now. Just sitting up right now was an effort; if he were to stand, he doubted he'd last for more than a minute before his knees buckled. He would not allow himself to show such weakness in front of an enemy. Granted, he doubted Mustang was the type to exploit the weakness of an injured man (even the state military, as corrupt as he knew it to be, still considered kicking someone while they were down as bad form--a pity not everyone in lived to such a high moral standard), but he refused to fight his instincts any further than he already had to in preventing himself from attempting what would assuredly be a suicidal escape attempt. Scar was a marked man, both literally and figuratively; he would be shot down before he even made it down the stairs. Alternatively, jumping out the window was not an option this time around, not in his condition.

"That's good to hear, Scar," Al answered, breaking the momentary silence, "How are you feeling? Any better?"

If it hadn't been Alphonse, he likely would have snapped at the one who asked. It'd only been a few hours since he had been injured, and he hadn't been conscious/functioning for long after that. He hadn't had time to 'feel better.'

"I'm fine," he answered coldly. It was an obvious lie, but the subtext was as clear as if he had written it out on a banner: 'I don't feel like answering. Don't ask me again.'

The tension in the room lasted a good few minutes, before a knock on the door sounded. All three heads snapped towards the sound.

"Just a minute!"

"We have to hide him! What are we gonna do, Brother?"

The two scattered around and out of desperation, finally threw a blanket over him and had him lie down (which Scar found monumentally stupid as a means of actually hiding him, but there wasn't the time to argue). Al then sat down on the bed while Ed went to open the door. He was greeted by the smiling face of none other than...Maes Hughes?

"Hughes...what are you doing here?" Ed asked, somewhat nervously.

"Just reporting for jailer duty, Ed," he said with a grin, " 'ccording to Roy, I'm supposed to make sure you two don't try to sneak out a window or something."
Al waved sheepishly from his corner of the bed as Ed affected a shaky laugh. It wouldn't even take someone from Investigations like Hughes to understand that they were hiding something.

"Hey, don't look so worried, you two. I know who's here with you, and I'm not telling anyone!"

The brothers relaxed, and Al promptly rose, realizing much to his chagrin that his weight on the blanket had effectively trapped the Ishbalan.

The next few hours passed quickly. Ed and Al always felt at ease around the lieutenant colonel. They had been good friends ever since the incident on the train. Heck, they'd even helped deliver his wife's baby. It was easy for the duo to forget that their close friend was in the military, and they did, sometimes, especially when the identifying blue jacket wasn't on. He rarely acted as if he was as high-ranking as he actually was, and protocol was largely forgotten around him. Even when something was serious, there was always a sense of levity about him. It was as if his very aura exuded joy and happiness, causing it in others like laughing gas.

Scar remained silent throughout the entire encounter, but for the sound of cloth shifting as he attempted to go back to sleep. He soon discovered he couldn't, even though he was plenty tired enough, and that shifting around only made him much more uncomfortable. Frustrated, the Ishbalan settled for staring at the ceiling and counting the square tiles (and then the dots in the square tiles) along it in the hopes it would lull him to sleep. The Elric brothers and Hughes seemed too wrapped up in their conversation to notice him. Which was just fine with Scar; the less people noticed him, the better for him, he figured.

But in itself, the conversation had a rhythmic, almost soothing flow to it. When Scar gave up counting dots and allowed his mind to idle, he found himself being almost hypnotized by it, as a metronome might do to someone. Just as he was starting to fall asleep, it ended, Hughes getting up to leave.

"Well, I've got to be getting home. G'night Ed, Al," he said as he raised his hand in a wave. He then turned to Scar, and wished him good night as well, receiving only a cursory grunt in answer.

"Don't go doing anything crazy now, you two. Roy'll have my head if you two sneak out on me." He chuckled a bit, hazel eyes twinkling.

"We won't, Hughes! Promise! Right, Brother?"

"Yeah, yeah! Good night, and tell Gracia and Elysia we say hello!"

"Of course!"

---

After he was gone, Scar's valiant attempts at sleep were interrupted yet again. Scar was about ready to scream in frustration: he was exhausted; his whole body felt heavy and leaden, but every time he got close to slipping away into sleep, something or another happened to jolt him into awareness. This time it was Alphonse's sudden weight on the bed that awakened him.

"We're so lucky that Hughes is our supervision this week--I guess the colonel wasn't too mad at us."

"Heh, yeah. Imagine if it was Armstrong or something!" Ed didn't need to elaborate, and the two of them shared a chuckle about the pink-sparkly horror that would be.

Scar couldn't take it any more. He violently twisted onto his side in an attempt to muffle all the noise, an audible 'agh!' sounding from the pain he inflicted on himself in doing so.

It took a few seconds, but all at once it sunk in for Ed and Al.

"Oh. Sorry about that. We'll be quiet for ya," Ed assured him with a grin as he crossed the room to the couch.

Alphonse didn't move away immediately, and instead reached over to gently tug the Ishbalan onto his back again, figuring he would be more comfortable in that position. Scar stiffened against the sudden touch and scowled darkly.

"What are you doing?"

If Al still had a human face, he would have blanched at the tone. "Well...I..I thought..." he looked down, somewhat disheartened. "I thought you'd be more comfortable on your back."

Scar blinked. His natural instinct was to say no and resist, as he had earlier that afternoon--he felt uneasy about someone being even that close, let alone touching him, especially when his only defense was the alchemy in his right arm. Being at the mercy of anyone, even those that had saved his life in the first place, was unnerving for Scar. He forced himself to swallow the fear. He had to remember this was Alphonse Elric. Alphonse wouldn't hurt him. He never hurt anyone--or anything--unless protecting himself or his brother.

He nodded at Al, giving the boy the go-ahead to turn him back over, though he flinched instinctively as the animated suit of armor did so. The young man was surprisingly gentle, despite the armor's bulk and size; it was almost as if he were picking up a wounded bird and not a man, as careful as Al was with him.

"Is that better, Scar?"

He opened his mouth to answer in the affirmative, but he was suddenly overcome with such a massive wave of exhaustion that he only managed to mumble something incoherent before finally drifting off into the sleep that had eluded him for hours.