VOCALIZE:

Our Sense-

I was cold.

Only that feeling managed to make its way through to my mind. But I had been warm before, maybe I kicked the blankets off again. Or perhaps my shirt was pulled up and stomach exposed per usual.

Al's bed was always heavenly warm, so I unconsciously decided I would get up, crawl into his and suck the heat from him. What else were big brothers' for?

My hand gripped into the sheets to give leverage. And it was then that it registered that the sheets were silky, not rough and scratchy like mine. Odd…

I opened my eyes. And became slightly panicked.

Screw being in my own bed, I wasn't even in my room, let alone my house!

Then I saw some jeans and a shirt discarded carelessly onto the floor and my memory faded back to me.

I was in Mustang's house.

Well that was fine and dandy, but where was the bastard himself?

A coffee cup lay on the nightstand, with some droplets inside still wet, so I knew he couldn't have been gone long.

Fully prepared to search the house for his elusive ass, I got up creakingly and stepped on something quite awkward.

It was hard, and felt as the spine of a book did. This really, was absurd.

I thought that until I looked and spotted my journal beneath my foot. Thinking little of it, I scooped it up, hypothesizing that it had fallen out of my pocket while I was sleeping and dropped to the floor.

But upon closer inspection, I discovered the ribbon that usually held it closed was undone.

What the hell?

Peering into this new dilemma so diligently, I nearly had an aneurism when the cordless phone beside me rang harshly, startling me out of my thoughts.

As it rang, I pondered whether I should answer it. What if it was for Mustang? It wasn't like I could politely play the role of secretary and ask them to call back later.

However, seven rings later, I went against myself and answered.

"Edward, is that you?"

Mustang? Well, at least now I knew where the bastard was: somewhere other than his house.

"I can hear breathing, so it must be you. Listen, I'm sorry for running out on you like that. I had some things to check up on."

Considering it was only 10:00 in the morning, I really wondered just where it was he had to go. As if he could hear my disbelief to his explanation, he sighed defeated.

"All right. I went out and ended up getting myself drunk and am now terribly hung-over."

I felt the sudden urge to screech into the communication device on how much of an idiot he was. Honestly! Getting sick one night, and drunk the next.

"And, I found something out. Something I should have realized a while ago."

Heatedly, I have to admit that he sparked my interest with such vagueness.

"I read your journal."

Scratch that. I now felt the urge to kill him instead. Hadn't the guy ever heard of personal space and property?

"I know it was wrong of me to…"

Brilliant deduction, genius.

"… But I think I'm glad that I did. Remember you wrote of a dark, tall figure plummeting a bullet into your Mother's chest?"

How could he ask such a question? There was no way in hell's grace I could ever forget about that. Yet, why was he bringing it up?

"I know who it was."

To say that I peacefully and calmly accepted the situation with grace and poise would have been a blatant lie. In reality, I'd never felt so driven to hear the answer to a question.

"It was me."

In my delusion of thinking I heard wrong and wanting so badly to command him to tell me that he was wrong, lying, joking- something!

But I heard only a dial tone.

I fell down off the bed and to my knees, holding myself up in a detached way with my trembling arms.

He had to be lying.

And besides, he said that he'd been drunk and was hung-over, so maybe he didn't know what he was saying. There was always that possibility.

I had a brief flash of shocked blue eyes staring into mine over flames and dust, a gun in both of our hands.

Suddenly, I wasn't so confident on what I thought anymore.


I am not sure when it was that I picked myself off of the floor and left his house, definitely over an hour though.

And don't have the slightest clue where it was that I was headed.

I pretty much just wandered down the street brokenly, occasionally stumbling and stubbing my toe on a rock. Oh, I'd also been intelligent enough to forget my shoes.

This was known to me a while ago, but I was far enough away that I really did not care as much as I should have.

All this time, all these years I spent mourning over what had happened, thinking that if I had only done this, or had just said that, my Mom would be with us today.

And after hearing Mustang's blunt confession I couldn't justify my suffering over that time. Not only mine, but Al's too.

I paid little attention when a man appeared over the hill on the street, running behind me and calling for someone to 'stop'.

It wasn't as though I cared anyway. He was probably talking to someone else. Even though we were the only two on this block, minus a terrier sleeping on an old house's porch steps.

I continued my slow, dragging pace, not bothering to slow down or speed up. If the guy really wanted my autograph, he could wait in line. I was busy trying to sort out my life.

Admittedly, I snarled warningly when his hand came to rest on my shoulder.

How he had caught up to me so quickly, I was unsure.

"Geeze, kid. Are you deaf or something? I've been calling you to 'wait' over and over."

The man, dark short hair and glasses, panted excruciatingly while leaving his hand on me, as if taking it for support.

Really, if an old man was planning to dash wildly through the streets, he should take his age into consideration. (I ignored that he looked Mustang's age.)

"I wanted to know if your name's Edward Elric."

I turned to face him curiously, wondering if I knew him from somewhere.

"You are? Great! I've been lookin' around town for you for over an hour. I mean, I thought you'd be near Roy's house but I didn't think you'd get so far so quickly-"

His rambling abruptly tuned off in my ears after those few words.

He smiled sheepishly at me, "Say, how would you like something to drink?"


I sipped my strawberry milkshake semi-happily. Apparently, sugar really was the cure to all ailments, something on which would remind Al of later.

The man paid for my treat and cupped his hand around his steaming cappuccino. He seemed to have purchased it more for a stress relief than for thirst, taking into consideration the blistering heat outside.

He smiled at my obvious delight to the substance before coughing to get my attention back on the matter at hand.

"You probably don't know me, but my name is Maes Hughes."

Hughes. The guy that wrote on the back of Mustang's picture?

"See, Roy came stumbling into my house this morning, drunk as all hell, mumbling about killing someone. And eventually I got out enough information from him about you and what happened." Hughes sighed and pulled off his glasses, rubbing them softly on the fabric of his shirt.

"I heard him talking on my phone to someone, and I figured it had to be you. Then he left, just like that. And I imagine he told you something to make him leave, so I hunted you down."

I blinked slowly. He made himself sound like a stalker.

"I was on the force with Roy a few years back, and I know what happened with that robbery. Granted, I wasn't there, but I heard enough from those that were." Placing his spectacles back on, he took a long drink, drowning half of his cup. "And knowing Roy like I do, I imagine when he found out that was you from before he planned to disappear again and never speak to you."

Halting in my pleasurable drink, I stared at him long and hard. What he had just said was the exact thing I had been planning to do. I mean, I didn't blame Mustang for what happened. But…

Upon the look that had to have been on my face, he grimaced. "I see. Apparently, you two think alike."

I flinched slightly when he placed his hand over mine in a comforting gesture, "I just want you to know that Roy doesn't always explain things in the best way. He prefers to take all the blame for himself and shed little light on the actual situation."

Where have I heard that same description before?

"It was an honest accident, kid. And I know that doesn't make it right. Really, I do. But if we hadn't gotten that tip off, they never would have gone, and no one would have died."

I tilted my head, wondering what he was talking about. I'd always assumed that my Mom had called the police before she came, just for some sort of a back up. But, he made it sound as though it was someone else entirely. Had it been her, wouldn't they have known?

He looked a little surprised at my action, "You mean you weren't aware?"

I shook my head.

"Some suspicious caller phoned in telling us of a robbery taking place. The odd thing that we never found out who the guy was."

My mind suddenly slowed. He? The one who called was a man?

I felt very sick.

"Envy, where are you going?"

"Just hang on Chibi. I've got a call to make, won't be long. Just make sure those idiots don't damage anything they're loading and I'll be back in a minute." Envy trotted away to what I though was a payphone.

Correction, make that horribly sick.

Hughes leaned towards me, a concerned look plastered on his face, "Hey, you alright? You're kind of pale…"

No. I most certainly was not alright.

Knowing that no sound would come out, but for once not caring, I mouthed the word 'where?'

He seemed pleased and answered, "At the park."


When the sight of a field of grass and tress met me I nearly cried in delight.

How could I have been so stupid?

I blamed myself all that time, and apparently, Mustang did the very same thing. When really, the fault should have fallen on neither of us.

I vowed that if I was ever to see that fuck Envy again, I would rip his eyes out.

If it weren't for him, I would have a living Mother. If it weren't for him, my brother and I wouldn't have to be scared of the face of our Father. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be a fucking mute!

My anger boiled away as I saw Mustang, swinging slowly on the swing I had sat on from our previous visit here.

I walked up behind him quietly and stood, taking note of his slumped form.

Grinning despite his depression I reached my hands out and pushed him.

The swing swung quite far for my small declaration of being so close to he, who was much larger and heavier than I.

His head craned back in surprise, and seemed to be trying to say something as he dug his feet into the dirt.

To prevent strained muscles in his neck, I came around to in front of him and stared at his shocked face.

"What are you doing here?" At least he was getting some bearings on what was happening.

But, rather than try to answer, I did something I had not done to anyone else with such sincere meaning, not even to Al.

I placed my finger at my lips and touched his chest, just left of his heart.

If it weren't for Envy, this man I before me would not be so lost.

He looked quite baffled by the gesture, so I settled to wrapping my arms around him to get the message across better.

And paid no mind of him returning the gesture shakily.


Mustang graciously walked me home, though I repeatedly signalled to him that I didn't need a babysitter, which he seemed to find very amusing. And proceeded to say that I was short enough to be mistaken for a child in need of one. As I said the first day I met him: a bastard.

He followed me up to our front door to my curiosity.

I didn't fully understand until he pulled me into a kiss.

Not a chaste one on the forehead or cheek like before. Oh no…

A full fledged tongue battling kiss that left my head spinning.

And I was so happy to think that the moment had been so different from what Envy and I had shared.

There was a large difference between lust and some other emotion. In which I wasn't quite ready to consider yet.

Breaking apart from him, and sorely missing the contact, I entered my house and left a small wave to him, passing by Al in the process.

I entered the kitchen and stole one of Al's green mints before heading to the living room.

As I walked past the door again, I discreetly listened to what they were talking about.

"What does… this mean?"

"Did Brother do that to you?"

"Yes, he did."

"Well, he does that to show he's sorry."

When the door closed and Mustang left I paid no heed to it, and was prepared to watch some television. After that passionate little display on our porch, I can honestly say that my prodigy brain wasn't aware enough to do something that required real thinking.

So I settled to turning the corner to the mindless device.

And now that I think about it, I barely even felt the fist collide with the side of my face.


AN: . REVIEWS! Thank you to all of you wonderful people for last chapter. Because of your diligent loyalty, I have presented you with an update twice as fast as I normally would have done.

With this in mind, I hope it was good enough to follow the last, and would like your opinions.