Chapter 10

The crisp morning light effortlessly filled the room as rain softly drizzled down against the window and birds chirped in the distance. Their song lightened the air, as if to help fight back to gloom that had been accompanying the long lasting dreary weather.

Ed was mildly surprised when he opened his eyes and didn't see the plain wall that he had familiarized himself with since he first took up Mustang's guest room. Instead, he was staring at the dark wood of a bed frame from a makeshift nest made of blankets and pillows on the ground.

He nearly forgot that he ended up on Mustang's floor... But before Ed could really consider how weird that was, a new, more important thought struck him in the head with enough strength to encourage a small smile to spread across his face.

He slept.

He slept.

He actually fell asleep for several hours straight and woke up without having a panic attack. He couldn't quite remember what he dreamt about, but he wasn't going to complain. Edward could recall brief images of blood and rain through his minds eye, but they were already mostly forgotten. If he had to guess, then Ed would say that he slept too deeply to dream as vividly as he usually did.

It was incredible- unfathomable- and so refreshing. A conglomeration of nameless emotions created something else that Ed hadn't felt in what seemed like a long time. But overall, he was happy, relieved, content- the list went on as he found himself unable to give it a single label.

He always knew that he would undoubtedly get some sleep at some point- whether it was because his problems were solved or because his body simply gave out- but he was grateful all the same. There were always more unrealistic fears that told him he would never experience true rest again; and that was terrifying. To feel that painful exhaustion that made his eyes ache and his head throb every day and to be unable to trust his own limbs with simple tasks sounded like a form of torture. It was a concern that came to mind more frequently with every passing day.

But after last night, a fraction of the worries that weighted him down lifted; it was small and insignificant in comparison, but it was something. It was there, and he felt it, and he was so glad. Because he slept.

But this didn't entirely solve his sleep deprivation problems. His body still begged for more, but he knew that it was impossible for the time being. His brain was already spinning, and it would be impossible to shut it down. His eyes were sore, and it wouldn't be surprising if they were still bloodshot as well.

The blond pushed himself into a sitting position and examined the pile of blankets that he had created for himself the night before. For a moment, he idly wondered if he should sleep on the ground from now on, but already knew that that's not what he had to thank for the restful night.

Ed reached to grab hold of the end of the bed frame and pulled himself up to look over it. He wasn't sure if he should have been surprised or not to see Mustang sitting/laying awkwardly against the headboard with his head lowered to his chest. He had nothing more than the clothes on his back and a blanket covering his lower legs to protect him from the cold morning air. Judging by how his eyes moved rapidly below his eyelids and the strain that was vaguely evident on his visage, Ed couldn't quite tell if the man was awake or not- perhaps he was in some strange stage in between.

His presence had to be the only reason that Edward got any sleep at all. As hesitant as he was to admit it, there was no other logical explanation. Mustang stayed awake through the entire night simply to fulfill the young Elric's childish need to not be alone. He wanted to reprove himself for allowing it to happen in the first place, but he couldn't argue with the results.

But the question remained: why?

Why would Mustang sacrifice his own sleep in his own home for Ed's sake? Would he do the same in that position?

He used to for Al. Just after he transferred his brother's soul into the suit of armor, he tried to stay up with Alphonse once they learned that he was incapable of falling asleep. It wasn't fair that only Al should suffer in such ways because of Ed's mistake. If he couldn't end his suffering, then the least he could do was share it. However, that was until Alphonse insisted that he stopped, which was an idea that his body was all too eager to agree to.

Edward stood up straight and glanced at the window, noting that the curtains were pulled to the sides and the blinds were cracked open enough to allow the light in. Mustang must have done that once the sun rose. Ed let it be since they were on the second floor, then looked back over to his superior officer.

He looked extremely uncomfortable. He wasn't quite sitting up, but his upper back and shoulder blades were still leaning back on the headboard; his neck was probably going to kill him once he was fully awake.

Ed bit his lip, wondering what he was supposed to do now. They had created a system of Mustang waking up first and preparing breakfast, but this put a wrench in the pattern. He supposed he could try to make something for himself. Surely Mustang would much rather get some sleep than cook at the moment anyway.

But regardless, Edward couldn't stand to walk away just yet. He had to repay the man for overlooking last night somehow.

Ed walked around the corner of the bed and hesitated for a moment as he looked down at the colonel again. His gaze then trailed over to the side table, where a small folded note was sitting precariously on the edge. He began to unfold it out of curiosity, but the events from several hours prior stopped him in his tracks before he could finish.

He set the paper back down, convinced that it was the message sent from Riece. Simply thinking about it began to revive a briefly forgotten fear. Ed shut his eyes and forced the trepidation down as best he could. There was nothing to worry about. He wasn't going to come back. At least, that's what Mustang said, but he suddenly felt more inclined to believe the man's words than ever before.

"Colonel," he began but his voice came out as a whisper. The man stirred slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hey. Mustang." He poked his shoulder.

A tired groan formed in the man's throat as he rose his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He blinked and squint at the blond until his eyes decided to cooperate. "Yeah?" he eventually muttered, just as he did several times the night before, albeit groggily.

"It's morning," he continued, figuring that he should have planned what he was going to say before starting. "You should get some rest now." Mustang had been telling Ed to rest for days now, and now it was finally his turn to return the favor. How ironic.

Mustang watched him blankly for a moment, then looked towards the window. After a few seconds, he yawned and nodded simultaneously as he pulled a pillow closer to him. But before he could move further, the man paused and intently turned his heavy gaze back towards the teenager.

"Did you get any-" he yawned again, cutting himself off.

"Yeah, I did," Ed answered for him, allowing a thin smile despite himself. "Thanks."

Mustang smiled faintly in return and continued to get himself in a more comfortable position. "Great. There's food in the uh- the... the kitchen," he murmured slowly as he emanated exhaustion.

"Gotcha."

The older alchemist shifted into a more natural position and buried his head on the pillow to block out the light within a few short seconds. Ed stood there for a moment more before deciding that he really wanted to leave.

The blond moved towards the door and paused to make sure that he wasn't going to walk into the wall again before stepping into the hallway. But before he could get far, the memory of the makeshift nest on Mustang's floor appeared in his mind. Ed turned back around and crept back into the room as stealthily as he could manage to pick up the mess. Mustang seemed to be out-cold already, so he began to lift the pile of blankets into his arms. He didn't want the older alchemist to wake up and be reminded of Ed's pathetic display the night before; maybe if there was no evidence of it, he would just forget about it. But as he was struggling to get a decent grasp on the fabrics, he unconsciously found himself looking at the window, then at Mustang, then at the window again.

Once he stopped to consider it, the older alchemist did look like he was battling the sunlight, judging by the way he pressed his face as closely to the pillow as possible without suffocating. With a heavy sigh, Edward dropped the blankets from his arms and stepped over them to reach the window. After one quick glance outside, he tightened the blinds and pulled the curtains shut, effectively blocking out the dim sunlight. Mustang had visibly relaxed as soon as he did so

Ed assumed that the colonel had opened them earlier to ensure that Ed didn't sleep in until noon, or maybe just to keep himself as awake as possible. But either way, he clearly didn't have the energy or the mind to get up himself and shut out the light. Upon seeing his reaction, Ed was glad he had taken the time to do it for him.

He told himself that he was just repaying the dept. Equivalent exchange.

He told himself the same thing when he grabbed hold of the blanket that had been kicked to the edge of the bed, and pulled it up to Mustang's shoulders. Besides a new calmness that seemed to wash over him, there was no other reaction.

Ed decided that he should get out of there before the ever-growing sense of embarrassment swallowed him whole. He heaved the nest of blankets again and staggered out into the hall and into the guest room, all while trying and failing to keep himself from thinking about the past five minutes.

He didn't quite know why he did that. Perhaps he just had the impression that Mustang would do the same for him, despite that being terribly out of character for the man he thought he had known for three years now. But then again, his original understanding of the colonel had been proven wrong time and time again within the last few days.

Besides, he didn't really want to risk messing with the heater, since he wasn't the one paying the bills. There simply wasn't any good reason to leave the colonel as he was, considering what he endured for Ed's sake. It just made sense. And he had already passed out beforehand- there was no need to justify his actions to Mustang, or himself for that matter.

Just forget about it and move on.

The teenager carelessly dropped the bundle of blankets and pillows back onto the guest bed, lacking the energy to spread them out. With that done, he stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him, then trekked down the stairs.

Now he just had to figure out how exactly he was going to fend for himself with Mustang out of commission.

Not a problem.

But where to start...

He usually went to the cafeteria at the dorms or went out to eat. Al would occasionally whip something together when they had a kitchen to work with, despite being unable to taste any of it, so it was fair to say that Ed didn't have a whole lot of personal experience when it came to cooking.

He knew enough to get by, but working with an unfamiliar kitchen while the owner of said kitchen was asleep felt a bit strange.

After rummaging through the fridge for a few minutes, he settled for just pouring a bowl of cold cereal for himself. It wasn't the most sustainable choice, but he didn't really want to dirty the colonel's pots and pans. Plus, his motivation to actually cook something died once he saw the carton of milk sitting next to the eggs. It took all of his willpower just to keep himself from throwing the vile liquid out the window.

Edward ate in silence in his usual seat at the table, staring lazily at the opposing wall of the kitchen, tracing the shadows that hit it with his eyes. There wasn't exactly much else to look at anyway.

After days of the same routine, it was strange to suddenly be sitting by himself in the morning. Based off of his recent behavior, Ed was somewhat surprised that he didn't mind being alone, but something told him that that was only the case because he knew it wasn't permanent. Besides, Mustang was right; Riece wasn't coming back. He wasn't going to break into the house and throw another ominous note in Ed's face, then run back to taunt his victory to Al. Of course not. That wasn't...

Ed forced his gaze back down to the table before his mind could come up with any more unreasonable scenarios.

After emptying the bowl, he dropped it into the sink and went into the living room in search of some way to kill time. He was beginning to accept that he couldn't make any true progress on finding Al unless he had some assistance; in this case, Mustang. As much as he hated the fact, there was nothing he could do about it. Since he probably had a few hours to wait until the man woke up, Ed had a lot of time to do nothing.

He flipped the lights on, filling the originally darkened room with light as the blinds were still closed shut. Edward immediately noticed the radio sitting on the coffee table, but any thoughts of turning it on were instantly snuffed. He didn't want to risk hearing news broadcasters talking about him; he didn't want to know what the world thought about him.

It seemed that the only other thing to do was hole himself back in Mustang's study for hours on end.

Fine by him.

Edward had decided that he might as well continue his ever-going research on the illusive Philosopher's Stone and stepped into the miniature library. He picked himself out a nice stack of the oldest books he could find within the selection that he hadn't read before, and sat down on the large, comfortable chair in the corner.

His chances of finding any new information were slim, but it was always worth a shot. Besides, there was nothing else to do and he wanted to immerse himself in something to keep his other thoughts away.

Ed must have been sitting there for at least a few hours without finding much of note. However, the book he currently had opened briefly mentioned one of the many names for the stone. There was doubt that it would lead into anything useful, but he figured that he should at least note the title and the page for future reference, especially if it happened to go into greater detail later on.

After taking a moment to memorize the necessary information, the blond set the tome down to the side and made his way over to the desk in search for something to write it down with. But before he could open the first drawer, this eyes fell on the contents on the desk's surface and he paused all movement.

Hero of the People Accused of Murder

A small stack of newspapers were pushed into the corner of the desk, all in which were flipped to pages that mentioned him or Victor Tresler.

Ed had never taken the time to actually look at what covered the desk before, but now that he had, he wished that he didn't.

As he hesitantly shifted through the pages, he saw many pictures of himself, the man who had visited him multiple times in nightmares, and revealing photos of the crime scene.

He had been avoiding the newspapers in general ever since the day after that night. As cowardly as it was, he didn't want to be faced with the reality of his actions in plain, emotionless black and white text. For that very reason, he wanted to push the collection of newspapers away and pretend that he never laid eyes on them, but something stopped him. A pointless stubbornness refused to let him as it urged him to read the articles and face the truth already.

There was most likely nothing the papers could tell him that he didn't already know, considering that he was there during the incident- but that wasn't what stopped him from putting them down and walking away. As silly as it seemed, part of Edward's mind just wanted to prove to himself that he could. After keeping a distance from all radios and newspapers for almost two weeks straight, he had become exhausted of running away. He was exhausted of feeling so weak.

It would be a small victory, similar to the other night when he forced himself to open the front door only to see Riece staring back at him. But it was a victory all the same. There was nothing to fear. There was nothing to hide from. Ed refused to remain ignorant any longer.

The young alchemist chose one of the excerpts at random and skimmed through it, eyes picking out each familiar name or anything that particularly stuck out. He found himself reading over one specific section multiple times to clarify that he understood correctly.

What he thought he read simply didn't make sense. It just didn't add up. It went against everything that he thought he knew.

The multiple charities and relief programs that Victor had founded will be passed down to his eldest son, as requested in his will.

Edward was lead to believe that Tresler was a selfish, indulging person who didn't give a damn for other human beings. So why did the paper say that he founded charities?

"I just don't understand who would do such a thing," Victor's wife, Cindy Tresler said though tears during an interview. "My husband was such a kind man. He didn't make enemies; it simply wasn't possible."

Ed felt sick.

A wave of nausea rushed over him and his chest felt hollow. His stomach lurched with unease, forcing him to place an unsteady hand on the back of the desk chair.

This didn't make any sense. Victory Tresler wasn't a good person! He couldn't have been. Because if he was, then that just made Ed guilty of something much worse than he originally thought.

A person's character did not matter when it came to life or death. Causing the death of a bad person was still murder, but causing the death of a good, innocent person was just... worse.

The newspaper slipped from Ed's shaken hands as he staggered backwards, blindly searching for the leather chair. Before he could reach it, his legs gave out and fell into the seat, mind spinning. He rubbed his eyes but the images and voices of that night flooded back regardless. The night he had been deceived and lied to.

"There's no need to hesitate," Riece mollified in a sympathetic and almost concerned tone. Edward returned it by glaring daggers at the man. "If anyone is deserving of death, it's Victory Tresler. Perhaps you've heard of him. He's a demon hiding under the guise of a saint. The world sees him as a charitable person, but he secretly has quite the reputation underground."

Ed remained silent, refusing to so much as humor Riece with a response. His hands twitched at his sides, wanting nothing more than to punch that man in the jaw. He just wanted to get Al and get out of the warehouse.

"I only know this because I once got the opportunity to work rather closely with him," the older man continued factually. "But just like everyone else who gets too close to him, I ended up suffering because of it."

"So this is for revenge?" The blond snapped, lacing his voice with disgust.

Riece lit up, thoroughly amused. "Revenge? Oh, no, it's nothing like that. I'm not one to hold grudges anyway. This is just something that needs to happen. I don't expect you to understand this, so don't worry about it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But you must agree that Tresler is of no benefit to humanity. He infects everything he touches. Clearly, society cannot allow him to continuously cause harm everywhere he goes. Therefor, he must be taken care of."

Riece smiled strangely once again, his eyes burning with a barely-contained excitement. "And I've decided that you will be the one to carry it out."

He was such an idiot.

Edward was a fool for believing him. He should have looked into it himself- he should have researched Tresler.

But who was he kidding? A time limit was put into place, leaving him severely crippled and unable to do much else. Or else Al's life would be at risk. And he just couldn't allow that.

Ed cringed at his own thought process. How dare he try to justify his actions like that? Death was death. Murder was murder.

However, he would do anything for Al. If it came down to it, his brother would say the very same, despite the fact that each of them would tell the other not to.

The blond wrapped his arms around the arm of the chair and stared blankly at the floor as he fought to keep the nausea at bay, wondering what this new piece of information changed.

It should change absolutely nothing. What's done was done, and there wasn't a single thing Ed could do about it besides sulk. If it didn't change anything in the eyes of the public, then nothing should change for him either. In fact, it could easily just make things worse on his end.

What if he tried to convince someone that he wasn't guilty because someone lied and told him that Tresler was a criminal? It would sound pathetic. Of course he was guilty! It didn't take a genius to figure that much out.

He vaguely noticed the click of the doorknob turning and the creak of the door hinges twisting.

Ed never had any hope of justifying himself in the first place.

"Fullmetal?"

He didn't deserve to.

"Ed?"

A shadow of movement flickered across his vision, drawing the alchemist's attention away from his brooding. Mustang stood in the doorway, his hair in tired disarray as he watched Edward with a disquiet air. For once, Ed didn't bother to round up a sense of false composure at the sight of company. Instead, he leaned back against the chair's arm and allowed his gaze to drop.

He knew he should put more effort into covering up his emotions, knowing that questions were soon to follow if he didn't. In spite of that, he lacked the strength. The information that a good, well-liked family man had died because of him sapped him of his energy.

"Are you alright?" the colonel needlessly asked as he allowed his hand to drop from the doorknob.

Ed looked up at the older alchemist for a moment, unable to find the will to answer his question. Overall, he should have been fine. This new revelation should have meant nothing. But instead of telling him that, the blond rested his cheek against the side of the chair as his eyes subconsciously landed on the desk across the room.

Roy followed his gaze. After a soundless moment, he noticed the disheveled pile of newspapers. "Oh yeah; we're still trying to figure out the motive behind Tresler's murder." He must have assumed that Ed was upset by the case's lack of progress.

A small, pained sound formed at the base of Ed's throat as if he had just been punched. All of the answers were sitting right under Mustang's nose, but he was too confident and trusting in Ed to realize it. How was the colonel going to react when he learned the truth? How could Edward dare to remain in his house after what he had done; and after refusing to cooperate with the search? He didn't deserve to stay.

"He didn't have any known enemies, and no one gained anything because of his death. It's unlikely that his family wanted him dead, partially because of how distraught they were."

"Stop." The word escaped Ed's lips before he could put a fraction of thought into it.

"What?" Mustang asked after a beat. He didn't seem offended for being interrupted, or even particularly confused. If anything, he just wanted clarification.

Ed exhaled as he stopped to consider what exactly it was that he wanted. "Stop talking."

There was a pause, filled only by the gentle tapping of rainwater against the window pane. Mustang stepped further into the study, pushing the door almost closed behind him, leaving it slightly ajar. He settled into the desk chair, keeping a calm, unreadable stare on Ed. They remained in silence for several minutes.

It wasn't awkward, strained silence that Edward had expected. It was almost soothing to sit there quietly with another person, listening only to the rainfall and the low, almost inaudible sounds of breathing.

Ed didn't hate the rain as Mustang did. He wasn't too particularly fond of it, especially lately, but when it was soft and harmless as it was in that moment, it reminded him of the simpler times in Resembool. During the monsoon season, it would often rain steadily for several days straight, but it wasn't violent enough to truly interfere with their everyday lives. There was a charm to it. He remembered sitting by the window with his mother and Al, watching the waves of gray stretch out across the sky as far as the eye could see, carefully watering the land. Sometimes a fire was burning in the fireplace, and sometimes there wasn't.

Even as he looked out towards the dark, cold outside world, the house was always warm, especially with Mom there. He always felt safe back then. He felt safe...

Wait. What?

Stop.

Edward blinked and pushed the fond memories away. Those days had nothing to do with his current situation. There was no correlation between then and now, especially since he was in Mustang's house; his superior officer.

Ed glanced over to the man, who was staring solemnly into space in his own thoughts. Recognizing the eyes on him, he returned the blond's stare.

"How did you sleep?" Roy asked suddenly, bringing all thought away from the earlier topic. He spoke with a controlled, tired calmness, but he seemed genuinely curious.

"... Fine," Ed replied after a beat of hesitation. His response felt like an understatement considering the overwhelming gratitude he felt as soon as he woke up. He was just happy to get any sleep at all. In actuality, fine was the most accurate description if he were to compare it to how he usually slept before all of this began.

"Good to hear it," Mustang answered easily with a smile in his tone, apparently unfazed by the mediocre answer. "Did you get anything to eat?"

He blinked wordlessly at the colonel, reveling in how strange it was to hear him ask about such normal things. They had been sharing space for a few days now, but he was beginning to doubt he would ever get used to it. It didn't sound natural to hear those casual words in Mustang's voice.

Nonetheless, he nodded. "Yeah. Cereal," he answered the unasked question. Mustang responded with a short hmm of acknowledgment, undoubtedly thinking of what else to say.

Meanwhile, Ed's thoughts strayed straight back to the true matter at hand.

Mustang still thought he was innocent.

He may have claimed that Edward wasn't a criminal, but what the hell did he know? He didn't know the truth; he didn't know anything. And yet, Ed still had the audacity to take up a room in his house. He was given all the time in the world to admit the truth, but he refused to even consider it.

It was selfish.

He was selfish.

He was trapped on a slope, given only one direction to go: down. As much as he hated it, his only choice was to begrudgingly follow the path set out before him until the bitter end, and do his very best to hold onto the baseless hope that there may be another path or two before he crashed at the bottom.

But until then, he couldn't do anything else besides endure for as long as he could. If that meant being a selfish coward, then so be it.

Unable to bare his own treacherous thoughts any longer, he leaned over the side of the chair and picked up another book, almost forgetting that he wasn't alone anymore.

When Edward started reading again, he brought a swift end to any and all possible conversations. Roy remained where he was for several minutes, mind spinning with questions and possible solutions, wanting nothing more than to just open the kid's head, find whatever was bothering him, and fix it all in one single motion.

But nothing could ever be that easy.

By the time he finally woke up again, it was nearing noon. Overall, he didn't get much more than a few hours of rest, but it would have to do.

As lunchtime grew closer, he decided to use that as an excuse to interrupt Fullmetal's reading, but his attempt failed to bare fruit. Either Ed had a large breakfast, or he lost his appetite. Roy doubted it was the former, considering the spotless state of his kitchen.

At first, he thought Ed was simply perturbed by seeing his name in the papers and the many accusations that were within them, but that hypothesis didn't quite add up. It wasn't a secret that the rest of the country currently suspected him to be guilty, so seeing it in print shouldn't have been particularly impacting.

Perhaps he was distracted by the memory of Riece showing up the night before. It was definitely unsettling and that would explain Ed's sudden withdrawn demeanor, but that wasn't the impression Roy got when he decided to mention it. He reminded the kid that Riece wasn't going to come back, but Ed just muttered a distracted "I know that" without sparing the colonel a glance.

He was at a loss.

When he got a phone call later in the afternoon, he was expecting the worse, judging how the rest of the day had gone so far. However, he was thrown off when it was Hughes asking to meet him at their usual bar for a drink.

Ideally, he should have turned the offer down since he was playing sick, but at the time, alcohol sounded incredibly inviting. When they made plans to meet around seven, Roy re-entered the study and told Ed. Or at least, he tried to tell Ed. The kid was immersed in a book and didn't give the colonel much of an audible response, no matter how he tried to get his attention. Although, he didn't try particularly hard to do so. He figured that the blond would be in the very same state by the time he got back, so he left it at that and walked out the door.

Roy didn't want to admit that he was getting used to the constant stream of rainfall. Without so much as thinking about it, he grabbed a heavy coat and an umbrella before walking out, covering himself immediately as he approached his car. He caught a glimpse of his misting breath on his way across the sidewalk and wondered if the rain would turn into snow soon.

The car ride consisted of him absentmindedly cursing the weather for slowing down traffic, and reminding himself not to mention anything pertaining to Ed's appearance to Hughes. As far as he knew, the kid was still missing along with his brother. Although, he wasn't too worried about giving anything anyway; after years of being a servant to the government, he had long since learned to avoid loose lips, especially when beer was involved.

After a roughly ten minute long drive, Roy stepped into the bar and was immediately greeted with laughter, music and very dim lighting. It was just as crowded as he expected it to be on a Saturday night.

Maes was sitting at the counter, eyeing the selection and talking to the bartender, appearing oblivious to the chaotic world around him. Roy wordlessly approached and took the next seat over.

"Hey," he greeted sounding just as devoid of energy as he felt. The few hours of sleep he managed to get that morning had already caught up with him, but it certainly wasn't something he hadn't dealt with before.

"How are you feeling?" Maes asked, swiveling the bar stool slightly as he directed his attention towards his friend. He had a faint smile on his face, which had more or less become his most natural expression over the years.

"Tired," he answered truthfully, eyes falling forward to rest on the extensive selection of beverages that lined the wall of the back bar.

"I can see that," the lieutenant colonel replied easily as he moved to rest his elbows on the counter. "At first, I thought you were just trying to get out of doing paperwork, but you really do look pretty drained. I'm surprised you decided to take me up on my offer in the first place. I usually have to drag you, kicking and screaming."

Roy chuckled despite himself. He really couldn't get anything passed Hughes, it seemed. "Yeah, well... I owe you a drink anyway."

Maes' smile was overtaken by curiosity and he quirked an eyebrow. "What for?"

The alchemist stifled another small laugh as he waved the bartender back over. "Doesn't matter," he said vaguely and switched focus to place the order.

Roy idly decided that he would buy Maes a drink as soon as his friend made it perfectly clear that he was aware that secrets were being kept from the team. Not only did Hughes keep the others out of his suspicions, he also made it known that he wasn't going to pry. He trusted that Roy knew what he was doing, and decided to leave it to him for the time being- and for that, he was incredibly thankful.

It sounded silly in hindsight, but part of Roy figured that neither Maes or Riza would trust him to keep his secrets from everyone because nothing liked to go his way when it was raining. Anyone could take the weather as a bad omen or something equally ridiculous, and use it as an excuse to pry.

But that wasn't the case; both of them had reason to believe that he knew something about Edward's whereabouts that he refused to disclose, but they had both chosen sit back for the time being.

They likely didn't even realize the full extent of how reassuring that was.

He took a grateful sip from the mug of beer that had been placed before him. "So what's been happening at HQ lately?" Roy asked, party to change the topic and partly because he was curious. Missing time at work was always risky; a lot could occur in two days.

Maes sat back in the bar stool and stiffly rolled his shoulder, giving Roy a peculiar look as he seemed to be debating something with himself. The Flame Alchemist narrowed his eyes at the brief stalling, waiting to get an answer as he began to expect the worst.

"Well," his friend drawled. "The higher-ups decided that Ed's involvement with the Tresler Murder case is bad for publicity, so they want to find him and settle the dispute as soon as possible."

"What's there to dispute?" Roy cut in rhetorically. "It's obvious that Fullmetal isn't guilty. This would probably be over by now if they'd try to find the real culprit."

Maes smiled mirthlessly. "You know that's not how it works."

Roy sighed, because he did know that. They wouldn't search for the true guilty party until the person who is suspected is found. But with that said, he still had every right to complain to his heart's content- when he wasn't on the clock, that is.

"And anyway, there's more," Hughes continued as the alchemist glanced back at him. "They're really starting to buckle down on the search; it seems like another colonel might officially join the case."

"What?" Roy demanded and straightened up. Fullmetal was directly involved, and he was his subordinate. He had no interest in sharing the case with anyone. He had things perfectly under control, even if it didn't seem like it to anyone else but him... If he was forced to work with another colonel in order to progress, then they wouldn't get anywhere at all. "Why didn't anyone tell me about this until now?"

"I just heard about it yesterday afternoon," Maes answered with a shrug. "I told Riza and she probably told the rest of your staff. I thought about calling you last night, but I figured that nothing could be done about it at the time, and you needed the rest."

Great. Just great. The one time he pretends to be sick in order to get out of work, this happens. Just his luck.

Well, at least he was at a bar.

Roy huffed and took a gulp of his beer, quietly seething as the new dose of information sunk in. If the generals had decided that they wanted more people working on this case, then there was nothing he could do about it, especially since their precious public image was put at risk.

Thunder rolled in the background amungst the voices of the other occupants, threatening him with a painfully familiar sense of uselessness. But he couldn't relent to it just yet- he could still make the most out of this.

It was slow going, but he was steadily getting Fullmetal to open up. With enough time, he was certain that he could figure out the truth behind Tresler's death.

"Oh, and there's one more thing," Maes started again after clearing his throat. He looked at Roy carefully as if he was preparing for a bomb to go off.

Roy's evident annoyance dropped into a deadpan expression as he awaited more bad news. "What?"

"They've also decided to start looking within the ranks in order to find Edward."

Roy paused with his mouth gaping open slightly as he struggled to find the words to properly express the frustration and shock that mixed within his mind.

"Why?"

Maes took a moment to drink from his mug. "I'm not sure if you know this, since you got sick at the same time, but there has been a pretty steady stream of sightings of him since the murder until two days ago. They completely stopped. As far as anyone at Central is aware, Edward is only familiar with military personnel, so rumors are going around that one of us is secretly harboring him."

Roy broke his stare away from his friend in favor of glaring at the golden liquid before him.

He was a fool.

He knew that people would notice the decrease in sightings as soon as he ushered Ed into his house, but he didn't expect them to turn to look within the military so quickly. He thought he would have more than two measly days to deal with that issue.

It seemed like Central Command was all too eager to point fingers at each other. Decrease the competition, he thought grimly.

Roy turned his gaze back to Hughes, who he caught watching him carefully in the corner of his eye. He timely covered it up by taking another sip of his beer, as a new concern flickered within the colonel's mind:

Did Maes piece it all together? It certainly wouldn't take a genius at this point... He had been absent from work for two days now, the exact same time that the sightings of Fullmetal had completely ceased. Once he stopped to think about it, it became painfully clear that anyone with half a brain could figure it out.

But Maes wasn't a threat. In fact, he wasn't even a concern. If his friend did discern that Roy was the one harboring Edward, he would never put either of them at risk. Worst case scenario, he would try to butt in and help.

No, the real threat was everyone else at Central Command who was staying up to date on the case in general.

He shouldn't have missed both days. He allowed his concern for Ed's well-being to interfere with his work and the greater scheme of things, and he was now paying the price. It sounded heartless when he put it like that, but he was doing all of this in the first place because of his concern for Ed. While he wanted to be there for the kid in times like these, Roy would be left with nothing if he started to slack off at work.

It won't happen again.

He would just have to put twice the effort into the case in order to draw suspicion away from him.

With that decided, he ordered another drink.

Roy fumbled with his key ring until he managed to open the door, expecting the lights to be off and for the house to be devoid of life, just as he had left it. Edward was most likely still cooped up in the study, lost in his own little world of alchemy.

He was mildly surprised to see that the living room and kitchen lights were on, however. He hadn't quite noticed before when he was walking up the driveway thanks to how tightly the window's blinds were shut, but didn't think much of it.

It was getting quite late and he was absolutely exhausted, so Roy decided that he would bid Ed a good night and head upstairs to finally get some much-anticipated sleep. He pushed open the door to the study and stood in the doorway for several long seconds, checking the room over multiple times to ensure that his eyes weren't simply playing tricks on him.

Ed wasn't there. His neat stack of alchemy books remained at the foot of the large leather chair, but there was no sight of the blond. Even though the pleasant buzz had long since fled from his head, Roy couldn't bring himself to get worked up over it just yet.

Before he had the time to consider the other possibilities of the teen's whereabouts, a rush of uneven footsteps from upstairs settled all unspoken worries. Roy gently pushed himself away from the door frame and made for the staircase, but a quickening flurry of steps charging down the stairs caused him to stop where he was, lest he get trampled.

A frantic Edward Elric tore down the stairs and skid to the stop, nearly sliding off balance. He flailed his arms to keep himself upright then jabbed an accusing, shaken finger at the colonel. Roy returned his stare by looking unfazed, yet slightly confused.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Ed demanded, his very voice tremulous with manic fear.

Oh.

Sensing a full blown conversation, Roy turned and sat down at the one of the sofas that centered his living room, watching Fullmetal from across the coffee table.

"I tried to tell you that I was heading out for a bit," he answered, feeling the need to defend himself as if he was being reproved by a nagging housewife.

"You could have tried a little harder," Ed exclaimed as he exasperatedly ran a hand through his hair. "I thought you died or something!"

Roy stared at him incredulously. "What?"

"I- I dunno know. I mean, anything could have happened and I- just don't disappear like that!" he stammered but the tension was beginning to sink out of his shoulders.

"Then maybe you should listen when people are talking to you."

Edward glared at him and fumed quietly for a moment. "Maybe I would, if you weren't such a bastard."

Roy easily overlooked the insult as a new thought occurred to him, tempting a victorious grin to stretch across his face. "Wait- you were worried about me?" If Ed was led to believe that something bad happened to him and became so panicked because of it, then that had to be the only explanation.

Fullmetal immediately flushed. "I was not!"

The colonel's knowing smile widened. "You were and you know it. There's no denying it now, Fullmetal."

The kid's aghast expression swiftly returned to a glare. "Are you drunk?"

Roy chuckled at his expense, but decided not to answer. It would be simpler for Ed to believe that he was intoxicated, even though that wasn't the actuality. He and Maes made sure to wait for the effects of the alcohol to wear down before driving back to their homes. Thankfully, they didn't have too much.

"How did you know I was drinking?"

Ed grinned smugly. "So I was right," he observed almost under his breath. "I can smell it."

"Really," he mused for a moment, leaning back in the couch. "Well for future reference, if I'm ever gone around this time, it's probably for the same reason."

"Or you can just let me know next time," the blond glowered.

"How do I know you'll listen next time?"

"I will, if it'll spare me from another conversation like this."

Roy smirked to himself, fully enjoying the irritated bite in Fullmetal's voice and the scowl on his face. It had been a while since they did any of the usual banter and- if he were to be quite honest with himself- he was beginning to miss it.

"Well, I'm here now," he breathed as he stretched his arms out, longing to get upstairs and pass out on his comfortable bed. But speaking of sleep... Roy looked up at Ed, who remained standing on the other side of the table. He looked tired, but that didn't mean much these days, considering how he always looked tired. "Do you think you'll be able to get any sleep tonight?"

As relieved as he was that Ed managed to get some rest the night before, that didn't automatically solve all of their problems. And he doubted he was alone in thinking that he'd rather not let the whole sleeping-on-his-floor thing become a habit.

"Maybe."

"Ed," Roy started, giving the kid a hard stare to tacitly tell him that he wasn't just asking as a pleasantry. He truly wanted to know, because they were both aware that he wouldn't do nothing about it if the answer was no.

Ed's golden eyes fell to the ground as he seriously contemplated the question once more. "I think... it's possible."

Roy kept his gaze on the teenager to see if he would continue. But when his stare was returned with silence, he shrugged and assumed that that was the best he was going to get. From the sounds of it, he guessed that Ed would actually try to get some sleep, but figured that it wouldn't last long.

One step at a time.

"Well," he began and yawned, then pushed himself up from the sofa. "Let me know if you need anything." His offer was sincere, but he highly doubted that Ed would actually take him up on it anytime soon.

Nonetheless, he rounded the table when Fullmetal nodded tersely. As he passed Ed on his way to the stairs, he absentmindedly ruffled the boy's hair, failing to notice his stunned expression that was left in his wake as he disappeared from sight for the night.

AN: sorry for the wait! I'm at a convention for a the weekend and time was short. I wish I had more time to revise this chapter but I'll have to go through it again later.

Thanks for reading!