Sorry, I'm running short of ideas...I managed to come up with this while attempting my Global History project during a free class. I hope you like it, I've been getting really depressed lately, it's slowing me down.

Sorry I had to heighten the rating, just in case.

Rebecca glanced nervously around the room, and pulled a strand of hair behind an ear. Roy waited, his expression quickly shifted from being calm and patient to a creepy glare. Rebecca felt herself jump.

"I came here to talk to Edward," she replied, staring at the floral pattern on the tablecloth. "And there is a front door," Roy added, glancing oddly at the flowers, wondering briefly why they looked so interesting to her.

"That floral pattern has been passed down in the Armstrong family for generations upon generations!" Armstrong suddenly stood between them beside the table, flexing his muscles. The sparkles threatened to overwhelm the other two occupants of the room.

Roy's expression remained firm, and he calmly ignored Armstrong, though it did explain why the flowers were so large... "Why did you need to speak with Edward?" he asked. Rebecca fingered the outline of a flower, and Armstrong was beaming with sparkles. "His sister asked me to tell him something," she said meekly.

Roy waited, and the sparkles began to fade, unnoticed. "What?" she suddenly exclaimed. "You want to know that to!" Roy smiled to himself and she grumbled in frustration. Her hands were shaking. "She wanted me to see where he was and when he was coming home. She wanted to tell him that his paint was drying up."

Roy blinked. He was becoming amused. "No artist would leave their paint out to dry in the sun?" he stated, all that time messing with artists' benefitting him. But there was something wrong here.

Her face went red. "That's all she told me!"

"And you couldn't gather enough courage to come through the front door?"

Her lips moved, but nothing came out at first. "I wanted to avoid you," she said, looking from Roy to Armstrong. The tall man had found a full-length mirror from somewhere and was gazing at his muscles and sparkles. Roy frowned. He had run out of ideas.

Slowly, he stood up. "You'll be staying here tonight and coming back with us to Central tomorrow morning," he stated, and her jaw dropped. "Are you kidding?" she cried, "I have to be back to--"

Roy raised an eyebrow. It made him look eerie, with the small light and the eyepatch. Rebecca bit her tongue. "Nowhere," she said quickly. Roy inclined his head slightly and led her to one of the rooms for patients. There was only one patient staying overnight, and Joseph was in another bed. Roy let Armstrong stand guard for now--trying to disregard the fact that he had brought the full-length mirror upstairs with him.

Before he reached the top of the stairway to head down, he heard a low creak accompanied by a loud snap. Slowly, and with a gloomy expression, he turned and a door swung open. Edward grinned sheepishly at him in the dark, a few tools and bits of metal around him. Roy turned and descended down the stairs.

He heard Edward run to catch up. "Why is she here?" Edward asked, referring to Rebecca. "Did she say anything?"

At the bottom of the stairs, Roy faced him. "Do you know anyone in this house who would have access to any type of drug or stress-relieving medicine?" he asked and Edward's eyes went wide. Slowly, the blonde looked up the stairway.

"Major," Roy said, even more sternly this time. Still, Armstrong tried to impress the Spruce brothers with his family heirlooms. "Major!"

Suddenly Armstrong saluted. "Go to sleep, Major," Roy said, making sure his voice was loud. The major nodded, went to the first bed he came to, and lay there with his eyes wide open. Joseph was freaked out by him, and forced his eyes shut, only to have them open up again a second later. He cringed and cowered behind his brother. "What's wrong with him?" Joseph whimpered, sounding childish for his age. Roy smirked. "I'll tell you when I get back. Keep an eye on them."

He walked quietly in the hallway. "There's some ecstasy in Winry's room," Edward said, shifting his feet uncomfortably. "Behind a stack of paintings in her wardrobe. I don't see...why would she put some in Major Armstrongs' meal?" He had said the last sentence as if waiting for a confirmation of his suspicions, but received none.

"Do you know how she obtained it?" Edward shrugged and quoted, "'Came with the paintings'."

Winry wasn't in her bedroom. She was up late, working on some automail adjustments for the patient who was having difficulty sleeping. Roy walked into the room, not turning the ceiling light on, but a nearby lamp instead.

A terrible feeling weighed on his shoulders as he opened the wardrobe. All he had to do was question Winry, and if she didn't cooperate, then search. He stretched out his arms, trying to get rid of the feeling, then knelt down and looked into the wardrobe. He glanced back out and saw Joseph standing in the doorway. Not doing anything, just standing there. Roy peered back in and saw the first painting, monochromatic mountains painted in cold colours.

"It's not there," Roy almost hit his head on a board as he his head out. He looked at Joseph, who suddenly appeared his age.

Roy smiled. "You know more than you let on." Why put it in Armstrong's and not mine?

"I hoped you would listen," Joseph said. He shut the door quietly behind him. "Everyone thinks I've the mind of a child, so they refuse to believe a word I say."

Roy stood up, taking note of the glove still secure on his right hand as he closed the wardrobe doors. He turned, smiling smugly. "Alright then. I'm all ears."

He hesitated, then walked over to Roy. He took Roy's right hand, and received a scowl in return. "Simply put, sir," he said quietly, staring at the alchemy symbol on the back of his glove. Slowly, he dropped his hand. "I'm the one responsible for the deaths of Colin and Cobin Ashmore," he barely whispered, looking weakly at Roy. "I did it to protect my family."

Roy frowned, allowing a long silence before he muttered, "You didn't do this."

Joseph looked hurt and objected, "I did..."

"You may have played a part, but you're not responsible," Roy interrupted, then held up his gloved hand, ready to snap, and Joseph silenced. Roy glowered at him. "I don't want you to mention this ever again," he grumbled, then left Joseph alone in the room.

There is something wrong here, what is it! He spotted Edward standing in the doorway of the other room, watching the inhabitants, then glancing at Roy as he passed. Roy avoided eye contact.

What's taking Riza so long? he thought as he wearily walked down the steps.