Time after Time:

The creature turned its head to look at him, the awkward angle making bile rise up in his throat. That wasn't his mother…it wasn't even human.

Grabbing the sheet tightly in his fists he laid there panting for several minutes before his heart rate came down. The nightmare died back into the dark corners of his mind, his fever addled brain pulling out the worst. Sickness didn't strike him often, but when it did, it always came with a vengeance.

It was miserable being stuck in bed, specifically if it entailed him having to fight off nightmares he hadn't had in years. Rubbing at his tired eyes he looked at the pulled drapes, his eyes traveling along the lighted edges wondering what time of day it was. No matter, he was likely to miss out on the day with the way things were progressing. His body was trying hard to fight off the cold but a fever didn't really feel any better. Pushing the covers off his body he flung his hands over his head exhaling his impatience.

The bedroom swayed a little as he blinked away the weariness that would have pulled him back into a restless sleep if it wasn't for the footsteps in the hallway. Turning towards the door he would have smiled if he didn't feel so wretched.

Edward's wife stepped through the doorway a sympathetic look on her face. "Hey there."

He tried to say something but the dryness of his throat made his voice hoarse with an underlying scratchiness that sounded gross.

"Shh…" She pulled a washcloth from the basin and squeezed it out.

He sighed in content as her cool hands pushed his bangs out of his face leaving the wet cloth in its place.

This wasn't the first time she had taken care of him like this nor did he imagine it to be the last. He watched as she took the glass in her hand and offered him an ice chip.

Did she know the kind of magic she wielded over him?

"Better?"

He closed his eyes nodding his head once and enjoying the pleasant reprieve from his predicament. Her lips pressed against his cheek, her hand finding his and giving it a slight squeeze. When he felt her hand slowly pull from his he immediately tightened his grip.

She frowned, but the kindness in her eyes betrayed her attempt at pulling away. "You need to sleep and I need to make sure they haven't set the kitchen on fire."

That caught him off guard.

"You let them cook?" He asked in astonishment. Their oldest was twelve but still the three of them, with their beginners knowledge of alchemy and mechanics, was a cause for concern.

"They're making you soup." She smirked as if the idea both scared and amused her.

They were making him what? "Why would they do that?" Wasn't it the weekend, shouldn't they be off playing somewhere?

His wife ruffled his hair in the same fashion he usually bestowed upon her. "They want to take care of you just as much as I do."

"I'm not an invalid." He muttered not really happy that he needed to be taken care of.

Winry rolled her eyes, "Stop being such a macho man. One day you are just going to have to accept that when people try to take care of you it's not because they don't think you're capable of doing it, it's because they want to. I figured by now you would know that we only do it because you are our world and we love you."

It wasn't the dryness in his throat that kept him from responding.

She flicked his nose.

"Ow!" He groaned sending her a dirty look. "What was that for?"

"Pretend it's the best soup you've ever had."

He was about to protest when he heard them coming. Alan bounded into the room jumping onto the bed in his excitement.

"Surprise, I'm a chef!" He cheered happily.

Sara came next, her form a little cautious as she looked at him. He knew he looked pretty sick but for the first time he saw how his children saw him. There was a fear to her gaze, a worried expression that made his stomach knot up in understanding. "Come here sweetie."

His little girl hesitated for a second before falling into place beside Al. Ed came last, his arms laden with a tray. There was something about his son he suddenly found rather striking. It was the look of concern, the weighted responsibility that seemed to have settled on his shoulders. When had that happened?

Winry helped him into an upright position as his son placed the tray on his lap. The three kids looked at him expectantly while his wife watched them in turn, emitting that special loving smile she must realize wandered on her face when looking at her family. It made her all the lovelier.

Aw hell.

It could be mold for all he cared; he would eat every damn bite of this soup even if it killed him.

Putting the spoon to his lips he swallowed the warm liquid at will. The taste was instant, his tongue finding an unexpected twist to this concoction. After two and three more spoonful's he almost laughed in realization. It was their mother's recipe that was for sure but there were some minor changes. It seemed a little spicier as if someone had put in a pinch too much and there was a foreign vegetable he wasn't sure he recognized but the familiarity was there.

"Do you like it?" Sara asked shyly.

He finished it quickly, a wide grin on his face. Physically he knew it hadn't cured anything but he was actually feeling much better. "You guys are just like your mother."

Alan looked appalled, clearly upset, "But I'm a boy!"

He laughed enjoying the way his other two children beamed in appreciation of the compliment before looking at his wife. "They get that from you, you know." He commented trying to show her his gratitude before pulling all three of his kids in for a hug. "You guys know just how to make me feel better." He told them in a hoarse voice that had nothing to do with being sick.