The afternoon and evening was uneventful, and they ended in back in the hotel. He slept for three hours. After that, the drumming of his heart was too fast, too much, and he felt like he was vibrating.

He growled, standing up and getting a glass of water in the bathroom, splashing water on his face.

Mustang was still asleep.

Atkins cast a glance at him from where he was sitting on his cot, a small lamp illuminating the documents he was looking over. Honestly, did this guy ever sleep?

Atkins frowned, brow creasing, as Ed paced. "You alright?"

"I don't know.".

"You seem agitated. Anxious."

"That's because I am." Ed said simply.

"Do you... have any idea why?" Atkins asked hesitantly.

Fear. Cold, unadulterated fear and anxiety. It was surrounding that area, drenching the alley where the newest victim had been found- and it appeared to have crawled into his heart and made a home there as well.

I don't want to be dead... he caught the faintest whisper beside him, and chills wracked his body.

"The newest victim is struggling to adjust with being dead, I think. She... she wasn't expecting it, wasn't expecting to be killed. whoever it was that murdered her- she knew them, she trusted them, and it's just... by the time she realized what was happening, there was nothing she could do. All I can feel is her fear... fuck, I can't make it stop." his voice cracked. He didn't like how close to tears he was sounding, or how he felt. He hated feeling this way, so out of control, and he went back to wearing a hole in the carpet pacing, unable to do much else.

I shouldn't have done it. I deserve this. I don't want to die!

A muffled sob escaped him, and he tugged his hand through his hair nervously.

Atkins watched him, silver eyes taking in every detail.

"I don't have any sleeping pills. All the drug stores are closed, it's midnight. But I can get you a shot of bourbon from the hotel bar. It might help your nerves." Atkins said finally.

Ed stopped pacing, clenching and unclenching his hands, still fraught with nerves. "Will that... will it help?".

Atkins shrugged. "Couldn't hurt. Alcohol can take the edge off of things. It's a depressant and a sedative as well, might help you get some more rest.".

"Isn't that... illegal?" Ed asked, puzzled. Atkins was straight-laced and by the book in everything he did, analytical and cold sometimes. Why would he break the law to help him?

Atkins shrugged. "Drinking age is fifteen. You're close enough, not even a year until you're fifteen, right? And it's not like I'm getting you wasted- it's to calm you down. Because frankly, you're all over the place.".

"I don't want to deal with this! I don't want to be like this, I don't understand..." Ed snapped, tears springing to his eyes. He raked his fingers through his hair, frustrated at his own lack of control over his feelings and emotions.

"Easy. Take it easy." Atkins clapped a hand on his shoulder as he stood. "I know you don't. I appreciate you helping us on this case, Edward. I really do. because I've seen how hard this can be on you. Try to relax. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Atkins left, shutting the door quietly behind him. Mustang was still out cold, it was still the middle of the night, and now he was alone...

He ended up curled up on his bed, clutching his pillow as a few stray tears escaped.

An unwanted flutter in his stomach made him nauseas, and he clamped his jaw shut to muffle the whimper that escaped him as another wave of anxiety crashed over him.

Alone. I can't do this on my own. Stupid, stupid. I should have never done that, how will I go on now?

He buried his face in the pillow to muffle his cries.

It seemed like a small eternity before Atkins was back, a sliver of light from the hallway, a small glass of amber liquid in hand.

"They didn't have bourbon. I got brandy instead. Best you drink it all in one go..." he advised, taking in Ed's tear-steaked face with a look of concern.

Ed had grabbed the glass and downed it within thirty seconds. it burned, his eyes watered more, and he coughed. It tasted like flowers and had a citrusy aftertaste, and he hiccupped, making a face.

"Tastes like furniture polish." he muttered. But even ask he spoke, he could feel the warmth seeping into his belly and cheeks, the constant crashing of waves of anxiety ebbing down to a manageable stream...

Atkins chuckled. "Yeah, sounds about right." the man plucked the empty shotglass from his hand, setting it on the small desk. "How are you doing, kid?".

Ed shrugged. "Better." there was a steady buzzing in his head, but it was pleasant, not anxious. His lips felt warm, his tongue mushy. But the whispers were gone now, the feelings around him muffled, and it was nice...

"Think you can lay down and try to get some sleep now?"

Ed nodded sluggishly, flopping back onto his bed. When he slept this time, there were no dreams. He relished the blackness.

He was no stranger to waking up uncomfortable in the hotel, but once again waking up to the realization he was about to puke was still unpleasant.

At least he remembered where the bathroom was this time, darting in expertly and letting out a dry retch that tore at his chest.

Mustang had been at the bathroom sink washing his face, but he turned, forgetting getting ready for the morning at Ed started to puke loudly.

"Shit- again?"

Ed wanted to snap at him with something witty. But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was another mouthful of bile. He still had a headache, but he felt less like death- it was unsettling be become familiar with puking, but this was his second time in a handful of days. Instead of fighting he just let it happen. A few heaves later he was sighing, resting his head on the cool porcelain and catching his breath.

Mustang was crouched next to him, looking worried and pressing a hand to his clammy forehead. "What did you get into this time? and don't say it was food poisoning- we didn't even eat at the hotel this time.".

Atkins was in the doorway, looking concerned. "Might be my fault, actually. I gave him a drink last night.".

"A drink of what?" Mustang asked, confused.

"Brandy.".

"I'm fine." Ed rasped out hoarsely.

Mustang looked from Ed to Atkins, giving Atkins a look that said he was pissed. "Why the hell did you buy him alcohol?"

"He was freaking out. When he's in a case too deep the emotions hit him. He's been bombarded with feelings and emotions these past few days with no reason why and he was panicking. He couldn't sleep.". Atkins said simply.

Mustang sighed. "Why didn't you wake me up instead of giving him alcohol?"

"Because you weren't going to be able to fix it. When the kid gets into paranormal stuff nobody can help him, he needed to calm down."

"And giving him alcohol was a solution?" Mustang snapped.

"He was so anxious he couldn't stop pacing. When I got back to the room he was crying." Atkins said seriously.

Mustang looked guilty for a moment, and Ed coughed, trying to clear the taste of bile from his mouth.

"He was right. I needed it. I got back to sleep after I drank it. Haven't slept that good since we got here " he staggered to his feet, rinsing his mouth out at the sink and taking two aspirin.

Mustang's gaze followed him, but he stood. "So he's hungover." he asked, giving Atkins a look as they stepped out of the bathroom.

"I guess so. I wouldn't have given it to him if I knew it'd make him sick, but he was in a state-".

Ed chose to tune them out, washing his face and getting dressed, heading out of the hotel room. "I have to get back to the morgue.".

This time it was Atkins who looked hesitant, looking to Mustang.

Mustang sighed. "Fine. But we leave when I say so."

"You're sure you want to go back to the morgue?" Mustang wasn't looking excited at the prospect of going back to the morgue for the rest of the day.

"Yes I'm sure. I can't just leave her there alone!"

"Okay. Maybe you need to take a step back, though. Spending your every waking moment in the morgue isn't healthy."

"Oh, so I should just go take a nap and let the serial killer keep doing his thing? I need the results of the blood test." Ed said seriously.

"Fullmetal. We aren't arguing about this. I'm merely making an observation. We can go back to the morgue today, but I think tomorrow we can look at crime scenes or discuss theories in the hotel. Staying the morgue in the basement isn't healthy."

Ed sighed. "Whatever. I need alone time. I don't want people looking over my shoulder all the time.".

Roy blinked. "You don't get alone time. Not after what happened at the canal-"

Atkins sighed. "How about a compromise? He can chill inside the morgue alone and one of us will sit in the hallway outside the morgue. That way he can figure out what he needs to without being smothered. Sound good?"

"Sounds great." Ed said, though he sounded less than enthusiastic.

When they got to the morgue, Atkins took up residence in the hallway. As soon as Ed walking into the room, he coudl hear the muffled crying, and the hair on his arm stood up straight.

You left me alone!

"I'm sorry. They said I needed a break." Ed spoke aloud as he crossed the room easily, walking over to the lockers and pulling out a drawer in the bottom center, coming face-to-face with the corpse of the young woman they'd autopsied the day before.

Savannah was filling out paperwork at he small desk nearby, and she cocked her head at him curiously.

"She doesn't like to be left alone. She died alone. And she was alone before that. I have no idea why, but she has a fixation with being alone..." Ed tried to explain.

Savannah nodded, green eyes uncertain. "Well- I have to go look at the reports. And I have other work to do."

Ed nodded. "I get it. I really do. Can you just make sure to bring me the autopsy report when her blood test results come back?".

Savannah nodded. "Yeah. Sure. The blood test might be back by now, actually..."

She came back ten minutes later, autopsy report in hand. "So all the serum electrolytes were normal, optimal kidney functioning in the BUN and creatinine, nothing really sticks out..."

Ed blinked, his eyes falling on one column in particular. "Sarah said earlier today that a normal HcG level is less than 5. Hers is 750. Was she pregnant?"

Savannah frowned, doing a double take. "There... there wasn't any signs of pregnancy in the uterus. She might've had a miscarriage. Or maybe a tumor that caused high HcG levels."

"Right. Okay. Do you have the autopsy reports for all the other female victims?"

Savannah paused. "No. but I can get you copies of them- it's going to take me an hour or two, though."

Ed nodded. "that's fine. Thank you for all your help... it means a lot..."

Come lay down and be dead with us!

I don't want to be alone!

"I'm right here. And I'm still listening.". he promised.

Time shuffled by abnormally slowly. Or was it abnormally quickly?

But the next thing he knew, Mustang was tapping his shoulder and handing him a sandwich from the hospital cafeteria. "It's almost five. Atkins is questioning the friends and family of the murdered couple for any potential leads- any friends, enemies they had. We should get going.".

Ed frowned. "Not yet. Just a little longer- please?".

Mustang paused at the use of the word please. He sighed, leaning against the autopsy table. "Fine. But only if you eat your sandwich. Have they said anything to you, lately?".

Ed shook his head, taking a bite of whatever the hell kind of sandwich it was. It looked like some kind of Italian sub, Mustang had observed him enough to know he wasn't picky.

"No. Just feelings." he resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose. This sandwich tasted like metal. Savannah hadn't been kidding when she'd been joking about the hospital food earlier. "And I still want to stop by the canal on the way home. I have to see if the lady is waiting for me.".

Mustang sighed. "Fine. But I don't think that someone who tried to drown you is a reliable source of evidence."

Ed was halfway through his sandwich, now, and he sighed. Suddenly, he was over it. Over Mustang and all his concern and bullshit- they had a murder case to solve, dammit!

"I don't really give a damn what you think, Mustang." he said, voice smooth and even.

"Excuse me?" it'd come out of left field, and Mustang raised an eyebrow at him.

"You heard me. I said I don't care what you think. Atkins thinks I'm making progress. I've found links no one else has on this case. You can't say I'm not doing my job.".

Mustang blinked. "There's doing your job, and there's drowning in a canal in the middle of the night and leaving your little brother all alone. Those are two very different things, Fullmetal." he was struggling to keep his tone even, because Ed was snapping at him for no reason, now. "And I'm seriously disturbed that you can't tell the difference between them.".

Ed's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, before he scoffed. "Seriously? You think I'd die on purpose and just leave Al!? do you have any idea what the hell you're accusing me of, you Bastard!" Ed had crushed the remains of his sandwich in his hand, glaring.

"I'm not saying you'd do it willingly- I'm saying, the fact is, you nearly drowned the other night."

"Well at least I got fucking results! At least I'm not a half-wit fucking Colonel who has to have my secretary point a gun at my back to make me get anything done! At least I'm not depending on a fourteen year old to solve my cases for me because I'm too fucking useless to figure any of it out myself!" Ed snarled.

The fluorescent lights of the morgue flickered and died, leaving them both in darkness.

Mustang blinked, looking from Ed, who was seething, to the dark lights in the room. He was honestly unsettled at the kid's sudden change in mood, and the lights going out made him realize- it wasn't just Ed at work here.

"You've been here too long. You need to get out of here. You're lashing out because you don't understand what's going on, and the emotions are getting the better of you.". Mustang said seriously.

Ed blinked, golden golden eyes flashing in the darkness as he let out a humorless chuckle. "You have no idea what the fuck you're taking about.".

Mustang felt the uneasiness- the wrongness- of everything rolling off him in waves.

And as suddenly as everything had shifted, the lights of the morgue flickered back on, bathing the room in light.

Mustang paused. "Fullmetal?"

Ed blinked. "Yeah?"

"You alright?" he stepped closer- he'd expected the kid's nose to be bleeding, or something paranormal to have occurred...

"I'm fine. I'm just sick of everything." Ed admitted, looking away from him.

Mustang had to pause for a moment and wonder what the actual hell had just happened. They'd been having a productive conversation, Ed had started a fight with him out of nowhere and been shouting, the lights were off, and now the kid was suddenly back to normal again?

He was also nursing hurt feelings- because did Ed really believe that? Did he really think Mustang was out to get him, to make his life hell, was incompetent, was useless? Or was he just lashing out because of all the spirits in the room, all the things he couldn't understand...

Ed sighed. "It's too loud here. I want to go back to the canal. Everything was quiet, there...".

The door to the morgue swung open, and Savannah came in, holding a sheaf of papers. "Hey Ed. I got copies of the reports you wanted..."

"Thanks so much." Ed was already eagerly looking through the papers, and Mustang frowned. "You can do that back at the hotel. You've been here all day".

Ed frowned, looking like he wanted to argue but pausing, stuffing the papers into a folder and giving Mustang a wary look. "Fine. But we're stopping by the canal on the way."

Mustang nodded wordlessly.

They stood in front of the canal for what must've been twenty minutes in the biting spring wind, and Ed seemed to grow more despondent each minute they were there.

He stared into the depths of the crystal clear water tearfully, and the wind whipped his red coat around him as he shook his head.

"I don't understand why you won't come back to me. You promised you'd tell me everything..." he sank to his knees, grabbing a handful of water from the canal and letting it slip through his fingers. "Why the hell did you abandon me?".

He stood, heaving a sigh and scrubbing his sleeve over his face and heading wordlessly back to the hotel. Mustang chose not to comment. The kid's emotions were all over the place tonight, and he didn't want to push him any further then he had to.

Ed was mostly silent, even after they'd gotten back to the hotel room.

Atkins was eagerly chattering about the family and friends of the two engaged victims that he was profiling, but Ed hardly seemed to hear him.

Even Atkins seemed to notice how spaced out he was, and he frowned, looking at Ed critically.

"You alright, Elric? Did something happen? Your nose isn't bleeding..." he cast a glance over at Mustang, who shrugged.

"What're you thinking about, Edward?" Atkins tried again.

Ed sighed. "The lady at the canal won't talk to me anymore. I don't understand why." he kicked off his boots and heaved a sigh, falling back onto his bed and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I have a headache." he muttered quietly.

"Get some rest. Maybe she'll talk to you in the morning." Atkins suggested.

Ed nodded restlessly, crawling beneath the sheets and curling up. He drifted off to the sounds of static, feeling uneasy in the sheets.