Yay! Two in one day! And so here we are, chapter six!

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And thank you so much to every reader, follower, favouriter and reviewer! You guys are more inspiring than you know!

Chapter Six

The next two days were some of the weirdest Ed had ever had.

Because how was he supposed to react to living in the same house as someone who usually was the world's most useless, annoying bastard, when he wasn't actually acting like a bastard for once? One thing had been back in Amsel when Mustang had had Hawkeye there as a babysitter, but now? And Ed was reliant on him to help him get up and down the stairs and to get dressed unless he wanted to be in considerable pain. Ed was of course adamant on washing himself on his own, and pulling on his boxers, and Mustang didn't seem to have any problems with that.

Although Ed had to say, he did still fight the urge to knock the Colonel on the head as he helped him pull on his socks.

The first day was the worst, though, as Mustang's kitchen was completely devoid of edible food. That left them with a bit of a dilemma. Ed had woken up after four hours of sleep, and they were now faced with the horrible prospect of walking to the grocery store and back. They were not willing to split up, not even for half an hour, not with that psycho probably watching their every move. And it also seemed that the Colonel was unwilling to leave him because it would create the perfect opportunity for Charles to come and grab Edward, which wasn't really a cheerful prospect either.

Ed was slightly confused by this new protective side of the Colonel, but part of him was actually appreciating his concern as it slightly helped him in fighting the strangled feeling that was creeping up on him every time he thought about Charles.

So they had ended up walking slowly to buy the groceries, Ed leaning heavily on Mustang to put as little strain as possible on his wound. Ed had got many funny looks in the store, seeing as how he was obviously not in any shape to go shopping, as well as the fact that his automail arm was exposed as he was only wearing a T-shirt. Thankfully they had been looking so strange that people didn't dare question them.

And so they had managed to sort of settle in in Mustang's house.

Then came the day that "the game" was supposed to resume on.

They were tense the whole time, waiting for a phone call, a letter anything.

But nothing came.

Then, as the clock said that it was one minute until midnight, the phone suddenly rang.

Mustang started and ran for the phone.

"Hello…Are you doing alright?...I'm listening…Listen, we will help y-…DAMN IT!" He threw the receiver down.

"What happened?" Ed was alarmed.

"The bastard cut off the call."

Ed breathed out in relief, it could have been much worse than that. "How's Anthony?"

"The same as last time."

"I guess that's good. What did he say?"

"He told us to go and collect my car."

"What? Why?"

"He didn't say."

"Did he give us a time limit?"

"Noon tomorrow."

"And how long would you guess it would take for us to reach it?"

"About three hours."

"Shit."

"My thoughts exactly."

"So what are we supposed to do?"

"He said we both had to go."

"Then I'm gonna need some stuff in order to transmute a wheelchair."

Ed made a list, and together they went out in the middle of the night to collect metal scraps, some wood, an old couch pillow as well as the spare tyre in Mustang's garage.

All in all, Ed thought he had created one hell of a wheelchair.

Mustang, however, didn't.

"That, Fullmetal, is an abomination."

"How?"

"Armrests are not supposed to look like dragons."

"Come on, it's only adding a bit of décor."

"There are spikes coming out of the sides of the wheels."

"So what? It's not like they're big enough to hurt anyone!"

"And they have evil-looking eyes."

"That's cool as hell!"

"And it's red."

"How is that the biggest of your problems?"

"Fullmetal, it's supposed to be inconspicuous."

"I'm not sitting in a boring wheelchair for three hours."

"Well, I don't want to be seen pushing a thing like that."

In the end they ended up with a compromise, Ed removed the dragons and the spikes, but got to keep the eyes and the red colour.

Ed sat down in it at Mustang pushed him the all the way back home. It was much nicer on his injury to be sitting down rather than walking on his own. When they got back, they agreed to go to bed and begin their day at six o'clock.

Roy definitely had the hardest job that day, but he didn't complain as he pushed Fullmetal up the third steep hill for the last half hour. The sun was boiling his back which was already screaming from the strain. He wasn't going to complain, because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Fullmetal would rather be walking than being pushed around. He was not going to trigger a reaction from him that made him start walking on his own, which would be bad as there was at least two hours left.

The kid was impatiently tapping his fingers on the armrest. "How's your back, Colonel?"

"Uncomfortable."

"I could try walking for a while…"

"No. I am ordering you as your commanding officer to stay in that wheelchair. The last thing we need right now is for you to reopen your wound."

The kid mumbled a string of curses.

And so the trip went. Fullmetal kept making suggestions about how he could walk for five minutes, sit for five minutes, how he could walk while leaning on the wheelchair, every single thing he could think of, but Roy didn't change his mind. Fullmetal was furious by the time they finally reached the car, and he shot out of the wheelchair the minute the car was in sight. Roy had to say that he was starting to get how this kid managed to recover from automail surgery in just a year. He was stubborn as hell.

"Fullmetal! You shouldn't walk!"

"Screw that! It's only a few metres!" The kid limped his way over to the car, although Roy quickly caught up with him, he wasn't keeping a very fast pace.

Roy went over to the driver's side, finding an envelope fastened to the windshield wiper. He ripped it open.

There's no need for such gloom,

The game will resume.

Now what you will do,

Is travel to Amsel, you two.

Meet me by my sister's grave.

And do make sure that you two behave.

Roy handed the letter to Fullmetal with a sigh.

"I think he's getting serious, now he's just giving orders, not riddles. I don't think anything good will happen in Amsel," Roy told him when he had read the letter.

"Yeah, and meeting him by his sister's grave sounds quite ominous." He crumpled the paper. "But we have to go. Anthony's depending on us!"

They got into the car, Fullmetal wincing as he pulled the door closed. He was back in his usual clothes now that they were free of blood. Roy had gone with civilian ones, wearing a white shirt and dark grey trousers. None of them looked like they had suffered life threatening injuries within the last week.

They drove in silence, none of them knowing what to say anymore. None of them knowing what was to come. Hell, Roy wasn't really sure that he was going to be alive at the end of the day.

Then they were there. They drove through the slight familiarity of Amsel, reaching the graveyard where Grace Hopkins was buried. Roy knew the route, he had already been there to say a few choice words to the coffin as it was lowered into the ground.

You did not hurt any of his subordinates without getting what you deserved.

Roy lifted the wheelchair out of the trunk and ordered Fullmetal to sit down in it. They then made their way through the rows upon rows of gravestones until they finally reached the one they were looking for.

They stood there for about fifteen minutes of absolutely nothing.

Then a shot pierced the silence.

And lodged itself in Roy's left knee.

He yelled as he fell to his side, gripping his bleeding leg.

"Colonel!" Fullmetal stood up and kneeled beside him, instantly throwing off his red coat and using it to stem the flow of blood. The movement was obviously causing the kid pain, and Roy could see the panic rising in his eyes.

Then suddenly there was a person behind Fullmetal, holding a kitchen knife against his throat, bringing his head back by pulling his ponytail.

"Hello again, my dear boy." Charles stabbed the knife hard into Fullmetal's left shoulder, making the kid scream.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Roy shouted.

Charles didn't even spare him a glance. "You feel it, don't you Edward? Your blood is sending the drug right through your body… It's my own special concoction, very effective in paralysing the body from the neck down…" He threw him sideway to the ground, right next to Roy.

Roy instinctively pulled the kid to him, trying to shield him from any further harm.

"Oh, there's no point, Roy, I won't do anything more to him for now. I just can't have him use his alchemy, that's all. Now I suggest you prevent him from bleeding out."

"What the hell are you going to do to us!?" Roy said furiously as he threw off his shirt to press it against Fullmetal's shoulder. His own knee was throbbing excruciatingly, but at least the bullet was stopping some of the blood. Fullmetal, on the other hand, was completely helpless. And the bastard had ripped the blade out none to cleanly. "Listen, Edward, it's going to be okay, I swear."

Charles stomped down on Roy's injured knee, making him scream out in agony.

"What have I said about language, Roy?!"

"YOU BASTARD!" Fullmetal shouted.

Roy was suddenly thrown away from the boy, and Charles was instead stomping down on Fullmetal's bleeding shoulder, making him scream again.

"As you can tell, Edward, the drug may paralyse you, but it does not make you impervious to pain." Charles stepped away from him, gesturing for Roy to continue his first aid attempts.

"And now that I have your attention: Anthony, dear! You are free to go, you have done so well!"

Roy turned around, looking at the frightened boy.

"Come on, now! Off you pop! Thank you for all your help! You're allowed to call the police, the military, anyone, nobody is going to find us until I say so anyway! But if you don't run now, I'll put another bullet in Roy's leg!"

Anthony ran.

Roy didn't blame the kid.

"And now, the fun is about to start, because the winner of the game was me," Charles said, turning back towards them. "Which means that I get to choose my prize."

He grinned at them both.

Aaaaand there's the beginning of the storm...

See you again tomorrow!

I'll be posting the minute the next chapter is ready as usual, so until then, sorry about the cliffhanger!