"I'm going to kill him," Alphonse announced.

Roy raised an eyebrow as he brushed his boots against the doormat. "That sounds a bit counterproductive, don't you think?" He was annoyed as well—trudging through the fields of Resembool in the rain wasn't his idea of a good time either—but Ed had only been missing a couple of hours and Roy hadn't completely succumbed to panic yet. Clearly, Alphonse had.

"It'll make me feel better," Al snapped, ripping his raincoat from his shoulders and hanging it on a peg by the door. "Ed!" he called into the dark house. It was midafternoon, but the thick clouds had blotted out the sun completely, reducing the house to shadows.

But Ed didn't answer, and an ember of hope Roy didn't know had ignited in his chest smothered and died. "He'll come back," Roy promised. "You said he wonders off sometimes."

"Not for this long and not in weather like this!" Al said, frustration and worry giving his words an edge that was generally uncharacteristic of the younger Elric. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, scattering droplets across the hardwood floor like tiny crystals. "He couldn't get that far, not in his condition."

Roy honestly had no idea why Ed had wondered off. He knew that Ed was as stubborn as he was brilliant, but he couldn't think of a reason for the young man to just walk off on his own like this.

"I'll go to Winry's," Roy said. They had tried to call first, after a quick search of the perimeter when the storm hit and they couldn't find Ed anywhere, but the line was down with the arrival of the fierce wind and lightning.

"He shouldn't be at Winry's. It's too far."

Roy wanted to roll his eyes, but that seemed childish. As if distance and a little pain would stop Ed from doing what he had his mind set on. "I'll check anyway. Wait here, in case he comes back."

Alphonse nodded, but didn't look pleased. "Right."

"Try not to worry too much." Roy pulled up the hood of his coat before ducking back out into the storm.

Despite his own words of wisdom, he found a knot of concern starting to tighten in the pit of his stomach, unable to shake the vision of Ed, face down in a puddle somewhere. What if he had a coughing fit and fell, unable to get up and drowned? What if he was out in the elements too long? A chest cold could kill him at this point.

Closing his eyes and taking a cleansing breathe, he ordered the image from his mind. Alphonse asked him here because he needed help. Roy wouldn't allow himself to succumb to the same panic. Roy needed to keep his head on his shoulders.

Until he found Ed, anyway. Then he would kill him himself, but first things first.

Get to Winry's. Find Ed. Bring him home.

Roy trudged down the muddied path and repeated his new mantra.

XxXxX

Ed watched absently as the rain lashed against the window, backlit by the occasional flicker of lightening at it rushed down the glass in a continuous wave. It pounded on the roof like a thousand tiny fists, and outside, a river of mud was slowly lurching down the road. Walking home was going to be a neat trick.

Winry sat next to him, her body resting against him and her hand entwined in his. He liked the feel of it there, her warm skin between his fingers, palms pressed together. It was selfish of him when he knew he wasn't going to be around that long, but he liked holding her, the weight of her head leaning gently on his chest as they huddled together on the sofa with his arm over her, watching the sky melt. It made him feel like he could still protect something, even if it was just her heart.

Fine job you're doing, when you're going to just die in a couple of months.

Ed ignored the intrusive thought. He was selfish to a fault, but he wasn't ready to give this up. Not yet.

The engagement ring around her finger glowed softly in the reflected light from the fireplace, and under it, just under the pale skin of her rough, perfect hand, a fresh bruise blossomed. It made Ed feel a little queasy to look at it.

He'd hit her.

Not that he meant it, and he'd apologized profusely for it when he could breathe again, but there it sat, reminding him of why this was a bad idea, and how selfish he was for being here in the first place.

The phone lines had been down before Winry had even gotten the call out. Which meant if he knew what was good for him, he would stand up and walk out the door before Al came in and killed him. Really, this was a bad idea on all fronts.

But . . . he wanted to hold her like this. Just a few more minutes.

He might not even be strong enough to do it the next time he got the chance.

"Ed?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you . . ." she began, then halted. "I know we called off the wedding, but . . . can we still—"

"Winry," he said, emotion thickening his voice. He cleared his throat, leaning his head against hers. They'd had this conversation once before. Clearly, she wasn't done. "You don't want this, Winry." How could she possibly want to marry him? And for what? At most, maybe six months? He probably wasn't even going to see another winter. Why would she possibly want to marry him, knowing that?

Of course, she didn't exactly know everything. He'd done his best to keep the worst of it from her, but she knew he was on borrowed time. She knew enough to know better.

"Don't tell me what I want," she said, but the usual bite that would accompany that statement was gone. "I know what I want, Ed, and I want to marry you."

"Winry, that's ridiculous. You're just signing up to be a widow. You don't need that."

He was suddenly aware of a growing dampness on his chest, but Winry didn't sniffle or show any other signs the conversation was getting to her, aside from the thickness in her voice. "It's my choice, too, isn't it?"

Well, Ed supposed he couldn't argue with that, exactly.

But she couldn't understand the cost and still want this, could she? There would be no Equivalent Exchange here. So they would be husband and wife and he would get to hold her like this—and more—all the time. And then she would get to bury him.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew his death would devastate her and Alphonse. Actually, he kind of hoped they ended up together, after he was gone. Ed knew how weird it sounded, but somehow, it sounded right, too. Alphonse and Winry had always loved each other, and Alphonse had once fought Ed for the right to marry her when they were kids (and won, too). It kind of seemed fitting that they would grow closer through the circumstances, maybe even closer than Ed and Winry were. Grief was a funny thing like that.

Regardless of with whom, Ed didn't want her hanging on to him. He wanted to leave her with as few emotional wounds as possible, so she could move on, have the five kids she always wanted to have, and have a happy life with someone she loved.

Even if it killed him that it wasn't going to be him.

"Winry, it's wrong," he said with a sigh that made him feel like an old man.

"What's wrong about it?" she asked, no heat in the response.

Ed let his hand absently comb through her long blonde hair, brushing it over her shoulder in long strokes. "You're just making this harder on yourself than you have to."

"It's my choice," she said again, this time more firmly, all of the thickness he heard earlier gone. "I'm the one that has to live without you, so it's not about you. Stop being an idiot."

Ed wanted to roll his eyes. "You're the idiot."

"You're just a selfish jerk," she hissed, nestling deeper into his chest. "I can't believe I love you."

"And I love you, so shut up."

"You shut up!"

Movement outside caught Ed's eye. A figure moved through the watery haze, cloaked in black and lurching down the road through the muddy river. Something about the way it moved sparked some sense of recognition in Ed, but it didn't fully register until the hood slipped off and he caught a blurry glimpse of a pale face framed in raven hair.

Ed groaned.

Well, at least it wasn't Al.

Winry sat up, her comforting weight removed from his chest and panic in her eyes. She had mistaken the sound for one of pain, but come to think of it, Mustang was certain a pain in his backside. "What's wrong?!"

"It's that stupid Colonel Mustang," he groused, shifting to sit on the edge of the couch with no small amount of effort and reaching for his crutch. He finally had some time alone with Winry and then heshowed up to ruin everything, the way he always did.

"Isn't he a general now?"

"Semantics. The point is, he's a nuisance and I need to go lock the front door."

"Ed," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "How are you this dramatic?"

"I get it from Al."

Winry dragged herself to her feet, stretching her hands over her head and breathing deep, her pale stomach peeking out under her shirt. "This conversation isn't over," she said after a yawn.

"I'll bet," Ed muttered, taking a deep breath before trying to stand up. His insides flared with the movement and he exhaled a hiss.

Winry touched his shoulder. "Don't get up," she ordered sternly, then disappeared into the adjoining entryway.

Ed watched Mustang cross the window and leave his line of sight. He heard the door open, the sounds of rain now unmuffled and beating down on the deck, and finally heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.

"If he asks, tell him I'm not here," Ed called.

"Too late," an annoyingly familiar, deep baritone announced. "Thank you, Miss Rockbell." Fabric shuffled, the door shut, then Mustang's stupid voice again, "I see he's in a foul mood."

"Only because you're here," Ed retorted.

Mustang rounded the corner, soaking wet and shivering. Onyx eyes locked on Ed's and Ed could have sworn that he saw the hardness in them softening with relief.

But Ed couldn't fathom why, and pondering it made him uncomfortable, so he glared instead. "What are you doing here, Mustang?"

"I came to make sure you weren't drowning in a ditch, Fullmetal," Mustang replied with a little heat of his own, the hardness returning. "The water is awfully high out there, for someone of your stature."

There was more bite to his words than their usual banter, and somehow, that made Ed angrier than usual. Ed ground his teeth and put forth a great deal of effort in keeping his voice level. A coughing fit would ruin the effect. "Why don't you come over here and let me demonstrate how I can still kill you without alchemy?"

Mustang sighed, like this was not at all how he envisioned spending his day, and the edge to his gaze came back, like he was finished with the banter and regretted engaging in it in the first place. He suddenly looked about ten years older. "Fullmetal, I would like to inform you that Alphonse and I have been out scouring every field in a quarter mile radius of the house to make sure you hadn't keeled over in one. I'm tired, and frankly, not in the mood."

Ed opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out, his own roiling anger leaving him in a rush.

Well, leave it to Mustang to take the wind out of his sails.

Winry cleared her throat. "General," she said carefully. "Would you like some tea?"

Mustang looked at her, the hardness in his eyes softening again just for her. Ed knew for a fact that Winry had never particularly liked Mustang, blaming him mostly for Ed joining the military, but recently, things had changed. She may not have loved him, but she did almost like him, in the wake of Ed's retirement. It seemed that Mustang felt like they had a good enough rapport now. "Thank you, Miss Rockbell, but the rain is clearing off, and Fullmetal has missed his afternoon medication. We should be going now."

Ed could feel his face flushing. Winry did notneed to know about his medication, and he would leave when he was well enough ready.

But one look at Mustang's gaze told him that arguing would not get him anywhere he wanted to be, and Mustang was not exactly worried about Ed saving face in front of Winry at the moment.

Winry bit her lip. "General, Ed has put a lot of strain on his leg today—"

"I'll carry him, then."

Ed sputtered. "No! No way in—"

"Fullmetal," Mustang said, with a heavy warning that Ed had learned early on in his military career not to argue with. It was a Mustang that was passed his limit, and not interested in going any further.

Ed glared at him a few moments longer, just so he knew that Ed was not at all pleased with his meddling.

"I will go now, and I will walk myself," he spat, taking a breath before rocking to his feet, crutch held to his chest for support. He had to pause a second to breathe, only coughing twice, before straightening himself up to his full, very substantial, height.

Bad weather had always made his automail ports ache, but ever since he got impaled, it had made that ache, too. Now, with his progressing illness, it made everything ache, and Ed wanted nothing more than to sit back down in the warm couch with a blanket and Winry.

But he doubted Mustang would respond well if Ed asked him to leave, so instead, he took a slow, stiff step forward, then another. He hobbled to Winry, then gave Mustang another glare. "Some privacy, please?"

Mustang looked like he was about to argue, then glanced between Ed and Winry, something unreadable in his eyes. "Make it quick," he said, turning toward the kitchen and disappearing from sight.

Ed glared after him, then turned his gaze to Winry. "I told you to lock the door."

Her smile was uncertain and disappeared as quickly as it had come. "Ed, please don't do this again, okay?"

He blinked at her. "What?"

"Leave without telling anyone. The General sounds like he's been worried sick, and I can only imagine what Al's like."

Ed bit back a retort about it being none of their business.

But to be honest, he was a bit ashamed of himself, after finding out Mustang and Al had both been searching through the storm for him for the past hour, at least. Maybe he had been a little bit selfish . . . he was just so tired of being smothered and treated like some sick old man . . . but maybe he'd taken it a bit far.

So instead of admitting it, Ed grunted. "Fine."

Winry smiled up at him, then looked out the window. "The rain's stopped, but it's still damp outside. Hang on." She turned and ran upstairs.

"I don't have all day!" Ed called after her. "General Impatient over here won't wait forever!"

"I heard that," Mustang growled from the entryway.

Winry returned a moment later with a brown coat Ed vaguely recognized as belonging to her father. She threw the coat around his shoulders, grabbing one arm and shoving it through a sleeve, barely giving him enough time to grab his crutch with the same arm before she grabbed his other. "Hey!" he protested.

"There. That'll keep the dampness out." The sleeves were almost to his fingertips, and the coat went past his knees, much to Ed's chagrin. "I'll come pick this up tomorrow."

Ed was about to complain some more, but then he breathed in her scent, a clear indication that she'd worn the coat plenty. He decided it wouldn't be that big of a deal to borrow the coat for the day. "Fine," he said again.

"So eloquent," she said with a smirk.

"Shut up," he growled, planting a kiss on her lips. He pulled back, but her hand caught his jaw and pulled him in closer, pressing her lips against his, the warmth of her familiar and safe.

After not nearly long enough, she pulled away. "Bye," she smiled.

Ed couldn't quite find it in him to still be grumpy after kissing Winry. "Bye," he grinned. "Okay, hurry up, Mustang!"

The older man reappeared in the entryway, giving Ed a withering look. He didn't say anything, just opened the door and stepped out into the cool, damp air. Ed followed on his crutch, carefully maneuvering to shut the door behind him. He pivoted, almost running into Mustang and his scowl.

"Just what did you think you were doing?"

Ed's surprise was easily washed away beneath a scowl of his own, temper returning. "Out of my way, old man," he huffed, going around him with no small effort. Winry was right; he'd already been walking far too much on his leg today. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone aloud, much less Mustang, but his leg was hurting plenty. Nothing Ed couldn't stand, but he was not looking forward to the walk home with Mustang watching him.

"Do you have any idea how worried Alphonse has been? Or me, for that matter?" Mustang demanded.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right, Mustang."

Ed knew that Mustang cared for them. Why else would he put his career on hold to come out to the boonies and help a crippled ex-soldier and his little brother? But admitting that aloud for Ed made things too real, crossed boundaries that Ed was not ready to cross. Ed liked to keep their relationship "professional," in a sense, and that meant assuring Mustang that he couldn't stand him every chance he got. He expected the same in return, because once Mustang started going soft on him, Ed would know he himself was too far gone.

He didn't want to be pitied. He didn't want to be coddled.

He wanted things to be normal.

"Fullmetal, what you put your brother through is unacceptable."

"Funny, I don't recall asking you." Maybe if he ignored him, he would just go away? Ed had reached the end of the deck, and thus, the end of the easy terrain. With one hand on his crutch and the other on the railing, Ed took the first step a little too fast, trying and failing to keep the wince off of his face when his automail leg made contact. The resulting shock that traveled through his thigh and up his spine had his muscles seizing in response to the unexpected pain. The air left his lungs in a rush, and the following gasp of air was rejected by his lungs.

Again? Now?!

He coughed hard, his sore chest heaving and tearing at his side. He leaned over the railing, three coughs in and already sending flecks of blood flying through the air to spatter in the mud below. His lungs would not stop their bloody revolt, heaving and rippling in their desperate attempt to rid his left one of continuously building fluid. His hand blindly pawed at his pocket, finally bringing up his stained handkerchief to help keep some of the blood off of Winry's handrail.

A few moments in and he had all but forgotten Mustang's presence. Being unable to breathe tended to narrow one's perspective on life. Eventually, his oxygen-deprived senses started to get a little spotty, his vision narrowing into a dark tunnel and only the sounds of his gasping and his own blood rushing made it through his ears. He was way too hot in that coat now, but had no strength with which to remove it.

More blood, more coughing. He even vomited twice for good measure, reminding him that he'd left before Al could give him his first alkahestry treatment of the day, and he was about to be due his second.

Which further cemented the fact that maybe it was a bad idea to run off without telling Alphonse.

Well, Ed was the king of poor decisions, after all.

Finally, an eternity later, the fit began to subside. He could breathe, albeit in shallow puffs, getting a small inhale before pushing it back out with a cough-like exhale. His throat was completely raw, and he was thankful for the moisture in the air that provided some relief with each inhalation.

Then he was made aware of the hand on his back.

Then the words, ". . . that's right, just breathe."

Ugh, why was this happening to him? He couldn't even die without Mustang around to annoy him. Besides, Mustang was supposed to be mad at him right now, not coddling him.

If Ed had possessed the energy and had the breath, he would have told Mustang to take a long walk off a short ledge.

As it was, Ed didn't even have the ability to move, the railing completely supporting his weight. He began to have the sinking feeling that he might not be able to make it home under his own power after all.

He became aware of Mustang saying something, but he missed the first half with the ringing in his ears, and the last half didn't make sense, so he closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing until things came back into focus.

"Ed?"

Ed managed a low groan in response, burying his forehead in the crook of his arm when the world suddenly started spinning.

"Do you need to stay here?" he asked, all of the previous irritation gone from his voice and replaced with a gentleness that Ed immediately hated. "I'll go back and bring Al and your medication. I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were . . . this bad off."

Offence stirred in Ed's still-nauseous gut. Bad off? "No." There was no way he was going back in there after just throwing up all over Winry's front flowerbed, and he sure wasn't going to let her watch Al try to give him medication or perform alkahestry on him. She'd already made some comment about him being too thin, and the last thing she needed to see was Al drawing intimidating circles on his bare, emaciated stomach. Lately Ed could hardly stand to look at himself in the mirror, much less without his clothing on to soften the mental blow. It was difficult to see himself physically wasting away, and if he struggled with it, it was not something to subject Winry to.

Besides, the idiot should have thought of that before dragging him outside in the first place.

Ed didn't have the breath to spare on giving Mustang an explanation—not that he deserved one—and proceeded to painstakingly drag his aching body up to stand on his own two feet, waiting for the dizziness to subside a bit. Without so much as an explanation, Ed began the long journey home, one painful step at a time.

Roy made an irritated noise that Ed ignored. "You are the most stubborn brat I've ever met."

Unfortunately, the string of curses rolling through Ed's brain were not making it out of his mouth. He settled for gritting his teeth and taking another step, another cough squeezing the air from his lungs, but not halting his progress.

He could do this. If he could commit the ultimate taboo, join the military, defeat criminals and homunculi and save the world all before the age of twenty, then he could walk himself home before nightfall.

He had to. Because if he couldn't, then he would be that much closer to being dead, and he really needed Mustang to understand that.

Mustang continued to grumble and hover and all-in-all, be completely obnoxious, and Ed continued to walk. He was careful to keep his eyes down and on the muddy road, because one misstep would pretty much do him in at this point. Ed's side was aching with a bone-burning intensity, and his automail port wasn't any better. He managed to avoid vomiting twice, but on the third time, had to stop to lean against a fence and throw up bloody stomach acid, vision swimming and head spinning with lightheadedness.

Mustang looked patently concerned, hovering beside him like some mother hen. "Ed, this is ridiculous. Let me help you."

"Screw . . . off," Ed panted, wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. Absolutely not. He would sooner lose the leg entirely than let Mustang carry him.

Except, that might mean Mustang having to carry him on a more frequent basis . . .

Ugh. No. Absolutely not. It was just a little walk, and they were already almost halfway there.

Well, maybe it was more like a third, but still, Ed could make it. He made it this far. Granted, it hadn't hurt this much the first time around, but still, that just proved he could do it.

And after a pep talk like that, he was just as surprised as anyone when he took two more steps forward, then passed out in the grass.

Okay, so I'm back?!

I apologize profusely for the insanely long hiatus. I mean, I haven't updated anything in over a year? Ugh.

To explain, I honestly have not been myself. I can with complete confidence say that from May last year to May this year has been the worst 12 months of my life. Not trying to be melodramatic (Rain? Melodramatic? haha) but it simply was. I'm sure I'll have even worse years than that in the future, but for now, that's #1 (like there's a prize or something haha). God is slowly but surely healing me, so I'm in a much better place than I was even a couple of months ago.

I'm going to do my best to get on with my haphazard excuse for an update schedule. I know that with this year break, I've probably lost a lot of readers. I'm sorry I left a lot of you hanging, and even had some messages that I just have not responded to in my absence. I did not have the energy to maintain everything, and I'm very sorry about that. If I overlooked your message, if you'd like to resend, I will respond this time around because I will actually be checking my email lol.

Thank you for your patience with me 3 I hope that you still enjoy this fic, and Dead on Arrival, which will also be updated soonish (I've been doing some writing lol). Hopefully you haven't completely forgotten them and it's pretty easy to pick back up :')

Thanks again, you guys are the best. Drop a review, if you have the time, and I will see you next chapter :)

God Bless,

-RainFlame