Roy knew something was different when he walked up to the Rockbell home later that afternoon to find Ed dozing on the bench out front and no one else in sight. He couldn't quite explain it except that something just struck him as being odd, like the house had a changed energy about it, and though he looked around to find an obvious source, nothing seemed to be out of place on the outside. The front door was ajar, so at least someone was probably checking on Ed frequently.

He thought about going inside, grabbing Riza and retreating back to the Elric house as he had intended. There was a lot to discuss, plans to put into motion, but the sight of Ed gave Roy pause.

He was slumped against the arm of the bench, head curled forward, long disheveled hair hanging over his eyes and hanging limp off of his slumped shoulders. The glass mask was sealed against his face, hissing quietly amid the afternoon breeze, and he had enough blankets on to make Roy sweat at the thought. Tubes snaked underneath and around him, all tying back a tree with several bags dangling from it and a tank of oxygen strapped at the base. He looked so tired, tired in a way that made Roy's soul hurt, his thin chest rising and falling just a bit too fast, the skin stretched over his frame just a bit too thin. His chin was stained red, and so were the edges of the blankets where he had wiped his mouth, and everything in Roy wanted nothing more than to give everything for the child that had already given everything.

There was nothing fair about what had happened to Ed. The child—no, he was a man now, Roy reminded himself—had given everything to save his family, his friends, and even the people of his country. He had all but given his life, and now his life was being demanded of him too.

It wasn't fair, and if Roy stopped to think about it instead of what he was doing, the grief might swallow him.

Ed had grown past being just a subordinate, and even past being some sort of adoptive son, though that strange dynamic had dominated a good part of their relationship. He had grown into a friend, like every parent hopes their child will become when they reach adulthood. An ill-tempered, obstinate, abrasive, but loyal friend. Roy couldn't have been prouder.

Roy approached, steps creaking under his boots, absorbing in the sight of him, relishing the way he just breathed, the way he was still alive. He brushed the boy's hair from his eyes, watching the reassuring puffs of air fogging against the glass of the mask.

Blond eyebrows twitched together, then his eyes cracked open, golden irises peering up at him with fuzzy recognition. He mumbled something against the glass, but Roy couldn't make it out.

Roy smirked down at him. "Good morning, short stuff."

Roy could clearly make out a groan this time around a wet cough, and maybe some sort of derogatory name, but he couldn't be sure. Ed sat up slowly, his arms quivering underneath him as he tried to leverage himself into a better position. Roy placed a hand under his arm to help and earned himself an annoyed glare, but he didn't take it back.

"Why are you out here by yourself?" he asked, another pointed look at the slightly opened door.

Ed lifted a hand to pull down his mask. Roy saw it quiver but chose not to say anything. "Winry just left, I think," he rasped. "I guess I kind of fell asleep."

"Kind of," Roy agreed, taking the vacant seat next to him.

Ed offered him another irritated glance, then turned his gaze back to the Resembool countryside. "Guess your timing is pretty good . . . There's something I need to ask you," he began, fiddling with his IV line, rolling it between his fingers nervously. "I haven't even asked Al yet. . . he's still asleep, and I probably should tell him first, but he's . . . who knows when he'll be out here . . ."

There was something decidedly rambling about Ed's words and Roy's curiosity was thoroughly piqued. "Spit it out before you choke on it."

Instead of the glare Roy thought would come his way, Ed kept his eyes firmly fixed on the horizon. "I asked Winry to marry me."

Roy arched an eyebrow. This wasn't news. "I know that."

"Again."

Oh.

That was news.

"Congratulations," he said, thumping Ed lightly on the shoulder. "Again."

Ed gave him a sheepish look. "You don't . . . think it's a bad idea?"

The hesitance in his voice was something novel for Edward Elric, and it gave Roy pause.

It was really none of his business; who was Roy to give someone advice on pursuing the love of their life, after all? But Ed rarely asked Roy's opinion on anything, much less anything of importance.

Or maybe in hindsight, those were the only times Ed had ever asked his opinion.

Roy pressed his lips together and leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees. "Ed, I think if you want to get married, you should get married."

"Even if I'm dying?"

Roy hoped he didn't visibly flinch. "None of us is guaranteed a set amount of time on this earth, Ed. There are plenty of people that are miraculously healed, and there are plenty of people that get hit by milk trucks. We don't know what tomorrow holds for us, we've just got now. So get married."

Ed seemed to visibly relax, his jaw loosening, shoulders sagging, like a heavy weight had been taken from them. He thought a moment before nodding. "Thanks, Mustang."

Roy smiled. "Any time."

A warm silence passed between them, and Roy tried to burn it into his mind; the way Ed looked, the way the light played through the trees and the shadows danced, the brilliant blue of the sky.

"I've . . . gotta ask you something else."

"Shoot."

"Will you . . . I mean, I don't exactly have a lot of family, and . . . we're getting married Thursday . . . you know, when Falman and . . . Breda get back . . . It's short notice and all, but . . ." The tips of his ears were a faint pink color, and just to see Ed blushing with the amount of blood loss he'd sustained was reassuring. "I can't . . ." He made a distressed sound in the back of his throat. "Al's gonna . . . he's my best man, of course, but . . . could you . . . Would you be my groomsman?"

Roy blinked.

Then he smiled, the cold cavity in his chest carved from weeks of strain and worry and fear filling with just a bit of warmth.

If anyone had told him even five years ago that he would not only be invited to the Fullmetal Alchemist's wedding, but would actually be asked to have a part in it, he would have asked what the man was drinking and have ordered the same.

Things certainly had a way of changing.

"I would be honored."

Ed's blush reddened slightly, but a hesitant smile pulled at his lips. "Thanks. . . I'm not good at this stuff, and . . . I know I . . . haven't ever . . . been easy to . . . get along with, but . . . I appreciate . . . ah," Ed gasped, pulling his mask up to take a few deep breathes, looking both embarrassed and frustrated, eyes creased with pain. Roy waited patiently until he pulled it down and continued. "I never told you how much . . . I appreciate what you've done. For me and Al."

Roy hated the way he said it. It sounded a lot more like last words than a "thanks for being my groomsman"; like something Ed wanted to get off of his chest before he couldn't.

Roy placed a hand on Ed's shoulder, the blond stiffening in response, locking uncertain eyes with Roy. "Ed. It's been my honor and my privilege, and it will continue to be."

That same small smile tugged at the corners of Ed's lips before his eyes went watery and the smile twisted into a tight grimace. He leaned to the side and coughed, the sound both weak and harsh. He kept hacking, hands fumbling for the mask around his neck in a vain attempt to suck in some oxygen, but it kept slipping from his shaking fingers.

Roy leaned over, snatching the mask in a strong grip and pressing it to Ed's face as he choked and gasped, blood splattering against the glass. One of Ed's hands grasped at his side, while the other scrabbled weakly against Roy's, but Roy didn't let go. Roy only managed to barely pull it aside in time for Ed to heave up bloody bile over the side of the bench.

After a few more dry heaves that produced nothing more than a bit of blood, he collapsed against the arm of the bench, weak and panting. His hand half-heartedly bumped against the mask, guiding it to his face.

All in all, this was a much more minor attack than his last one.

Roy stared hard as he willed his pounding heart to ease, looking for what Ed was hiding. He reached over, brushing the mask aside so he could wipe the gory remains away from the inside of the glass and Ed's mouth with the edge of a blue blanket. It was already ruined, anyway. Ed made a weak groan of protest, but Roy was already adept at ignoring him. "You said Al's been asleep. Have you had an alkahestry treatment today?"

Ed choked before he got a word out. "It's—"

"Say it's fine and I'll knock you off this bench," Roy promised, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing the piece of cloth Al had given him, an alkahestry circle painted across it in thick black strokes. He unfurled it with a flick of his wrist. "Shirt up."

Ed looked close to arguing, but then he winced and his breath hitched, his body caving to his injured side, and the way he frowned told Roy he'd thought the better of it. He kept his head on the arm of the bench, but pushed the blankets down, hesitantly lifting his shirt enough for Roy to press the circle against the peaks and valleys of his gaunt ribs and his concaved stomach. Ed tried to keep it covered with a thin hand, but Roy could see the white gauze taped to his side bright with fresh blood.

He didn't say anything, though he wanted to. Instead, he activated the circle with a force of will, the lines glowing gently as Ed's insides once more knit together, just a bit looser than before, always looser and never as perfect as it once was before his body ripped itself apart again.

One step forward, two steps back.

Ed's breathing seemed to ease, the rigidity of his spine relaxing just a bit. Roy leaned over and secured the mask to Ed's face once more. He blinked at Roy tiredly, but with that trace of irritation that Roy needed to know his fight wasn't completely gone yet. Roy still had a little more time.

Roy offered him a tight smile that he hoped didn't come off as a grimace, tucking the circle away in his pocket. "If you're quite finished, why don't we get you inside? I'm sure everyone will be excited to hear the wedding is on."

Ed's lip quirked and held this time. He started to say something in the mask, but Roy couldn't make it out and Ed seemed to realize it. "I'll take that as a yes," Roy interpreted, rising and helping Ed move into his chair.

He was so light.

Disgustingly light. Roy could have sworn he weighed more just two days ago.

Roy made sure he was resting comfortably, tucking the blankets around his thin frame before rolling him inside where the rest of the team waited to share the good news.

After all, any news that wasn't downright awful was welcomed at this point.

XxXxX

Alphonse was torn between wanting to hide in their childhood room forever and wanting to be at Ed's side for every waking minute. A new day meant new challenges and he wasn't sure if he was quite ready to face them.

He stared up at the familiar ceiling, and if he tried hard enough, he could almost imagine that he was eight again, he and Ed spending the night over at the Rockbell's because he didn't want to feel so alone in their empty house after their mom passed away. Ed had always obliged him when he got like that. Or he could almost imagine that he was still in the suit of armor and they came home for repairs, and Ed was snoring softly in the bed next to his, tormented and missing a limb or two, but alive and reasonably healthy.

He wasn't ready to live in a world without his big brother in it, and each day brought him closer to it.

And he still hadn't quite shaken the numbness from last night.

Summoning more energy than it should reasonably take, Al hoisted himself up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and planting his bare feet into the cool floorboards. He took a moment to just breathe, letting the air pool in his lungs before expelling it through his nose. He tried to rub the slow ache behind his eyes away with a fist, but it didn't work.

With a tired groan he stood up, made his bed, then passed Ed's untouched one on the way to the bathroom. Ed had only slept there a couple of weeks when they returned to Resembool, before they got their own place so he could better hide his illness from Winry.

The angle of the sunlight filtering through the window told him it was probably around noon. He hadn't slept this late since he was recovering from his time on the other side of the Gate, but Winry had sent him upstairs and told him not to come back down until he looked human. He caught the reflection of his bloodshot eyes in the mirror and decided that almost-human would have to do.

He showered quickly, combed his hair into some semblance of decency, then examined the pale scruff around his jawline. After searching in vain for a razor, he decided one more day of stubble wouldn't hurt.

Muted voices bubbled from downstairs as he walked down the hall. Everyone must have still been there, though he'd anticipated some would have wondered back down to the Elric house by now. When he descended the stairs, the mood wasn't exactly what he had been expecting.

It was almost . . . light?

Winry, Riza, and Fuery were in the kitchen making something—a batter of some sort, maybe bread? Havoc sat at the kitchen table, thumbing through a cookbook. Winry laughed at something Fuery said as the younger man whisked a couple of eggs. Everyone looked up when he entered, eyes glinting.

Al was immediately wary.

"Hey, Al," Winry greeted, her tone warm, almost enough to cover for the ache in her eyes.

Almost.

"Hey," he said. "What's . . . uh, what's going on?"

She dried her hands off on her apron before she removed it, tossing it over an empty kitchen chair. "Come on, Ed and I have something we need to tell you," she said, taking his hand.

Oh.

He felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips but didn't voice his suspicions. Instead, he let her lead him to the patient recovery rooms, the first door on the right past the operating theater.

Ed was sitting in his wheelchair, his long hair down and slightly damp, like he'd just had a shower. Roy was behind him, carefully combing the dull gold while Ed tried to button his shirt. His hands shook, and he reached up to tear the mask away in frustration to get a better view.

They both looked up as Al and Winry entered, Ed's mouth pulling into a tight, worried line while Roy just looked smug.

"Hey, Alphonse," Roy said, picking up a pair of shears.

Al blinked, then looked at Ed. "Are you getting a haircut?"

Ed scowled. "He bullied me into it."

Al looked at Roy. "You can cut hair?"

"I have more sisters than I know what to do with, so of course I can cut hair, but this—" Roy made a gesture over Ed's head "—is more like manicuring a sheepdog."

"If you were worth the trouble . . . I'd kill you," Ed promised irritably as Roy smirked and snipped off a good four inches from the back, still leaving it longer than he'd worn it before he got so sick, but it did somehow make him look healthier for it.

After Al got over the shock of it all, he found it sort of hilarious that Ed even let the man touch his hair, let alone cut it. Still, for his brother's dignity, he tried to stifle a smile. It had been a lot easier as a suit of armor. "How did you do it?"

Apparently Roy knew exactly what he was talking about. "I just reminded him that Miss Rockbell preferred it a bit shorter."

"Which was . . . a low blow."

"He's right, though," Winry said with a grin.

Ed blushed just a bit and looked away. "Yeah, yeah."

"So," Al began after a moment of enjoying Ed's discomfort. "I was told you guys had an announcement for me?"

There Ed went again with that weird, uncomfortable expression he'd given Al when he first walked in. Roy was back to his smirking as he put his shears down. "I'll be back shortly," he said, brushing a few damp locks of hair from his shirt as he dismissed himself from the room, shutting the door behind him.

Al stared at Ed.

Ed stared at Al.

Al arched an eyebrow and waited.

"Okay, you two," Winry sighed, drawing closer to Ed, taking his hand and turning so they both faced Al. Ed practically squirmed but intertwined his fingers through hers and glanced self-consciously between Al and the floor.

"Tell him!" Winry pressed.

Ed fidgeted. "Um—"

Al crossed his arms and grinned. "So, who proposed to whom?"

Winry's eyebrows shot up. "You knew?!"

Ed relaxed, a smirk taking his lips. "And here we were . . . trying to be discrete." He coughed into a handkerchief, but the smirk returned full force.

Al imagined he probably looked about as impressed as he felt. "For what, an hour?"

"Two," Winry sniffed primly.

"Will you . . ." Ed began, leaning a bit against Winry, like being upright in and of itself was exhausting. "Will you be my . . . best man?"

"Did you forget what I said last time?" Al asked with a smile.

"Just making sure," Ed said, but the edge had worn off of his smirk, leaving a smile that was a lot more genuine in its wake.

"I'm just hurt," Al said, putting a hand over his heart and stifling another grin, "that you told everyone else before me."

"You slept forever," Winry pointed out.

"And I told you . . . first last time," Ed wheezed. "You're lucky . . . you got over two. . . days' notice."

Without any sort of preamble, Al stepped forward, crouching down to his brother's eyelevel. Ed looked at him, golden eyes burning as he panted, but there was a peace there, an acceptance. Alphonse wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but he gently took Ed's mask and slipped it over his face. "Thanks for asking again, Brother."

Ed smiled through a wince, reaching out a frail hand to ruffle Al's hair in response, weak as moths' wings.

Later that day as everyone converged in the kitchen trying out frosting recipes and making plans and laughing, Al noticed Riza and Roy slipping out the front door, heading up the dirt road back toward the Elric house. He didn't think much of it; both of them were important people with important jobs they were putting on hold. Surely they had a lot of work to try to catch up on.

Sometime after midnight, as Al was leaving Ed's room to grab a drink of water, he saw Riza come back through the front door. Her eyes were red and swollen and Roy was nowhere in sight. Al opened his mouth to ask about it but before he could, he heard the familiar sounds of Ed retching. He promptly forgot about both his water and Riza.

What? Two fluffy-ish chapters in a row? Who'd have thought? xD I still can't sentence, but ya know, it's you poor guys that have to deal with it ;)

So, I just started a load of laundry and shut my laundry room door. Ten minutes later as I'm responding to reviews from the last chapter, I smell smoke. Open my laundry room door and BOOM. Filled with smoke. Like, the washing machine was on fire. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?! Like the dryer, I could see that, but the washer?!

All is well, though. I yanked the plug out of the wall in a fit of panic and the fire died.

And now to find a repairman.

And to find the years of life that were scared out of me.

Anyways, please drop a review if you have the time, and I'll catch you next chapter c:

God Bless,

-RainFlame