Well, the muse has, in a word, vacated. My holidays are now over, and it's back to studying full time, and the poor boy really doesn't like that kind of stress. (Yes, Boy.) Which means my brain has turned to mush as to how to continue this wretched plotline. I know where I want to GO and I know how I want it to END it's just filling in the gaps that's the problem. ANYWAYS, I'll try.

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Drip.... Drip... Drip...

Steady, meaningful and slow, the gentle drip of the sink off to the side of the small bathroom, itself connected to the small two bed room, gently encouraged Edward Elric to return slowly to his surroundings. Disorientation slowly disappearing.

Golden eyes flew open in a scowl, directed towards the innocent tap contained within the tiled recesses. Dark features grimaced as pain finally registered to the side of a pale face, and tingles danced spider-like up his side. Neither was nowhere near as excruciating as the boiling, burning, bubbling heat that came with the dream, or the fear and pain and scent of burning flesh, rather, they were uncomfortable.

"ALLLLL!!!!!!!!!" Anger glittered in gold dusted orbs as Edward remembered the 'how and why' of what had put him into a delusional dream. Though if it could truly be called a dream he did not know or understand, for dreams were not meant to be painful, but pleasant. He growled low in his throat, realising that his brother had, indeed, intended for him to stay home and in bed, for he was once again dressed in his pyjamas instead of his clothes.

After his call, he could have sworn he felt the whole house, whole neighbourhood even, flinch with fear at his formidable temper.

Sheets went flying off the bed, as in a haste, Fullmetal leapt out of the bed, and down the stairs two at a time. Thud thud thud thud and thud. And there Al was, sitting sheepish on the end of the couch, and Ed felt his anger melt slightly. Only slightly.

"I'm sorry, Brother, the colonel was quite forceful." Were the first words out of his brother's mouth. Edward scowled, rubbing the side of his face gently. No doubt he'd have a bruise soon.

In reply to his brother, Edward said nothing, instead, he moved over to the kitchen, where a pot of coffee was slowly brewing.

"Brother! You are still talking to me, aren't you?" Al sounded slightly worried at the prospect that his brother would be cruel enough to ignore him, after such a small thing as a punch to the side of the head.

Edward bit back a growl of 'no', and instead whispered, "Of course I am... but you did punch me, Alphonse." Which in itself indicated how thoroughly infuriated Edward was. He never called his brother by his full name, unless he was worried, or incredibly angry with the aforementioned.

Al visibly flinched.

"But brother, I only did it because the colonel said to keep you at home no matter what!" Al pleaded, trying to get the blonde boy's head to turn, so that he could look him in the eyes. The red back was rigid and tense, signs of sleep depravation and anger.

Edward sighed, for once, wishing his brother would stop talking. Abandoning the coffee in a furtive search for painkillers, for the dull throb in his side and his head, he shuffled determinedly through the cupboards and drawers.

"I'm going in anyway." He muttered under his breath, knowing that once he took the painkillers he would be fine, and most likely that a certain bastard of a colonial would have a mission for him. Maybe that was all he needed, a break from it all, and the dreams would stop, and he could finally get on with a non-sleep deprived life. He sighed, knowing how incredibly unlikely it was that a dream that could cause him pain (He still remembered the exact level of excruciating said pain was) would stop at a small break away.

"Brother?" Al's childish, and tinny voice sounded from the living room, a tinge worried and desperate.

Having finally located the pain killers in the cutlery drawer ("Why the hell were they in THERE?") and taking three with a glass of water, Edward finally turned to face his younger brother.

The large suit of armour held itself in a distinctly worried position, the horn on his head trembling ever so slightly. Edward forced himself to look into the harsh features of his brother's face once more. "I'm going to work." He flatly announced, and Al sighed, letting him past and to the door.

"Brother?" He heard when he was at the door, his right hand on the knob, and not feeling any of the texture up from his prosthetic limb. He ignored the call, instead opening the door and walking out into the cold winter air.

Colonel Mustang was what you would call a resourceful man. He had a larger spy network than that of the national department for such business, he had time off, and he had the most powerful and skilled alchemist known under his direct command. Which is why he was reasonably smug. He was allowed to be.

However, smugness and resourcefulness aside, he was also incredibly lazy. Which is why, when first lieutenant Risa Hawkeye came to give him paperwork, he put on every excuse in the book to get out of them. Unfortunately for the Colonel, Risa had read 'the book', and she had memorised every page.

This was why he could be found, on a Thursday afternoon in the middle of winter bent over his desk, reading and signing leaf upon leaf of paper and searching for a distraction. And when he found one, he was most displeased.

There was a loud crash as his door swung open, inducing his head to snap up, storm black eyes immediately fixed upon the mop of messy gold hair storming into his office and throwing itself down upon one of his two leather couches. The peach skin directly below this had a slightly pinched look, and was ever so rosy from the brisk cold outside the warmed office. Gold eyes met his with a glare, and black, leather clad legs were crossed, in the very picture of arrogance and disobedience.

His 'most powerful and skilled alchemist known' was in a bad mood, as usual, and Roy had a good inclination as to why.

"You bastard." Edward spat, glaring at the colonel, a mixture of thankfulness (That no doubt he would never admit to) and seething anger on his features.

Roy felt one eyebrow rise, and deliberately smirked at the boy, to further increase his anger. "For telling you to take the day off? Well, in future, when you ask for a sick day, you won't get it then, because obviously you don't want one." His smirk grew, as Edwards' fuse began to fray.

"No, you bastard, for telling my fucking little brother to KNOCK ME UNCONSCIOUS so I wouldn't come in today." Edward replied, trying, and failing miserably to keep a hold of his temper.

"Unconscious? Me? Tell Alphonse? When?" The feigned innocence would not work, and Roy knew it. It was strange how the colleague that you least agreed with could get to know you the best, for another just might have bought his expression.

"On the phone to him this morning you bastard."

"The phone?"

"Yes, the thing on the wall that rings and allows instantaneous communication without being face to face. Phone. P.... h... o..." Roy cut across Edward's rather sarcastic explanation.

"I am aware of what a telephone is, Fullmetal." His voice was ice cold and deathly serious. "However, what I must object to is one of my subordinates coming in to work when they are clearly in no position to do so. While that gunk under your eyes may fool your brother, it does nothing to fool me."

"You don't have a clue what's best for me, Mustang." The boy replied, his eyes darkening as his secret was easily revealed. His hair sparkled like a cobweb caught in the sun, setting spectacularly behind the office, unaware of the clash of egos slowly brewing within.

Roy closed his eyes, and with a small sigh, he directed the whole of his attention towards the boy. "Fullmetal, if you truly believe that you can continue to work when you are dead on your feet and literally falling asleep in front of me this very instant..." Fullmetal straightened his back and glared. "Then I have a mission for you..."

Edward flinched at the malevolent tone used.

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Okies, phew. That want south quite quickly, didn't it? Excuse the terribleness, but I'm trying to lighten the mood a little before the real action starts. I also thought I'd do a little preview of the next chapter.

COMING SOON:

Edward gulped, his eyes darkening as the train thudded to a stop in the dull gloom. At least two hours remained until his destination, and anger and worry flickered in his eyes, when he heard a familiar voice. "Fullmetal Alchemist, the great goddess Ishbala orders your blasphemy to be stopped."

Hehe... Things are going to get veeeerrrry interesting soon.