I finally found time for an update. It's been so hard getting at the computer. I actually woke up to my alarm this morning. That gave me another hour, as opposed to the ten minutes I have when I get home.
Disclaimer: I don't own it, wish I did.
"Is he okay?" he heard someone ask.
Who was that? Why did he sound familiar?
"He's burned and has inhaled far too much smoke for his own good," said another voice.
He didn't recognize this one.
He mumbled incoherently, trying to ask who was there, what was going on. But he couldn't make his voice work right and his eyes wouldn't open.
Was this what it felt like to die? Or was it what it felt like in hell?
Hands reached down and touched his face. Rough callused hands. These hands had seen a lot. He leaned into it, feeling how cool it was from the snow outside and the painful burns on his own face. It seemed to be all that was keeping him attached to Earth.
He finally got his eyes to open a bit, then immediately closed them again. The bright light above him put everything into perspective.
What had happened?
He'd been an idiot and burned down his own house with his life's work inside, that's what.
What was going on?
He was obviously in a hospital somewhere. Where else did they hang a bright light over your face? Nowhere else he could think of.
He opened his eyes again and looked up into the worried face of Stephen O'Kelly. He was happily blocking the light from view. It was a few minutes longer before he found his voice.
"Wh-Where's Robby?" He mumbled. "Where's Edvard?"
"They're around here somewhere. They didn't decide to stick around in a burning building, thought, so they aren't getting the bright light and the hard bed." Stephen's look at this point informed Alphonse that he was a crazy bastard and shouldn't forget it.
"I don't think I can move," Alphonse observed.
"No, I don't think you can," said the stranger as he shoved Stephen over and bent down to examine his face. "You're badly burned, after all."
He had a British accent. Alphonse looked at him. He must have been the doctor, as far as Alphonse could tell.
"I had to tell them about you," Stephen said. "I'm sorry. They pretty much figured it out, anyway."
Alphonse frowned. "I almost died. I broke my promise, too," he said. "I should be begging your forgiveness."
"I'm about to be sent back to America. You could come with me," Stephen offered, yet again.
"Dat vould be nice, but vouldn't dey vant to put me on trial or somet'ing?" Alphonse asked. "Not like I'd get avay from it anyvay."
Ed appeared over him then.
"Are you going to lay there all day, or are you going to get your ass out of bed?" the small blonde demanded.
"I'm fine, danke," Alphonse croaked.
"I think I've figured out how to get back home. Unless you want me to stay longer, I'm going home as soon as I can. Robby too," Edward said. "Of course, that won't be for a couple of months, because he has to order something for me."
"Good," Alphonse said. "I'm going back to sleep now."