Disclaimer: Didn't own it last time, don't own it this time.

A/N: Revamp!

Chapter 4: Sleep

"Isabel?"

Ed's voice brought her back. At his curious look, she shook her head. "Nothing, just idle thoughts," she told him and finished examining the stone. "Nothing really important."

Suddenly, lightning cracked the sky in the distance. Ed stood up and nodded. "We should be going," he said.

Isabel nodded as and stood as well. Just as she did, though, a fat raindrop fell onto her nose.

"Winry'll kill me if my auto-mail gets too wet," she heard him mumble vaguely.

"She really cares for you, Ed," Isabel told him.

"No, she's just worried about her precious auto-mail," Ed grumbled, as though he regretted that.

Isabel rolled her eyes. "Come on, little brother," she cajoled. She could literally feel her old disposition emerging out from the dusty case she'd ruthlessly shoved it into. "Stop kidding yourself. Haven't you seen her face when she's fixing your auto-mail?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he said, "she's pissed."

Isabel shook her head. "Only when you first break it. Earlier, I was thinking about that day. Do you remember when we'd come back from the river and you fought with Al and the…um, major?"

Ed nodded again. "Al and I really got him." He cackled evilly to himself at the memory.

"Well, Winry came out and saw you'd already damaged your arm. I went in to make sure you hadn't killed each other since you'd both gone quiet." They turned a corner and the other two came into view. Quickly, Isabel finished with, "She actually looked happy and content to fix your arm rather than something else." She purposely left out the part about how Ed looked.

"Yeah, well," he said. He probably wouldn't be able to come with a good argument for that quickly, Isabel thought, but she was wrong. "Well, she finds this—" he pointed at his arm "—easier since she knows it inside and out."

Isabel sighed. She didn't want to argue with her brother, not on their first day back together. She smiled at Al when she and Ed reached where Al and Winry were still sitting. Winry smiled back to Isabel and stood.

"Ed, are you keeping your auto-mail dry?" she asked. Then she nodded approvingly of him keeping his arm close to him. "I still want to have a look at it later, just in case."

Isabel looked at her brother knowingly, as if she were saying, "I told you so!" Ed rolled his eyes at her and continued walking.

"You don't need to look at it, it's fine," he grumbled at Winry. He cast a helpless look at Al and Isabel, as though pleading for them to intervene.

Al held up his hands, signaling he wasn't going to get involved. After a pleading gaze was cast back at Isabel, she shook her head. "If your mechanic wants to look at your arm, you should let her, Ed. You don't need it to rust, eh?" she said. To enunciate her point, she gave Ed a little shove towards Winry. "You three go ahead, I'll catch up and walk with one of the guards." She waved them away.

The three started to walk away, Al silent, Ed complaining, and Winry brandishing her wrench at the blond headed boy. Isabel smiled vaguely and stepped away from her spot. Immediately, she saw one of the guards moving towards her, but she turned to shoot a threatening look at him.

"I'll be fine," she said boldly. "I'll return shortly. Do not follow." After a few piercing gazes set on the people surrounding her, she set off. If they followed, they would probably feel guilty later on. As she started walking again, the rain started pouring down.

Isabel returned to the spot she and Ed had been earlier. After looking around, on some strange instinct, she sat down on the bench again. It was wet already, but so was she. Her blond hair started to cling to her cheeks and her shoulders. The clothes that Riza had just bought her stuck to her. Her socks were beginning to soak closer to her feet through the boots. But she didn't mind any of that. She didn't mind the rain.

The tears flowing down her face were for a completely different reason. She wept for a reason she would never tell anyone else, a reason she hardly dared to admit to herself. She had been crying for about five minutes when the storm started to worsen and she saw the blue-uniformed guards appearing here and there. She tried to stop the tears, but they kept coming.

"Stop," she ordered. "This is foolish. There's no need for you to cry." But she continued still. She shook her head. "This is ridiculous. What are you crying for?" Finally, they began to subside. "There's nothing wrong. Just because it's been years since you really cried doesn't mean you can just drain yourself in one sitting."

Isabel stood up and wiped her cheeks. After she stepped forward, one of the guards came into view. She rolled her eyes at him. "Very well, let's go," she consented and started towards headquarters.

---------------------

Later that evening, Edward tossed and turned. He had never done well when he'd had to live in the dorms of the headquarters building. Though the nights had been few, they were memorable since he had hardly slept for all the noise down the halls: soldiers returning from a night partying, on night duty, or whatever. They'd all made too much noise for Ed. But that wasn't the reason he was unable to sleep tonight.

Actually, things were rather quiet in the halls. He had too much on his mind at the moment. It had not only been a long day, but a long six months.

From the start of this fiasco, he had felt so many things. He'd felt anger and love, pain and sincerity, loneliness and closeness. He'd felt exposed and enclosed at the same time. He'd been confused, yet knew every answer. Things had been a myriad of emotion to him over the past few months. When Isabel had first come into his life, he'd been baffled at first. Then he had accepted her over a very short amount of time. He'd felt at home with her. The love she still felt for him and Al, despite that Ed had shunned her at first glowed when she looked at them. For one of the few times since their mother had died, Ed felt at home. No one, not even Al, made him feel like he could really be himself.

He had too many burdens that he didn't want Al involved with. One of the topmost was what Al thought of him because of the body he was in. Ed didn't want his brother to hate him because of it. It had been all Ed could do then. If there'd been anything more convenient, then Ed would have gone for that. But he rather liked having his brother there as a large suit of armor. He was good for intimidation of their foes. Not that he would admit that any time soon, though.

After Isabel had supposedly "died" to them, Ed had sat in a daze for at least a week. Had that day actually been real? Had those few hours really existed? Or had they only been just a figment of his imagination, brought on from the pain? When Ed had finally left his trance, he saw that Al was mourning in his own way, but seemed to be handling it well enough.

Ed knew he'd worried everyone else. He hadn't eaten anything; he buried himself in his thoughts and training with Al, anything to take his mind off of Isabel. About three weeks after that day, he had convinced himself she had been real and he hadn't been hallucinating. Why would the other three members of his house have been in mourning for something, unless Ed had missed it?

For the following months, he had ignored everyone's worry. He had dismissed Al without a thought. Auntie Pinako had been wise to leave him alone mostly. But what he hated himself most for was how cold he'd been to Winry. If Winry had done anything, she'd been by his side the entire time. Yet he had pushed her away like she meant nothing.

That was a lie. Winry meant everything to him. He would never admit that, either. Not to anyone. Ever since he'd been young, he had felt something for Winry. He hadn't been able to recognize it until only recently, most likely today when Isabel pointed out how she liked to work on his arm. Winry had begged to look at his arm to make sure it wouldn't rust. Ed normally would have figured it was so she could indulge in her obsession with machines. Maybe it was for a completely different reason.

And since Ed was being honest with himself, he didn't mind Winry poking around at his mechanical shoulder in the least. He actually enjoyed it sometimes, until her screwdriver came in contact with a wire set up for a nerve. Then he would be come frustrated when his entire arm twitched and sent a strange sensation through his body. He'd yell then. Winry would yell back.

He supposed they bickered so often because they couldn't think of any other way to express themselves. Every time he shouted at her, he felt like he was telling her something other than the words coming from his mouth. One day, he had shouted something completely out of the ordinary at her and then been embarrassed because of it. It had brought a bright, almost humiliated stain to his cheeks and caused him to flee the kitchen immediately. That had been one of the few days he had come out of his depressed stupor long enough to take part in some outside activity.

Winry would often come to visit him on the balcony. She'd attempt to speak with him, but he would brush her off and ignore her. Sometimes he would even snap at her. Any other day, he would have felt guilty because of it, but he'd been too angry and bitter to have room for anything else. They had only been trying to help, but all he could do was yell and be ungrateful. It was all Ed could do now not to hate himself for being that way towards the only family he had.

When he and Al trained by the lake, they would normally talk between attacks. But during that time, Ed would be so determined he could only focus on losing his anger. There were times when he would come close to beating Al, so he would let up a little. No sense in letting Al's winning streak for many years running go to waste. Besides, there were plenty of other things for Ed to vent any extra wrath on.

After they had finished their mock battles, Ed would stare out into the distance, ignoring the lack of breath he was feeling and the sweat coating him. Occasionally, he would walk into the cold water of the lake to freeze all feeling. When he started shivering uncontrollably, he would go back to the house. Normally, Al was reading or in some discussion with Auntie Pinako when Ed came back. Winry would pitch a fit that he was soaked and his auto-mail would probably start to rust soon.

He hadn't cared then. Nothing had mattered, not even his own life or the Philosopher's Stone.

Then just a few days ago, he'd heard the news. It had been like a place in heaven had been thrust at him. He hadn't known what to do with it. Take it or leave it, take it or leave it? But when he'd heard that ending comment from Mustang, his decision had been made. He had taken his place and strapped up for the ride. No way he would miss the chance to find out his deepest desire the past few months had driven upon him.

Within that hour, the quartet made up of Major Armstrong, Al, Ed, and Winry had jumped upon the first train they could and blazed a trail to East City. During those three days on the train, Ed had been so anxious. He'd felt so exposed, like everyone could see his flaws and weaknesses. He had felt like his soul was bared to the entire world for them to see that he was unsure of himself for once in his life. But no one had been reading him; no one had taken advantage of his displayed emotions. They had merely left him alone until it was absolutely necessary to speak with him.

Then had been his surprise. When he'd reached East City Station, it had been empty. That was unusual for East City. Had it been cleared for a reason? There hadn't been anyone else on the train. Ed hadn't found that unusual then. But now he wondered if Mustang had intentionally cleared the station and secured them a train on purpose. That man did weird things with his time. Everyone knew he didn't do his work when he was supposed to.

In Headquarters, Ed had rushed ahead of everyone else to Mustang's office. When he'd reached the door, something had stopped him. It had been that nagging voice in the back of his mind he'd heard for the past three and a half days. It had been telling him that Isabel wouldn't be there in East City. His hopes had been for nothing, and he would just pine away in loss. Only when he'd felt Winry place her hand on his shoulder—his real shoulder—had he summoned up his courage again to enter the room.

He'd opened the door and looked in. The second he'd looked at Isabel, all emotion had been cleared from his mind. He'd felt nothing at all. Then things had come back to him in a rush that he barely understood. He didn't even try to fight it when the impulse to run to her had overcome him. He had only followed what he'd been feeling. Hadn't he done that in the past and things had turned out well?

There had been hesitation in them both. Neither had been used to physical contact with anyone and the discomfort was apparent. But Ed had discarded it and embraced his sister. Secretly, he'd wanted to let go and bawl on her shoulder like a little boy, to release all of the pent up emotions he'd felt over the past months. But he had overcome that. He wasn't little anymore and he wouldn't shed a tear for that—in public, at least.

Then, in the park, he had felt a little uneasy, especially when he and Isabel had gone off to walk on their own. But they had only talked about things that had kept them busy and things of the present. The surface of the past had only been scratched a little, and it had been for the better Ed felt. They would deal with things slowly until they could all talk and maybe even laugh about it.

No, they wouldn't laugh about this. Maybe be able to talk about it more casually than they did now. Now, they were all on edge, waiting for someone to talk about that day. At least he was. He had so many things he wanted to tell everyone, so many things that no one would ever know. There were so many emotions kept up inside of him that were so personal and enigmatic. No, he would never tell anyone any of the things he'd felt during those six months.

So why did he feel the need to seek someone out and explain his soul to them, tell them every detail of his life, expose what made him tick, bare all his secrets? Why? Hadn't he just vowed to himself that no one would know any of his motives unless they were already on the surface?

He was so confused now. How was he going to figure any of this out? It was all a mess, a puzzle scattered in his mind, perhaps with a few pieces missing.

He was also tired.

Ed yawned and turned onto his side. With one fleeting look at the form on the other side of the room, consciousness drifted away from him until he knew sweet nothing, lovely oblivion.

-----------------

Al stared up at the ceiling. He was used to never sleeping anymore, like he was used to never eating. Instead of his mind being occupied by slumber, it was entertained with either idle thoughts or the vast expanse of nothingness. That was the closest he came to sleep, focusing on what he was, or wasn't. What if something happened to the blood seal on his armor? Would he disappear forever? Would he go away, even if the seal were smudged? That wasn't something he would even want to try.

It had never really bothered him that he couldn't sleep anymore. But this particular night, he wouldn't mind ignoring the thoughts in his mind for once. So many things had been going on lately that it was hard to sort them out. He could place everything correctly, but it would take a while, maybe the entire night, to do that. He wouldn't have minded much any other night, but he just wanted to sleep.

Instead of mercy granting him this one time, thoughts assailed every corner of his mind. He shuddered as it appeared his entire life was flashing before his eyes. Scenarios passed through quickly, hardly giving him time to register them. But the memories seemed to implant themselves someplace he would always remember them. Times he wished he would forget, times he thought he'd forgotten; they all came back to him.

Al sighed. He would just have to succumb to another sleepless night, accompanied only by his thoughts while his brother slept.

---------------------

Isabel sighed in her sleep. It had been a tough battle to find slumber, but she had won in the end. Her mind had wanted to stay awake while her body was screaming to go to sleep. She was exhausted. There had been many a night she had stayed awake for days at the psychiatric ward, but then she had actually been on some type of medication to keep her that way. Now, it seemed her body wanted to make up for those lost hours while her mind was just…there, drifting somewhere.

Not only had those memories tried to keep her awake, but also memories of things she had forgotten. She remembered her childhood with her brothers. She even remembered her mother a little. If she tried hard enough, she could see her father, but his image was a vague one.

But finally, she had defeated the thoughts trying to overwhelm her mind and stolen sleep. But it wasn't the sleep she'd asked for.

--------------------

Running. Her legs ached from running so much. How long had she been running? Would she ever stop? How far had she gone? Was she running from something? Was she running to something? What would she be running to? Was something chasing her? What would be after her? What did she have to run to? Why had she wanted to run in the first place?

Her lungs hurt from breathing so hard, gasping in a breath every few steps. She had to force her breath out to keep going, to not hold it in so she could run more. Her throat burned from the harsh, ragged breathing she forced upon herself. The rare moments when she would take the time to breath normally, her breath was raspy and coarse. It hurt so badly.

She stumbled on a rock. Her balance was almost thrown off, but she regained it quickly. She kept running. Instinctively, she turned her head to look behind her, just to see if something was following her. Just as she caught sight of a form in the horizon, the ground moved from beneath her feet. She whipped her head back to face forward and looked down. Nothing.

She was standing on nothing. Her surroundings suddenly disappeared. She turned in quick circles, looking around. In the distance, she saw the silhouetted figure still after her. Her mind screamed for her to move, but her legs wouldn't listen. She knew she had to move, but she was stuck in that one place.

The shape was still running towards her, fast. How could someone have that much speed? It was almost amazing how quickly it was advancing on her area of nothingness. When the outline started to come into distinguishable lines, it was almost too late for her to run.

---------------------

Isabel gasped and sat bolt upright in the bed. She lifted her hands. They were shaking almost violently and she couldn't stop them. She touched her face. There was a cold sweat running down her cheeks and forehead. Her breath came much as it had in the dream: ragged and raspy. She swallowed the lump in her throat and let out a long, shaky breath. That had been some dream. That one hadn't plagued her in a long while, at least six weeks.

She looked around the room. Riza was asleep on the other side of the room. Or was she? The younger woman listened to the first lieutenant's breathing patterns for a few moments.

"Riza," Isabel murmured. No response. "I know you're awake. I need some paper."

Riza turned to her side. "There's some on the desk," she mumbled.

Isabel nodded and slid from the couch. She padded over to the desk and sat down. Her hands were still shaky, and it was a task for her to have even made it halfway across the room on her wobbly legs. But she grabbed a pen and tried to steady herself. After setting a sheet of paper just slanted right, she started to write down her dream. Her words were a little jerky when her trembles increased but she was able to control them well enough to write her dream out.

When she finished, Isabel felt very tired again. She stood up and stretched a little before going back to the couch. The moment she laid her head down on the pillow again, she was back into a peaceful slumber.

-------------------

Riza Hawkeye was awake a little after dawn. It had taken her a few minutes, but sometime after Isabel had asked for some paper, she'd fallen back asleep. But the first lieutenant had been awake a little longer than just those few minutes. She'd been awake when Isabel had started dreaming. The girl had tossed and turned, so it was obvious it hadn't been a good dream. Then to hear her gasping when she'd woken up had been enough to confirm to Riza that it had been a nightmare.

As she was going through her morning duties, Hawkeye stopped at the desk to find her documents for a meeting. Then she came across a paper with handwriting she didn't recognize on it. After reading the first line, the date and approximate time, she knew it was Isabel's. When she read more, it turned out to be the dream she'd had. When she finished reading the paper, she started taking notes on a clipboard to give to someone of a higher command concerning it.

"Learn something new?"

Riza dropped the clipboard back on the desk and gasped. She turned to look at the couch. Isabel was lying there, exactly how she'd been before Riza had started reading the sheet of paper. Her eyes were still closed in that peaceful way one could only achieve when in slumber. How long had she been awake?

"I didn't know you were awake," the older woman said.

Isabel smirked a little. "Obviously."

Riza let out a little sigh. "I see we're more for words today," she said and continued writing notes.

The younger girl sat up on the couch and shook her head. "Why did you read it?" Isabel asked quietly. "You knew it was something private, yet you still went on."

"Curiosity, I guess. I was wondering what had woken you up last night," Riza replied, signing the paper to turn in.

"Don't."

She turned to look at Isabel. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't turn the notes in." Isabel finally looked at Riza. There was sadness in her eyes. "I have dealt with my dreams on my own for the past six months. I don't need anyone else interfering with them. Please." She immediately looked away.

Riza thought a moment. "They just seemed a little bizarre, and considering where we found you, I thought that Colonel Mustang should know about them," she said. "It wouldn't be right if I kept them to myself."

Isabel stood. "Just think, Riza. I wasn't in that psychiatric ward because I'm crazy. You can see that for yourself. I was there because they wanted to test how an alchemist's brain works, see how the alchemic reactions process and just how we turn things into what we need. Even I couldn't tell you that now, being an alchemist myself. If you submit those notes to the colonel, then that will put me in another mess of trouble aside from having tests run on me. It may sound self-centered, but I don't want to have my joy taken away from me so soon again." She wrapped up her monologue by looking out the window. "So I beg of you, don't show them to anyone else."

The first lieutenant was silent. "I can't just let this go unnoted, Isabel. It could hold some significance as to why you were there in the first place, some key to something."

She shook her head. "I'll tell the colonel or somebody when I feel like I can trust them enough not to turn me over to them again," Isabel mumbled. "I'm going to shower."

The young girl walked over to the desk, picked up her paper and stood before Riza. Reluctantly, the older woman handed over the notes to Isabel. She left the room wordlessly after that.

Riza sighed. Why did things always happen to her? Why couldn't she just say no to the girl and stand by it for just once in their short friendship? She knew she would regret letting Isabel have her way about the notes. She could just see the outcome and the tongue-lashing she was to receive from Colonel Mustang. Nothing pleasant.