Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.


Chapter 16: Awakening

"General. General?" The voice was low, but insistent. The dark-haired man buried his head deeper into the rather hard pillow and valiantly tried to ignore the buzzing sound in his ears. "Mustang. You have to get up now. And will you please let go?" The speaker was now engaging in a tug of war with him over his blanket, and he was quite determined not to lose. He yanked harder and snuggled smugly into his prize as the other party gave up with an irritated sigh. Ha. Take that. There was a pause, and then the voice dropped half an octave as it purred warningly, "Roy…wake up or I'll get an orderly to fetch Captain Hawkeye, and I'd really rather not, given that she'd happily put a bullet hole in my coat to get to you."

Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist, Major General and current ranking officer on what was starting to become known as the Battlefield Of The Drachman Rout, shot upright on the rickety cot and regretted the abrupt motion almost immediately as his battered ribs creaked in protest. He wrapped his arms protectively around his middle, blinking blearily as he tried to bring the world back into focus, his neck stiff from the awkward angle at which his head had been lying against the singularly inadequate pillow. "How long have I been out?" he muttered to the as yet unidentified speaker, taking refuge in military habit. "Coffee. Status report."

"About an hour. You could probably use twice that, but duty calls, I'm afraid," and a mug was thrust into his groping hand. "Here, drink that. And everything appears to be under control, except that one of the division G1s insists he needs to see you and you have a staff meeting in half-an-hour." Roy obediently bent his head, his features melting into an expression of pure bliss at the aromas wafting from the standard issue battered tin cup. He inhaled deeply twice, almost ceremoniously, and then as the first scalding sips went down, reality seeped back into his sleep-befuddled mind in a jumbled rush of images and sensations. Breathing shallowly because of the tape wrapped tightly around his ribs. The pain and the light-headedness. Falling. Being caught. The pleasant dream he had been having about Ed being here and finally being able to tell him…wait a minute. Oh dear.

Auric. He felt his face flush as he tried to remember what – if anything – he had actually said out loud before passing out unceremoniously.

The Gatekeeper plopped down in the folding chair by Roy, holding his own mug of coffee and swinging his feet up to rest on the edge of the cot. He looked annoyingly well-rested, Roy observed resentfully, still struggling to recall what had happened after Auric had tucked him in. The resilience of youth, no doubt, and some part of his thought must have made it to his face, because a look of smug amusement flitted across the blonde's face as he nodded towards Roy's rapidly cooling coffee. "Drink up, go on, I…persuaded…the Colonel who wanted you to come back in twenty minutes," and a glint in the Gatekeeper's golden eyes suggested that he had been forced to be less than polite. "It's going to get cold and that would be a waste, given what I had to go through to get it." Roy's brows arched upwards in inquiry, and Auric rolled his eyes. "It seems some idiot quartermaster forgot to include coffee among the victuals dubbed 'necessary supplies' when they finally got the supply lines open again, and I had to transmute the coffee grounds from cocoa and tealeaves. Don't worry, I've already sicced Hawkeye on the guy." He sipped from his own mug cautiously. "Tastes all right though. I am good."

The caffeine was finally kicking in, and Roy summoned up the wherewithal to smirk faintly. "I'm pleased that you were able to perform such a delicate transmutation without my oversight. And I can see that you have everything well in hand. So glad to see that adopting Ed's persona hasn't dulled what little finesse you had, Gatekeeper."

"Who are you calling littler than a coffee-bean, you ungrateful bastard?" fumed Auric, teetering back on the flimsy folding chair as he brought his boots back down to earth with a thump. "I saved your life! Again! I spared you the embarrassment of having one of your men find you sleeping on the job!" He drew in an outraged breath, and declaimed in ringing, accusing tones, "I made you coffee – literally - which the rest of the camp would kill for. And might I just point out that that last was not in your contract?"

Roy considered this judiciously, tipping his head back as he watched the younger man through his lashes and adopted a mock-thoughtful expression. "The first two might fall under 'doing whatever it takes,' don't you think? And as for the other thing, well…" he toasted the younger man mockingly, "rank hath its privileges."

Auric glared at him. "You're lucky I actually care about my reputation for never having lost a client or you would be so dead right about now."

To his surprise, Roy inclined his head in acknowledgement and made no biting comeback. "I do realize that. And thank you for the coffee." An awkward silence fell, as both men gathered their thoughts. Auric fiddled absently with the end of his braid, debating whether he should bring up what had happened – wondering if the man even remembered. Mustang had definitely been sliding into the delirium of exhaustion at that point, so there was a decent chance not. He had to admit it was a relief to see the General pulling himself together - this was infinitely preferable to the pallid figure he had watched worriedly for the past hour. The warm coffee was bringing a touch of colour to the man's pale cheeks, highlighting the elegance of his bone structure, although his eyes were still slightly too glassy-bright, and Auric found himself looking – really looking – at the General, at the slender dark brows that could be as expressive as words, at the shadowed eyes that could sparkle with inner fires often kept banked and hidden from public view, at the graceful lines of throat and collarbone revealed by his rumpled, half-open shirt.

At least Ed had had good taste in men, if not clothes.

"Your hair's a mess," observed Roy finally, drawing his legs up gracefully to sit cross-legged on the cot. He knew he should be readying himself for his staff meeting, but some small part of him wanted just a few more moments in this oddly restful intimacy.

"That's why I usually keep it tied back," Auric sighed, undoing the end of the braid and letting his hair fall free as he shook it out. Even knotted and tangled from the day's exertions, it held a hypnotic beauty, a curtain of rippling yellow gold, full and thick. "It's too long to braid myself unless I pull it forward over my shoulder, but then it doesn't lie back out of my way. Maes had to do it for me – guess he's had enough practice with Alicia." He looked guiltily at Mustang, hesitated, then bit the bullet. "Look, Mustang…I really am sorry. About the charade, I mean. Although it was Colonel Hughes's idea, I did go along with it…eventually…and I don't think we really thought past what would happen…after. Battle has a certain immediacy that precludes much thought beyond it, you know."

Clamping down hard on the irrational streak of jealousy that shot through his veins at the thought that Maes had gotten to run his fingers through that amazing silken fall, Roy focused on the more immediate crisis, namely, the sinking realization making itself known in the pit of his stomach. He knows about Ed, the intensely private man thought bleakly. Breathe. Just breathe. Auric was obviously trying to be deferential to Roy's feelings in not bringing up the subject directly, and the compassion of that act somehow made it all the worse. The alchemist struggled to calm his roiling emotions even as it felt as though all the air in his lungs was being sucked out forcibly. Or the doctor might simply have taped his ribs too tight – he should check into the possibility that he had been one of the Homunculi in disguise, he thought wryly - then shook his head wearily as he recognized the gallows humour for the coping, delaying mechanism that it was. The Gatekeeper flinched at the negative gesture and Roy put out a hand to reassure him. "That would be Brigadier General Hughes now, and I accept your apology in the spirit it is given, although it really isn't necessary," Roy said quietly. "It was a brilliant strategy – and it worked. You've thrown the enemy into disarray, given the men new heart and my cause new strength, and for that I thank you…regardless of how it might affect me on a personal level." He swung his legs off the cot and stood, carefully folding the red coat over his arm, avoiding Auric's eyes, afraid of what he might see in them. Disgust? Wariness? Pity? The thought of it turned his stomach, but he refused to let it show on his face. He had become good at that over the years. "I should get ready for that staff meeting – I'm surprised Hawkeye hasn't turned up with a briefing packet yet. Here," and he offered the neatly folded coat to Auric.

The Gatekeeper made no move to take it, his golden eyes resting steadily on Roy's face as they searched it for…what? "Auric? You should keep that, at least until we're back in Central." Roy forced himself to speak normally as he held out the offending article of clothing.

A fine brow lifted, and Auric seemed to come to an abrupt decision. "Can't," he said succinctly. "Need help braiding my hair first." His eyes never wavered as he stepped forward into Roy's personal space, his eyes narrowed speculatively like those of a cat that had just spotted a particularly enticing rat. Roy couldn't name the odd emotion he saw in that aureate gaze. "Or have you changed your mind about the advantages of having Edward Elric be seen by your side, General?" His voice had dropped to a velvet whisper that sent shivers down Roy's spine. He had to admit it was an interesting experience being off-balance on the other side of the predator-prey equation.

"Oh? Do I look like your valet to you?" he asked lightly.

Auric raised his other eyebrow at that. "Do you really want to know what you look like to me, Roy?" and the simple sound of his name as it slipped lazily from the Gatekeeper's lips was more alluring than any number of blandishments that had been waved at him over the years. And then the sound of a bugle marking the hour broke the spell and Auric looked away. "I'd tell you, but duty calls. You have a meeting to go to, and I need to find Al and make sure he hasn't gotten himself into trouble."

What had Auric been playing at, wondered Roy as he waved the Gatekeeper into a seat on the bed and sat down next to him. For a moment there, it had almost seemed like Auric was offering…but that was ridiculous. "If you insist. Turn please – yes, that's fine. Bear in mind though that hairbrushes are hard to come by on battlefields, so I'll have to use my fingers." He started working at the larger knots, which fell apart with surprising ease. It felt just as he remembered – warm, fine and silken-soft, yet thick enough for it to have heft and weight. He remembered a fairy-tale his mother had told him about a princess who had been asked to spin flax into gold – assuming the princess had been a reasonably talented alchemist, he supposed it would have resulted in something like Ed's…Auric's hair. Roy frowned at a particularly difficult knot. "Since I'm stuck doing your hair, debrief me so I don't have to read the report. What exactly did you do to the Fuhrer?"

Auric shrugged, his eyes fluttering shut under the soothing touch of Roy's fingers carding gently through his hair. "Unlike the coffee – which I happen to consider a far greater achievement, by the way – there was no alchemy involved, I'm afraid, just your basic Gatekeeper skills. It seems that the Philosopher's Stones that give your Homunculi life and human form contain the same form of energy I use to manipulate Gates. I just bled it off from him…let most of it go back into the earth, tapped a little for a booster. I needed it, been running a little low of late, and another handy effect is that it obviates the need for sleep, at least for a little while."

Roy looked at him thoughtfully, hearing the odd note in his voice. Then his hands stilled for a moment as a puzzle piece fell into place. "That's how Gatekeepers die, isn't it?" It was a bleak statement, not a question. "That's what you've been hiding from Al – that you can only do it until you run out of energy, which everyone does eventually. And then you lose control, and it kills you. That's why you've been so tired, and that's why you were coughing up blood even when we first met you."

The Gatekeeper remained stubbornly silent until Mustang tugged at his hair insistently. "Ouch! Cut that out, you bastard! Fine, yes! But that won't be a problem again for a while. I drew enough off that Homunculus to tide me over. I'll be fine unless I have to open another large Gate, so as long as you don't require one, it's a non-issue. And this does not reach Al. Got that? I don't need him fussing over me like a mother hen. Besides," and Auric's face darkened, "from what he's told me, our mother died of some kind of wasting disease, something similar. It almost sounds as though someone was tapping into her life energies for some other purpose. He doesn't need to be reminded of that."

Roy noted the use of the term "our mother". This was an interesting development – Auric actually seemed to be gradually accepting his previous life as Ed with all its attendant ties. As to the actual topic under discussion, however…Roy pursed his lips, but conceded after a moment's reflection that the blonde was right. "Fine. But I want to know the instant you're feeling unwell, are we clear on that?" He tugged again, more gently this time.

"Dictator," muttered Auric.

"That is the whole point of what we're doing here," Roy pointed out wryly as he finished the braid and picked up the bit of elastic Auric had used to secure it. As he wrapped the elastic around his fingers however…"Damn it!"

Auric half-twisted around. "What?"

"Nothing," came the sharp reply. Rolling his eyes, Auric reached around and grabbed the end of his braid, then turned around to see Mustang gently rubbing his fingers.

"Hell, I forgot you had a bruised hand," cursed Auric. He snatched the elastic from the bed where Roy had dropped it and tied off the end of his braid, then reached for Mustang's hand, running his fingers gently over Roy's as he frowned at the swollen digits. "Huh. Yeah, you're not going to be snapping your fingers anytime soon, Flame Alchemist. Fortunately for you, you've engaged the services of a particularly foresighted Gatekeeper." Roy arched a sceptical brow at the younger man as he began to rummage around in the pockets of his coat. "Where is it…I can't have dropped it, can I? Unless…maybe the fight…if I did I'll kill that idiot Pride again for wasting my…aha! Hold out your hand."

Roy sighed and complied, giving him the less injured appendage. "Here you go. Don't lose it; I had to make Maes sacrifice three pictures frames for it," grinned Auric, not looking penitent in the least. He dropped a small rectangular object about two-thirds as wide as it was long into Roy's palm. Roy turned it over in his hand bemusedly. It was surprisingly heavy for its size and extraordinarily well made, with rounded corners and a silver mirror finish marred only by the miniature but meticulously defined arrays engraved into either face, and Roy inhaled sharply as he recognized the arrays normally found embroidered on his gloves. He flicked the object open.

"A lighter."

"A windproof, waterproof, alchemy-ready lighter, idiot," corrected Auric testily. "I'd prefer not to have to attend your funeral simply because you were careless enough to lose your gloves - you'll always have a way to start a fire and an array pressed into your palm this way. You know, you alchemists get so caught up in your little status symbols – gloves, watches, whatever - that you sometimes forget to be practical about things. For instance, mighty Flame Alchemist…you might want to contemplate the simple chemical composition of water in your spare time. Last I checked hydrogen and oxygen were both highly inflammable gases."

Roy opened his mouth to dispute the statement, then closed it again grumpily and smirked to cover his chagrin. "But I have you to watch my back, oh great Gatekeeper."

"I may not always be around when you need saving, bastard," growled Auric, snatching up his coat and turning to leave. Roy blinked at that. Auric's language had certainly become more…colourful as he grew more comfortable with accepting Ed as part of his whole. "Later, Mustang. Try not to burn down the tent." Roy watched him lift the tent flap, then suddenly pause. "Hey, bastard General?"

"Yes, Fullmetal shrimp?" he said clearly for the benefit of ears that might be listening. He got a reflexive growl for that, but the scowl melted swiftly into a wistful smile.

"Thank you for trusting enough to let us fall," the blonde man said softly, stressing the word so lightly that it was all but imperceptible to the casual eavesdropper, and even a particularly interested observer might have assumed that the word referred to the Elric brothers. But the look in Auric's eyes said otherwise. "We were never one for maybe's and what-if's. But when this is all done…he and I…we'll come back home to stay. If you think you'd still want to find that place between." And with that he was gone, ducking gracefully out the tent flap.

Roy stared unseeingly into his past as he contemplated his future in the footsteps that walked lightly away. He remained very still for a long moment. Then he pocketed the lighter, stood up and neatened his uniform, straightening his jacket and finger-combing his hair into a semblance of normalcy, donning the mask of an all-seeing, all-powerful, all-knowing leader. His present beckoned for now.

But when this was all done, he would bring him back home to stay.

He paused and made a mental note. And they were going to stay in bed for a week. At least.