Disclaimer: Don't own FMA, nor "I Was A Prayer," which is written and performed by Alkaline Trio.

Author's note: Ahem. I was depressed. That's my reason for the intermission. Don't like it? Deal with it. At least this was finished and updated. Y'all better enjoy it.


Chapter 27: I Was A Prayer

"Edward," he heard Winry whisper to him. After a few moments, he registered it was her hand brushing his hair out of his face slowly. He actually liked the feeling.

He began to smile slightly, but stopped when he felt it pulling on his mouth where his lip was split. "Hey," he mumbled, coughing a little. "Told you I'd be fine."

She nodded with an incredulous expression on her face. "Yeah, after you passed out and gave me a heart attack," she groused. A small but playful scowl touched her features. "That was mean."

"Sorry," Ed began, "but it was kind of hard for me to control my consciousness when I bled all over myself." He shrugged a little.

Winry's expression softened a little a moment later. "I know." She sighed and leaned her forehead against his. "I'm just glad you're all right now," she whispered.

Edward couldn't help the little bit of a smile that his lips allowed. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. He was glad he was all right, too. It wouldn't have been fun if something worse had happened. A sigh escaped him.

He was about to complain again when he heard Winry's soft voice still close to him. "Just go to sleep, Edward," she murmured to him. He felt her push his hair away from his forehead again before she pressed a kiss on his skin. "You'll feel better when you wake up."


The next morning, Edward woke in absolute pain. He cringed the moment his body registered the aching in his stomach, arm, and chest. His jaw was a little sore, too, but is wasn't as extreme as the others. Annoyed muttering escaped him as he opened his eyes. Feel better, yeah, right, he thought. At the bottom of his field of vision, he saw a blond head on the edge of his hospital bed. Ed laughed quietly. She was still there.

He couldn't say why it amazed him; it just did. Maybe because hardly anyone had ever stuck by him when he'd needed it? Besides Al and Mustang, at least. Each time Edward was hospitalized or just generally having a bad time with life, if he happened to have a girlfriend, she would split in nothing flat. It just seemed strange to Edward to have a female stay by him for so long.

Sure, he was her bodyguard, so they really couldn't be separated. She could have requested a switch, though, if she wanted a different person, someone who wasn't as danger prone as Edward; simple as that. But she hadn't. Ed didn't know if he should be grateful for that, or scared.

He sighed a little and looked around. Thinking about his relationships made him depressed, since the only successful ones, for a time, had ended without grace, and very harshly on Edward. He wanted to think of something different, something constructive. So he turned his head in both directions, feeling a little sore in his neck, until he saw a notepad on the night table beside him. Edward ignored his pain, since he had been through much worse, and reached for the paper. He figured that it was for terminally ill patients, or just the hypocondriact patients who figured they were dying when they had a cold, so they could write out a will. A pen was hooked to the top of it. But why it was in recovery, he couldn't say.

Edward sighed quietly and tried to sit up. He found the buttons on the edge of the plastic guard that moved the bed up and down, and managed to raise himself to a sitting position. It caused more pain to erupt in his stomach, but again, he made himself ignore it. Painkillers didn't do anything for him anymore. They sometimes made it worse.

Carefully, Edward began to write what he knew so far about Winry's case. He needed to get this finished up soon. He needed to stop procrastinating and get it over with. So he wrote the words "Confirmed Suspects" on one side of the page, and then listed Primus/Envy and Quintus. Those were the only two confirmed people he could really tell at the moment. In another collumn, he wrote "Possible Suspects," and scribbled Secudus' name, remembering the night a few weeks ago at the man's restaurant. Edward still had to contact him about that, though if Secundus really was part of it, it could bode badly for Ed. He quickly wrote "be careful" beside the name. He also wrote Quartarius' name, since he was usually with Quintus. That didn't automatically make Quartarius a suspect, but he couldn't call him out just because of no evidence against him. If anything, he would be guilty by association.

Connections...how were they connected? What was some evidence Edward had found? Under "connections," he wrote "tattoo" and sketched what he remembered Secundus' and Quintus' tattoos to look like, and the same emblem that had been on that spider. Ed didn't remember seeing it on Primus, but it could have been in an...obscure place.

Beneath "evidence," Edward wrote "spider," and "recorded calls." There was that one call before Primus and Quintus he had screened on his own, and there were a few others more recently recorded on the tapped lines.

Edward tapped the pen on the paper, thinking. What else was there? Many strange occurrences had happened since Edward had met Winry, some that he would have read in a science fiction novel. One of those things was seeing Primus shapeshift. That had just not been human. Another thing had been whatever Winry had seen in the motel. He made a note about that, but wasn't sure if it was related.

Another sigh escaped that irritated his ribs, which he figured were possibly cracked. What was a motive? For something to be this complicated that Edward had barely figured anything out, it couldn't be so trivial as money. Why would someone want Winry dead? She was too nice of a woman to purposely make enemies, so grudges were out of the question, unless they were accidental. He still wrote it down, though, because it would be stupid to rule anything out unless he was one-hundred percent sure, and he never was. He wrote down money, too, in that case, but put small X's beside them.

There was nothing that came to mind why someone would want to kill Winry. That led him to think that she might not be the actual target. But then who? Or what?

Edward mumbled to himself and shifted. His butt was going numb against the sheets since he had been sitting and lying down for so long. He let his mind go back to the previous night, replaying the events. It had definitely been Primus/Envy, whichever the shapeshifter preferred to be called. Something about the fight, and the few things Envy had said just hadn't seemed right. What was it he'd said?

Edward had asked what they wanted with Winry...Envy had replied that, in specific, he didn't want her, but something more. A smirk carefully splayed on Ed's mouth, but he was wary of the split in his lip. He wrote a note about different ulterior motive beside Primus/Envy. Then he wrote "more suspects to come" beneath Quartarius' name. There were definitely going to be more people added to the list, Ed was sure of that.

He continued to smirk, though, because Envy had given Edward a good piece of information. He wrote down what he remembered his opponent saying. That could mean that Envy wasn't tied down, one-hundred percent to whomever he was working with, but it also meant that there was a small possibility that they weren't after Winry. He had said that the others "might" be after Winry, not "were" after her. That meant that the possibility of said "others" were after her, but it wasn't definite.

But it was a small hunch, just a guess and a hope. That left Edward wondering why they were targeting Winry, if she was not what they wanted. Why had those notes started coming in to her?

Upon remembering the notes, Edward wrote them down under evidence.

What did all of this mean?

Edward yawned and pushed the "Call" button for the nurse. He was in a mood for causing trouble; being stuck in a hospital always made him feel that way. He scribbled a few additional notes on his paper until a woman came in a few minutes later, looking if a little startled to be receiving a call this early. She was very young and probably new. Perfect. Ed needed a good distraction, and a fresh nurse would be great for it.

"Do you need anything?" she asked, pushing fine black hair behind her ear. She looked especially nervous. Maybe other nurses had warned her about him?

But Ed smirked inwardly. "Yeah, where's my doctor? I want to talk to him about getting these tubes out of my arm," he said, gesturing with his metal arm to the IV lines in the inside of his elbow. "They're annoying and keeping me from doing my work."

There was a small pause as the woman seemed to jog her memory. "Um, who is your doctor?" she asked in a quiet, timid voice.

Edward almost snorted. She must have just started working. She had no clue who his doctor was. Well, that was one thing in common; neither did Edward. "I don't know," he said slowly, "since I haven't seen him yet." He glared at the nurse a little then sighed.

The nurse seemed to be very flustered as she pulled pieces of paper out of her chart, probably checking for his doctor. "I'm sorry, Mr. Elric--" Edward snorted...'Mr. Elric' "--I can't seem to find your chart."

He made the quiet observation she was holding a chart that had someone else's name on it. He gave a long suffering sigh. "Maybe because that isn't my chart?" he pointed out at last.

Before anyone else could speak, a new voice entered the conversation. "Harassing nurses so early in the morning, Edward?" Clara entered the room, holding a chart or two close to her. At least one had to be his, but he was also curious as to whom the other would belong. It wasn't like Clara to carry more than one chart with her, due to the patient confidentiality. "Quite a conquest."

Edward looked over at Clara and he could immediately tell the younger nurse was relieved to have the line of fire change. He rolled his eyes inwardly. Such weak constitutions they had. "What did my doctor say?" he asked heatedly. From the bottom of his field of vision, he saw Winry stirring from slumber. Maybe he'd been too loud if she was waking.

His attention was directed back to Clara when she began speaking. "I spoke with him this morning," she said as she moved to check his vitals. "Are you sore anywhere?" she asked.

This time, he outwardly rolled his eyes. "Of course," he retorted, snorting incredulously. "I was in a fight. Why wouldn't I be sore?"

Clara smirked at him. "Take note, Marian, that patients like Mr. Elric here, are usually all talk, so just ignore their backtalk and barbs." She winked at the other nurse before looking back to Edward. "Where do you hurt the most?"

With a sigh, Edward held up his metal hand, as it hurt to move his flesh arm. "Everywhere." Winry finally woke and looked up at him, apparently a little surprised to see so many people in the room already. She sat up quickly and yawned. "To make a list of where I wasn't hurting would probably be..." he paused for a moment, looking for a word other than 'shorter' or 'smaller.' "...less," he finished. He saw Winry frown at him, though, for his remark being so obstinate.

Clara still seemed undaunted, though. "We're going to take you to have some X-rays done. Can you comply long enough with the technicians not to scare them?" she asked in a bored manner.

Ed shrugged. "Are they going to poke me--ow!" He glared at Clara when she did just that, pressing two fingers against his side.

"Definitely in need of X-rays," she said to herself. Then she added to him, "Unless I tell them otherwise, all they'll do is take pictures of your bones." Her gaze switched up to Marian. "Could you find some techs and someone to wheel Mr. Elric down to the X-ray room?" Clara had hardly finished before the younger nurse retreated, obviously relieved to be able to leave.

Ed frowned fiercely. "I don't need any--ow! Stop poking me!" He swore quietly and pushed the nurse's hand away.

With a sigh, he looked around the room when Clara left. His eyes fell onto Winry. She was frowning, as well, in an annoyed manner. "Ed, why do you have to be so stubborn?" she asked, voice still a little heavy with sleep. She lifted a slender hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. That was something she had been doing lately.

"I don't need any X-rays. If they absolutely insist I have one, I can walk to the room on my own." He looked defiantly at Winry, folding his arms over his chest gingerly. His ribs were throbbing, but he wasn't about to admit that to anyone else.

"Edward, it's Christmas Eve. Why can't you try not to act like a Scrooge? Unless you take pride in letting people think you're a jerk who doesn't care about anyone, or yourself, even." She glared at him a little, standing.

But Ed remained undaunted by her harsh words. "It works for me, okay? Look, I don't like playing this card a lot, but I've been through a lot, and you know it. It all happened around this time of the year. I don't need to hear the 'be nice; it's Christmas'; speech from yo--"

"Yes, Edward, you do," Winry interrupted. "You do. You also need to realize the world doesn't revolve around all things Edward Elric! Why you believe that, I don't know. I mean, you've been through so much, you have to have noticed that at least a little, by now, that things don't always go according to your plan."

Edward was silent for a moment, trembling in anger, before he spoke finally. "Don't mock me," he said in a frighteningly calm tone of voice. "Especially about this." His eyes were cold as he pointed a dark expression towards her. But he forced that fury down and away for the moment. "What is with you this morning, anyway?" he asked, venting a little annoyance. Since she'd woken up, he had felt nothing but bad vibes from her. Something was eating her. And from the look on her face, he was about to find out.

"Waking up to hearing you complaining and being a jerk to people who are trying to help you might have something to do with the situation, Edward. Why don't you try agreeing with people for once; you receive much nicer responses. It's pretty ironic, actually!" And with those last words, Winry turned and ran out of the room.

With a dark frown on his face, Edward saw her bump into someone on her way out. When Ed saw that "someone," he swore. "You too? Someone must not love me," he grumbled.

Roy Mustang chuckled a little. "It would look bad if I didn't show up to wish you a speedy recovery," he said. He held out a bouquet of flowers.

Ed eyed them for a moment suspiciously. "Aw, thanks, Mustang; you shouldn't have," he said sarcastically, still annoyed about what Winry had told him.

"I didn't." Roy rolled his eyes. "Hawkeye sent them; where do you want them to go?" he asked, looking around.

Still grumbling, Edward settled back against the hospital bed again, but winced from the pain that brought about. "Some nurse will come in soon to take me away; give 'em to her." He sighed carefully. He sincerely hoped he didn't have broken ribs. Alphonse was pretty much healed from the gunshot to his collar bone, but not completely. It wouldn't be fun having the two of them incapacitated from the pain. Hopefully Edward was just sore.

"They've finally had sense knocked into them and they're putting you in a mental health institute?" Roy looked impressed. "It took them long enough to figure out that's where you belong," the older man chuckled. Edward, being in a foul mood, swore at Mustang, folding his arms over his chest again gingerly. Roy's brow disappeared under his messy black hair. "I'll pretend to ignore that, since we're off duty," he said, placing the flowers on the table at the end of the bed.

After grumbling a little, Edward shut his eyes. Even though morphine did nothing for the pain, it still made him feel high. "I'm hoping you didn't come just to piss me off, and there was an actual reason?" he asked, opening his eyes again to look at his boss. He seemed a little preoccupied, but came back to reality after a moment.

It was then that Edward saw how tired the older man looked. There were dark circles under his eyes, and said charcoal eyes looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept well at all the previous night. There was a small silence between the men, in which Edward could sense the stress and tension radiating from Roy. What had happened to him after the party?

Before Ed could ask, though, Roy sat down in one of the chairs across the room and began to speak. "Well, mainly, I came to wish you well...since we're off duty. Also, I want to know how you're doing on Miss Rockbell's case," he said, not sounding as professional as he could have. Ed watched the dark haired man lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees and pinching the bridge of his nose with two hands, as Winry had done earlier, but with one hand.

With a sigh, Edward told himself he'd ask before Mustang left what was bothering the man. But for the moment, he tossed the notepad to the foot of the bed for Mustang to grab. He'd let the man read his notes, rather than try to explain it all. So there was a small silence now, in which Edward took advantage to think.

He had ticked Winry off pretty badly earlier. It was probably the first time he'd seen her storm out of the room like that. He couldn't blame her, really, for wanting to leave; as Ed replayed his words, and how stubborn and hard he'd been, he felt like wanting to leave his own body, too. Maybe if they upped his morphine a little, it would work...

With a careful sigh, Edward placed his hands in his lap. What was he going to do to make it up to her? A simple apology wasn't going to do it. Winry was far too angry for that to cover his terrible attitude. Even a sincere, heartfelt apology wouldn't work. That left what? Edward figured he could try to improve his outlook on life for a while, see how it worked for him, and try not to be such a martyr. Maybe she would see he was trying, and maybe, just maybe, it would make her smile at him again.

Edward leaned his head back on the hospital pillow. He was so lost, so in love. He was willing to go such a distance, such heights to please a woman. This was slightly crazy. He supposed it had been inevitable from day one, the moment he had laid eye upon her in her sitting room, that he fall in love with her. He didn't want to, though; it wasn't good for him to fall in love with the woman he was supposed to be protecting! It made things difficult when cash was handed over and they parted ways. No, it was bad ethics. Edward sighed. But he couldn't help it. All he could do at the moment was try to accept it and control it.

"Interesting notes," he heard Mustang say from across the room. Edward looked up to see Roy walking the notebook over to him once more. "What do you think?"

With a shrug, the blond Elric took the notepad, set it in his lap, and looked at his scratchy handwriting. "I honestly don't have a clue. I've been on this case for how long? A month, two months? I'm just as clueless on who could be doing this as I was when I started. But these people, Primus and Quintus, probably have a boss they report to every so often. Maybe," he paused in thought, "we could find them and track them." Mustang raised his brows once more as nurses entered the room with a wheelchair. Al stood in the doorway, and Ed could see Winry at the nurse's station. She wouldn't look at him. When Roy began to speak, Ed looked at him.

"Do you really think that will work? From what I read and have heard from you in the past few weeks, these people seem incredibly nimble and able to avoid people when they want." He sounded doubtful.

Suddenly, before Ed could reply, he was attacked by voices.

"Okay, Mr. Elric, time for your X-rays. Come on, and we'll wheel you down to the room."

"Hey, Brother; how are you feeling?"

"I don't know if a tracker could keep up with them."

Those sentences and more all ran together suddenly. The room began to spin a little. Edward lifted his hand to his head and looked at his morphine drip. It looked to be on the same flow as before, so it wasn't that, unless it was side affects. He looked around the room, trying to make it stop tilting and spinning. It happened, however, when his eyes fell on a certain nurse at the end of the room. Time seemed to slow down a little as gold and deep purple eyes met. But as soon as he'd seen that person, the nurse seemed to disappear in the mild chaos of the hospital recovery room. And as soon as that person was lost, Edward came back to the room, as well. It was no longer spinning, and not quite as loud as it had been.

That had been strange. But he took a deep breath as he began shifting a little for that dumb ride to the X-ray room. He looked at his brother, at Mustang, then back at his brother. Al had an expectant look on his face. Edward blinked, not knowing what his brother had said, if anything.

"What?" Edward hoped Al would understand he hadn't heard a word.

With a small chuckle, the younger Elric touched his brother's shoulder carefully. "You can't stay out of trouble, can you?" he asked. "How are you feeling?"

Edward shut his eyes as he sat down in the wheelchair. As he had moved, he'd felt the bruises on his chest stressing painfully. That made him wince. "Not well," he replied, settling down into the seat. "They want X-rays." All Edward could think about right now was the expense. He'd barely been able to pay Al's hospital bill, and it was still six days until Edward was paid again. Since he hadn't been on duty, the station couldn't pay insurance, even though he'd been on a case. Dollar signs floated in his vision and he tried to shake them from his head. Hopefully things wouldn't be too bad, but already was there morphine, and now X-rays. Neither of those were cheap. There was probably going to be a fee for sleeping in the bed, using the "Call Nurse" button, and medication coming up, as well. He closed his eyes, sighed and dropped his head back with a curse.

Before Al could reply, Ed was wheeled out of the room. No one followed. Very slowly, Ed's eyes opened again as they went past the nurse's station. He saw Winry turn to look at him a little. He gave her an apologetic look, and mouthed the words, "I'm sorry," to her before he disappeared down the hallway.

He really did still feel bad. But hopefully, things would clear up soon...hopefully.


When Edward was being wheeled back into his room, he wore the darkest frown he had ever worn before. Anyone who looked at him and saw his expression immediately averted their gaze and made way for him to pass through the hallway. He could practically feel the sympathy for the triage nurse manning the wheelchair. With a greater sigh than he had been emitting earlier, Edward shut his eyes. Those dumb X-ray technicians. They had moved him all around and poked and prodded his ribs, marked him, and made him freeze on that X-ray table, only to take about two or three pictures of his ribs. His bones were still throbbing from the fingers jabbed at them. That made his frown darken a little more as he felt the wheelchair come to a halt.

Slowly, his eyes opened to find he was in his recovery room once again. He mumbled. His promise to himself that he would try to brighten his attitude was forgotten at the moment. Edward was more than annoyed at those technicians. He didn't like being touched; he had a personal bubble. It had been invaded way too many times that day. One more time, and he was going to snap.

"All right, Mr. Elric; let me help you up," the triage nurse offered.

Edward shot her a glare before trying to stand on his own. "I can do it," he muttered darkly. Immediately, the nurse stood back. She knew not to force him into anything; she knew his file. There were probably notes in there about how testy he was, and how pissy most of the time when he was in the hospital. So he sighed, still trying to push himself up. He was weak from the pain, and not eating anything since he'd woken up, probably three hours ago. Vaguely, Edward remembered having vomited a few times during the night, waking up just enough turn his head into the puke bucket, wipe his mouth, then pass out again. So there was absolutely nothing in his stomach, besides a few gastric acids.

"Mr. Elric, I think...maybe..." the nurse bravely ventured to argue with him.

He shook his head, just barely managing to make it to his feet. "I have it," he growled, just as he began to stumble.

His arms began to flail a little, trying to find something to grab hold to, but he felt a shoulder in his side, holding him up. Edward looked over to see his brother beside him, a slight smile on his face. "Careful, Brother," he said softly, holding Edward up until he had his balance.

Edward frowned still, even as Winry entered the room. She still looked annoyed. That made Edward take a deep breath, trying to calm himself a little. He leaned a little more weight on Al and off of his feet. As soon as he took a second breath, Ed began to feel a little better, a little lighter. He nodded his head a little, then opened his mouth to speak.

But then he quickly lifted his hand to his mouth and began coughing. He felt like he was choking on something. Edward leaned forward a little, holding himself up with one hand on the bed. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room resting on him as he continued to cough and hack. A moment later, he felt something warm coating his hands. Then he heard Winry gasp and speak his name, worried. He shook his head, still coughing a little.

"A rag?" he said quietly, not pulling his hand away from his face yet. After a few moments, he felt someone wiping at his face. Edward turned to look up at Winry. Her blue eyes were intense, set on his face as she wiped away the blood that had splattered around his mouth. He couldn't help but look into her eyes. She looked hurt still. That was worse than any of the pain he had right now; it was like a stab through his heart.

"Winry," he mumbled softly. She ignored him and grabbed his hand, wiping the blood from his palm. His eyes suddenly turned down, watching her as she carefully worked to removed the blood from his hand. It was fascinating and, somehow, it seemed like such an intimate gesture. She could have ignored him, let him do it himself, but she had wordlessly begun to help him, even though he didn't deserve it. Why? She was still mad at him, wasn't she?

A soft chuckle from the doorway broke into Edward's thoughts. He turned to see Clara, grinning. "You really should be more careful," she advised. "You have to stay longer now, since you caused yourself to bleed again." She didn't sound annoyed at all that he had to remain in the hospital.

But Ed frowned as she walked into the room more. "Great, just what I wanted," he mumbled sarcastically. What a Christmas present. spending Christmas Eve in the hospital, and being drugged up the next day; wonderful. Edward sighed and turned, sitting down on the bed. He lowered his head a little and slouched over, trying to relieve the pain in his chest. But in the process of his action, his eyes caught sight of something.

Clara still had two files in her hands. One was his; he knew that much. He could see his name, plain as day. But...on top of it...what was written for the name? Edward lifted his head and tried to see. He only had to see a few letters before it registered. He almost fell forward in shock, but he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder, keeping him upright.

"What is it, Brother?" Alphonse asked softly.

Edward recovered and glared. "Let me see that file," he said, voice suddenly so calm, it was frightening, in contrast to the look on his face.

Clara seemed puzzled. "Other patient files are classified, Edward," she said after a moment. "I can't let you see it."

His glare deepened. "I don't have my badge on me right now, but I'm a police officer. And you know that." Ed's voice began to emote his sudden fury. "Let me see the file."

"Edward," Alphonse's soft voice came from beside him, "what's wrong?"

Before he responded, Edward hopped off the bed and snatched away the top file from Clara. He looked at the name carefully. It left a bad taste in his mouth, just reading it. "How can that man be here?" he spat. "He's supposed to be dead."

Edward opened the file, turning and limping away from Clara as she reached for it. The pain in his chest was increasing, and things were becoming a little dim. But there, before his eyes, was a photo of the man that had supposedly died over fifteen years ago, his father, Hohenheim Elric.

"Edward! Sit down, please!" he heard Winry shouting at him suddenly.

Ed looked up. His vision was swimming again. "I..." He didn't even finish his sentence before everything went black. The last thing he remembered was Winry's concerned cry. But still, in his mind's eye and unconsciousness, Edward could see that picture, the picture of the man he hated so much.

What was he doing here?