YOU GUYS CRASHED MY EMAIL! IT'S LIKE I DID SOMETHING THAT PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIKE OR SOMETHING!

Not like that'll ever happen. Sorry you guys got all excited for something good from me and what do I give you? THIS PIECE OF CRAP!

Oh well. The damage is done. I'll sit here quietly for Hiromu Arakawa or the cast from Funimation! to get me with their pitchforks and their molten tar. You guys can go do whatever.

"You promised me two weeks off."

"And I said, not while you're on my base."

Edward could feel the blood rushing through his head, his heart rate roared in his ears as a nonstop thrum, the beats so fast and close together that they all blended into one. Sweat trickled down his spine and his shirt was pasted to his stomach. His jaws grated in his skull, the muscles turning from thick rubber to stone as rage brought adrenaline into his veins.

The colonel could belittle and penalize Ed to his heart's content, it was part of the arrangement; Ed would rebel, as he was naturally inclined to, and Mustang, being of the superior rank, would be obligated to remind Edward and his temper of their place in the matter. But Al… no one made threats against the Fullmetal Alchemist's baby brother without proper dues. And Edward would make Mustang pay in full.

"T' hell with what you say."

Roy jumped to his feet. Ed knew he had because, though he couldn't see the man with his face angled towards the ground, he heard the rumbling crash of the wheeled military desk chair falling backwards and into the wall.

"Fullmetal, you-"

Edward was ready for him. He would punch that bastard's nose into the back of his head with an uppercut from his right fist, then he would turn around and make his way back to the dorms as fast as his uncooperative legs were willing to carry him, grab Al and board the next train out of East City. He didn't care where they ended up as long he didn't see the colonel's stupid mug for at least a month. He'd been promised two weeks leave from word, and dammit, he was going to get those two weeks one way or another. He made to pull his right shoulder back, preparing the muscles in his back to add their weight to the punch.

Hawkeye saw the boy's shoulder blades pinch together, then Ed's spine suddenly bucked as his back muscles twisted.

"Colonel!"

"What?!"

THUMP.

XXX

Edward was not sure what had happened. His brain had sent the order to his arm to draw back, when his neck, back, and shoulders spontaneously decided to fuse together. His spine and legs began to curl in opposite directions, as if he was trying to touch his head with his toes from behind himself. Ed's knees hit the floor painfully and he felt himself flop onto the floor, like a turtle flipped upon its shell.

He tried to speak. His mouth wouldn't move. His face was retreating across his head, he could feel his eyes stretching open and his lips yanking up in a manic grin. He tried to straighten his legs. They wouldn't listen.

And then, as if to spite their master, all the muscles in his body increased their efforts. It was invisible hands had taken hold of his body in various places and were squeezing, working together to force Edward's body to fold itself in half from the wrong side.

Pain, sharp and particular, sprouted within his muscles. The sore ache of lactic acid blossomed in his back and legs, and the inside of his chest started to feel as if a block of ice had materialized on top of his heart.

Edward realized he couldn't breathe.

XXX

Roy looked at Edward, looked at Riza, who looked back at him, and they both looked back to Edward. Fullmetal was writhing like an upside-down beetle, his back jumping off the ground and his legs pushing between the floor and his body. His eyes had rolled into the back of his head and his teeth were clenching together so hard the colonel was surprised they hadn't crushed themselves.

"Roy? What-"

Hughes was standing in the threshold. His question vanished as his bespectacled eyes fell to the foot of Mustang's desk. He had been carrying a stack of papers under his arm. He dropped them, creating a white pond of pages in the doorway and threw himself to the floor.

Hughes landed beside Edward's shaking body with a jarring thud that would have made Roy wince under any other circumstance. The lieutenant colonel snatched Ed up into his arms and pinned him against his chest, turning himself into a human straight jacket. Ed flapped about, his head bouncing off of Hughes's shoulder. He looked like a prize bass struggling to escape a fisherman.

"Roy! Snap out of it! Roy!"

Mustang blinked slowly before meeting Hughes's gaze with his own. He stared back stupidly. Maes Hughes's face was blank of every motion. His eyes were hard and unwavering, and for some reason Roy found that unnerving, and that prickle of discomfort tore his daze apart. He blinked once more, shook his head to clear it of any lingering fog, and began studying the physical build of his subordinates.

"Fuery."

The sergeant major jumped at the sound of his name and focused his wide, frightened eyes on the colonel.

"S-sir?"

"You're strong and lithe."

"Y-yes, sir?"

"Run as fast as you can and get the medics. I don't care what they're doing or who they're treating, pick up the entire unit and drag them here if you have to. That's an order!"

Fuery's expression softened from nervous to understanding, then hardened to determination.

"Yes, sir!"

The sergeant major went from motionless to sprinting instantly. Rather than turn into the hallway, he ricocheted his body off the doorway and disappeared behind the wall, his slapping footsteps fading into the sound of Edward's helpless flopping.

"Hawkeye!"

"Yes, sir?"

Mustang gestured towards the scene on the floor.

"I want you to… be a woman."

"Understood, sir."

Riza took a step forward before dropping to her knees beside Hughes. Maes's shirt was wet with spit and sweat, but if he knew this, he gave no sign of it. He was transfixed on the boy in his lap and Mustang noticed that, most likely because of Hughes's instincts as a father, he had begun rocking Edward in his arms, as if he meant to offer the boy solace through the motion. Hawkeye guided the strands of hair plastered to Edward's face behind his ears. She frowned.

"Maes, his lips are blue."

Hughes only shook his head, not taking attention from Ed for a moment.

"There's nothing we can do about that except pray for the medics to get here soon."

XXX

After what felt like an eternity that was actually only five minutes, Edward's body was completely drained of energy. His spasmodic twitching slowed to trembling, and finally his muscles slumped into stillness, and Edward sank into Hughes's chest. It was as if he was a puppet and his director had lowered his strings to the stage and left him there. No one moved for at least thirty seconds, except for Maes, who continued to cradle the boy.

"He's breathing normally again."

Roy nearly fainted from relief. Riza's shoulders sagged as she let free the breath she had been holding.

The sound of multiple shoes hitting the floor of the Command Center made them look towards the threshold. A red-faced, panting Fuery appeared, followed by the medical unit. One of the nurses carried a collapsible stretcher under his arm.

"Sorry it took so long, sir," Fuery puffed. He nodded gratefully to Breda, who handed him a paper cup full of water, and emptied it in a single swallow. "They're all so heavy; I had to drag them down the stairs one at a time."

XXX

Someone was maneuvering his arms out the sleeves of his coat. The air was cool on his dripping skin. His shirt was pulled up over his head and a wet cloth drawn over his chest and face. Edward's limbs felt as if they were made of stone-besides, of course, the ones that were-and his head rang with a sharp pain. Instinctively, he opened his eyes, and immediately shut them once more as light from the ceiling stabbed the back of his skull.

"Ed? Can you hear me?"

As brief as his glance had been, someone had noticed the movement of his eyes.

"Edward? It's Maes, can you hear me?"

"Maes."

It was a mumbled whisper. His lungs seemed reluctant to donate air for speech and his mouth stuck closed. His feeble response was met with multiple exhalations of relief.

"Good. Good, that's good." Apparently Maes thought it was good.

"Al?"

"We're getting him. Roy's on the phone with him right now. Would you like some water?"

"No."

Hughes ignored his protest and cold tap water was poured between his lips. Edward choked, and though he managed to swallow a few drops, the rest dribbled from his mouth and down his chin. For a terrifying moment, Ed's throat was stuck closed. He took a gurgling gasp and oxygen sucked into his wind pipe.

The cloth was reapplied to his face and he felt soft fingers brush his cheek.

"Hawk… Eye?"

"I'm here, Ed. Fuery got the doctors. They're calling an ambulance."

Edward's brain was sluggish and weak at the moment, but he recognized the implication of Riza's words quickly.

"No."

"No what, Ed."

"No hos-pit…" He couldn't get his tongue to form the rest of the word, but Hawkeye understood.

"Edward-"

"No."

"You need-"

"No!"

"Ed, please-"

"No!" The boy made to sit up. A firm hand-Maes-fell on his right shoulder and easily held him down.

"Don't try to move. Just relax, okay. We'll handle it."

But Edward did not want them to handle it. He tried a second time to pull himself up. He succeeded only in pressing his sore automail port into Hughes's hand. Stars burst behind Ed's eyelids and he reflexively tensed at the pain. The muscles in his shoulder and abdomen tightened into a grip that refused to let go. They screamed their abuse to his brain, but Edward couldn't do anything for it. His shoulder was engulfed in a numb, burning raze and Ed couldn't stop himself from whining.

"Edward, what is it?"

The question was unnecessary. Ed's left hand snaked, unbidden, to his shoulder and covered it in a crab-like shelter, his fingers spread and digging into the flesh, but the palm curved and untouched. Almost immediately, he felt a second hand take hold of his wrist and try to pull his arm back to his side.

"Don't touch."

"Ed, if there's something wrong-"

"Don't touch it."

Hawkeye knew she could easily lift his hand away from his shoulder, his arm was spent, exhausted beyond usefulness. But his protests were lined with something-desperation, a devout insistence-that kept her from bringing herself to do it.

One of the medics, who was standing between Hawkeye and Hughes, posted there to monitor Fullmetal's condition, joined them on the office floor.

"What's going on?"

Edward's blood turned cold. He didn't recognize the voice.

"There's something wrong with his right shoulder, but he won't let us look at it."

That was Hughes.

"Here, let me."

Hawkeye's hand disappeared from his wrist.

"No."

"It's okay, Ed-"

An unfamiliar, unsympathetic grip wrapped around Ed's wrist and yanked his hand away from his shoulder. Fingers brushed the lip of his port, sending flaring, sparking pain throughout his shoulder and neck.

"NO-"

"Brother?!"

Edward's head snapped backward and his arms and legs bent into his torso. The bruised, worn muscles contracted again, and Ed's entire being was made of angry tissue that was determined to kill itself, and yet lamented maniacally its reluctance to die.

"Oh my God, Brother! What did you do to him?!"

There was a terrible crashing, but it was undiscernible compared to the shrieking that filled Edward's body and bubbled through his clenched teeth.

"Alphonse-"

"No! I'm not listening to you! What happened? What did you to my brother?!"

Alphonse.

His brother, Al.

"Aaagh."

"Brother?! It's me, Brother, I won't let them near you."

Edward felt himself transferred from a soft, bony pallet and onto a cold, hard hammock.

"Aagg… Agggll…"

His jaws were melting, along with his limbs and torso. Ed felt like he was made of one Mrs. Hughes's pie fillings; hot and mashed, and the tiny, mutilated bits that were him were being held together only by the sticky sauce they were swimming in. If Al let go of him, he was sure he would splatter onto the floor into a thin, unrecoverable slop.

"The paramedics are here!" Falman called from his place outside to office, Roy had positioned him there for the very purpose of announcing their arrival.

"Al…"

"Brother?"

Ed fought with his slackened mouth to pronounce words that were understandable.

"No… hos… pit…"

"I know, I know you don't want the hospital…"

"Alphonse, you have to give him to the doctors now."

Roy's voice, gentle but not negotiating.

"Al… please… don't want…"

"They have to take him now, you have to let go of him."

"No... Please, no…"

The suit's iron arms held the tiny body closer and closer to its breastplate, Edward was nearly flattened against the tempered metal. Ed slowly trailed his fingers above his head until he found his brother's broad, rounded elbow and meekly clung to the joint. He'd used his automail arm to do this, his flesh one was hidden somewhere in the cocoon of Al's hold, and his shoulder ached with an intensity that summoned a moan that he barely managed to stifle. All that escaped was an almost non-existent squeak.

"Your brother wasn't breathing a few minutes ago, Alphonse," Riza's voice was as light as a wind chime in a gentle breeze, but it was a knife slashing Edward's hope to ribbons. He knew he'd lost, and his brother's empty body started at her words.

"He wasn't breathing, and there was nothing we could do."

"What about… that breathing in the mouth thing? Couldn't you have done that?"

"His lungs were being crushed by his diaphragm. Resuscitation wouldn't have done any good. But the hospital has ventilators that will keep him breathing and medicine that can lessen his pain."

"But he won't get any of those things if you don't let go of him, Alphonse," Roy, sounding confident now, added to Hawkeye's reasoning.

"Al… please…"

The iron suit was silent.

"What if… what if they hurt him?"

"They won't hurt him, Alphonse."

"The medics were hurting him!"

"It was an accident. No one means your brother harm."

Silence again.

Ed could hear people talking in lowered voices and the telltale screeches and tapping sounds that come from preparing equipment of one kind or another.

"Can I… can I go with him?"

That's not up to us."

Al's embrace loosened slightly, and the difference served to fuel Edward's mounting panic.

"No…. no, Al…"

"We have to put him under," said a voice Ed didn't know, but sounded feminine.

"Under what?" Despite the slackening, Alphonse's grip on his brother was still strong.

"He'll only be asleep. The drug will keep him from seizing in the ambulance."

Edward shifted in Al's arms.

"No! Al!" The protest was on the border of being a sob.

Ed's neck was forcefully but tenderly moved so that his face was no longer shadowed by Al's breastplate.

"It's okay, Brother. You'll just be taking a nap, that's all."

"Don't want…. A nap…"

Edward felt rough plastic lines pushed onto his face. The sweet smell of some sort of sedative tickled his nose, and, before his consciousness was properly robbed from him, Ed launched himself out of Al's arms.

He did not get far. Edward's back muscles pulled impossibly, agonizingly tight and he howled. With a sickening clunk, he fell back into his brother's hold and jerked about wildly as his body fell into another flailing fit. The back of his head was grabbed and the plastic mouth piece was shoved over his nose and chin. Al was squeezing his hand in a leather gauntlet, offering him promises of safety and reassurance. Ed could not hear him over the screaming of the blood in his head, and could not see him through the blinding pain of his complete self.

At some point, though he wasn't sure exactly when, all things ceased to be.