YOU GUYS CRASHED MY EMAIL AGAIN!

"Does he have any allergies we need to know about?"

"No."

"Is he on any medication?"

"No."

"Has he ever been in a condition similar to this one?"

Roy heard the clink of metal on metal and felt Al's empty eyes sockets examining his hunched shoulders.

"No. Not… not really."

Colonel Mustang was Edward's state assigned guardian. For all his self-assertion, Ed was still a minor by law, and according to such laws, every underage citizen of Amestris was required to have the enlisted support of a capable and willing adult. Naturally, this adult was almost always a parent. In the absence of such, the second most common candidate was a close relative, and in rare cases, a friend of the family's.

The Elric brothers, however, had no one of the kind. Their mother had been dead for a fair three years now, and their father had left the household when they were barely more than infants. Since neither of their parents had had any siblings, this meant they had no aunts or uncles to take them in. Pinako Rockbell, a nearby automail engineer, who had watched their mother grow from girl to woman, give birth to two sons, then die of sickness when her children needed her most; had been more than willing to offer the boys shelter.

Then the brothers suffered their "accident", Edward decided to become a State Alchemist, and the Elrics left their home and guardian behind. Despite the ever present qualms surrounding certifying a child as a State official, no one could deny the boy was incredibly talented, and the military, ever desperate for strong recruits, had slobbered from their hunger Ed's instatement. But while there were laws prohibiting children from enlisting through the Academy, there were no such laws regarding the State Alchemy Program. And so throough that convenient loophole, Edward Elric was made the youngest State Alchemist in Amestrian history. For the sake of convenience and tradition, Ed had been assigned to the officer who had persuaded him to apply in the first place: Colonel Roy Mustang himself.

Whenever Roy took on a new recruit, whether through the Academy like himself or through the State Alchemist Program like Fullmetal, Mustang made a silent promise to himself and to his officers, as he had the day he had first convicted himself to his dream in the blooded sands of Ishval: he would not anyone on his team or their loved ones die. If a life had to be taken, it would his own, because that was the burden he had accepted when he'd accepted the stars.

Roy had made that promise to Edward and Alphonse that he would do all he had to them alive and safe, including escorting them to hospitals if Fullmetal needed medical attention.

Which brought Roy's mind back to the present.

He was supposed to be the one answering the questions, but Al, logically, was the only one who properly knew all the information the doctors needed for patient documentation, and so Alphonse was the subject of the nurse's interrogation. Mustang would sign the form to verify its contents.

The colonel was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together into a cushion for his chin. His eyebrows were drawn together and his forehead was wrinkled. Anyone else might have thought he was annoyed by his subordinate's fall in health. But Hughes had seen the posture many times before. He knew his friend was worried. And, if Maes had interpreted the way Roy's mouth was pressed into the holster of his fingers correctly, frightened.

"He'll be fine, Roy."

Mustang's reply was a muffled grunt.

"The beds here are sanitized and there's top quality medication already prepared for administration. Plus, the doctors here are trained professionals, not a group of university volunteers whose only apprenticeships were to a bunch of hand-me-down biology course books. I bet Hawkeye will come out from behind that curtain any minute now to tell us the chief's up and kicking again."

Riza, who had not been given any indication that she had fulfilled her order of "being a woman" was in the care unit with Edward. The practitioners had agreed that it might be beneficial for Fullmetal-as well as for his caretakers-if was greeted by a familiar face once the sedatives wore off. Al had wanted to stay with his brother, but his broad, metal body would have proved an obstacle in the care unit.

"I don't understand." It was hardly above a whisper. Hughes leaned closer to his friend.

"What was that?"

"I don't understand." Roy lowered his hands to his lap, still sitting with his back curved protectively over his head. "I've seen him come in from missions with stab wounds. I've seen him grazed by bullets. I've seen him covered in more blood than his undersized body could possibly contain. But whenever someone mentions stitches, or clinics, or even physical exams, he starts yelling and flailing like Elicia whenever you say the word 'no'." Hughes's silence led him to realize the implication in his words and he quickly tried to redeem himself.

"Oh God, Maes, I'm sorry-"

"For what? It's the truth. Besides," the lieutenant colonel smiled softly as he thought of his beloved daughter, "there isn't much difference between the two. Especially where you're concerned."

Roy cast his friend a questioning look. Hughes's smile broke into an amused grin.

"'My State Alchemist's the youngest in the world! He can beat the snot out of a ripped boxing champion without breaking a sweat! Why, my Edward Elric is so-"

"Wait. Wait, a minute." Roy was sitting up now. "When have I ever said anything like that?"

Maes proffered his left fist and began listing various events and places, using his uncurling fingers to keep count.

"At State meetings. At orientations. Whenever there are young, attractive, single women-"

"I have never-"

"When you're at the bar buying drinks for those attractive single women. While you're walking those attractive single women back to your house. Intermittently while you and the attractive single women are having-"

"MAES!"

"What are you two talking about-Colonel, are you all right? Your face is completely red-"

"Nothing, Alphonse. It's nothing, we were talking about nothing."

"Are you sure-"

"NOTHING."

The steel alchemist was suddenly distracted by something in the opposite direction of Mustang's chair. Hughes was sniggering. He was silenced by a scowl from his commanding officer.

"About what you said earlier," said Maes, the levity gone from his expression, "about how you didn't understand Ed… do you remember when you, Hawkeye, and I went to that gigantic State-funded school in Central, to talk to the kids about 'becoming a hero of the military'?" Hughes allowed himself to inflect a trace of sarcasm as he repeated the phrase they had been issue to deliver to the children of the school.

Roy's only response was an audible gulp. He remembered. He remembered how Maes and Riza had had to guide him through the hallways, out the doors, and into his own car.

"Come and meet the Flame Alchemist, Hero of Ishval!"

It had been all over the walls, in the restrooms, on doors, always in happy, disgustingly bright shades of blue, yellow, and green; like invitations to a Sunday picnic in the spring, until Roy began to grieve for the trees that had been sacrificed to make all of those idiotic posters.

He remembered the innumerable, tiny, sticky hands grabbing onto his pant legs, his coat, tugging on his arms, asking him questions in their high-pitched, overly enthusiastic voices.

"Can you blow up my homework?"

"Do you spit fire out of your mouth? Are you dragon?!"

"Do you explode people?"

"Can you teach me to set fire to my teacher?"

"My mommy told me you killed lots of people in the war? Was it fun?"

And Roy had stood there, a statue made of flesh, silent, eyes ahead, oblivious to all things around him, until his lieutenants had both slipped an arm under his own and walked him out of the building, waving to passerby and smiling beatifically as their colonel, pale as sheet, struggled to keep the free lunch of dried meat in soggy bread he had been given from leaving his stomach.

"You pretend you hate kids. You harass the chief to prove your point and you won't have dinner with my wife and me because you 'don't want to frighten Elicia'. But that's not it."

Hughes's hand was on Mustang's shoulder and he had adopted Roy's bent sitting position. To an outsider, it looked as if they were discussing confidential military matters. Maes had perfected this technique long ago, so that he could comfort his friend when he needed it most, thought Roy wouldn't realize it until later, because it had yet to occur to him that the emotion he was showing could be seen as weakness. And even then he wouldn't feel that his public image was at all threatened, and again, he wouldn't know why. Though his commanding officer, Maes Hughes was cleverer than the colonel, in his own discreet way.

"You don't hate kids. You're terrified of them. Because you're most influential experience with them was in Ishval, in the war. Where they died. You can't stand to be around them, because they remind you of so many things you'd rather forget."

He couldn't forget their eyes. Their wide, pleading eyes that melted in their faces as he snapped his fingers, the smell of their flesh burning and their ear-piercing screams as they died. For their mother. For their God. For him to stop. And he hadn't stopped. He'd left them behind in a trail of singed gore, their bodies nothing but ashes, and their faces nothing but brands scarred into his memory.

And their ghosts crawling through his sleep.

"Edward's most influential experience in a medical facility was after he and Al tried human were caught in the war. After Ed lost his arm and leg and his brother... " Maes shook his head. The familiar lump of guilt rose in his throat. Roy hated lying to his friend, but for the brothers' safety, anyone who met them were told that Edward had had his limbs amputated and Alphonse had been mutilated to the point of needing full body automail after being caught in the crossfire of the Ishvallan Extermination. "And after that? He had automail screwed onto his stumps. Grown men can die from the pain of automail surgery. Edward was only eleven. How old were you when Ishval happened, Roy? Twenty-four?

"Ed pretends to hate doctors and needles and physicals because he doesn't want anyone to know how scared he is. Especially Al. He's supposed to be the big brother, after all. The great 'Fullmetal Alchemist' and all that crap. But right now… when he's like this…"

"He can't pretend he's not scared," Roy finished for him. "And that scares him even more."

"Brother's kind of stupid like that." Both officers jumped at Alphonse's voice echoing from within the armor. "He thinks that because I can't feel pain or cry or laugh like I used to, he shouldn't be able to either. He thinks it's his fault that I'm in this body." Al patted his breastplate with a leather gauntlet.

Any further conversation was stifled by the appearance of Riza Hawkeye. Her face was devoid of feeling as she moved from behind the curtains that screened the emergency care area from the line of chairs, two men and one boy. She looked at each of them in turn before saying two words.

"He's awake."

XXX

He first sensed that he was lying upon a surface. He then realized that the surface was a soft one, which led him to logistic that if he was able to feel, must be conscious. As if to confirm his calculation, his ears began picking up sounds: the clinking of instruments on metal tables, the murmured conversation of colleagues, the barely audible tapping of a person's shoes as they walked passed. It occurred to him that his eyes were shut. He opened them.

The light was unexpectedly dim, but Edward was thankful. His head was pounding terribly. From what he could tell, the ceiling was a simple affair, white paint, plaster, and drywall. The pungent reek of antiseptics made his nose sting.

"Edward?"

A body leaned over his own. He blinked sluggishly, his eyelids did not seem to want to part with each other.

"Edward, its Hawkeye. Do you understand me?"

Edward managed a grunt. Forming a verbal response took more energy than he possessed at the moment.

"You're at the hospital, Ed. You've been asleep for about an hour."

"Al."

It was a breathy whisper, and although she couldn't hear his voice, Riza instinctively knew what he had said.

"Yes, Alphonse is here," she said, giving the tiniest of nods as she spoke. "The colonel and Hughes are, too. Would you like to see them?"

I want Al. Captain Ass-Head can take cyanide pills for all I care.

"Yeah."

Hawkeye vanished from his side, and he was alone in the darkened medical unit. Edward became aware he was wearing nothing but hospital gown. A lightweight blanket had been thrown over him. It was surprisingly warm for its thinness, and Ed fell into a doze. He wanted to talk to his brother, but his body wanted to sleep. When he first heard Alphonse call his name, he thought he had dreamt it.

"Hey, Brother." Al spoke in a gentle, quiet, falsely cheerful way. Edward would have been annoyed, except that he found the tone oddly soothing. At a later time, he would realize that it had been meant to do so.

"Guess what? When I told the nurses that you don't like needles, they decided not to give you any IVs! Isn't that great?"

Someone shifted uncomfortably. Ed noticed Colonel Mustang standing off to the side in the darkened unit. His face was unreadable, but Ed knew Mustang well enough to know that when he was deliberately soulless, he was thinking about something he didn't want the outside world to know.

"Is it bad?"

"Is what bad, Brother?"

"What the colonel thinks. Is it bad?"

The clipped, vague sentences were little more than ravings to Alphonse. Roy shifted again, moving his weight from foot to the other, expression still blank. Al noticed the movement and realized what his brother was wondering.

"Did you want to say something, Colonel?"

Silence.

Al made a small sound of curiosity and turned his attention back to Ed.

"They haven't touched your shoulder, either. I told them you don't like strangers handling your automail. The doctors here sure are nice."

Mustang shifted a third time.

"Alphonse, stay here." Without further preamble, Roy slid behind the curtain and out of sight. His departure was so sudden that Edward was too surprised to register his absence until a full ten seconds after he'd left.

"What?"

"I don't know." Al shrugged his iron shoulders. "Maybe he has some colonel stuff to do. I can't see Lieutenant Hawkeye letting him get behind on his paperwork for any reason."

XXX

"Sir, the doctor needs to speak with you."

Riza's voice had drifted to his ears from the other side of the curtain. It was a whispered message, and Roy understood that Hawkeye did not want the Elric brothers to know where he had been called away to. Not yet, at least.

"Alphonse, stay here." Without waiting for a reply, Mustang passed through the slit in the screen and out of the unit. He had to blink once or twice to adjust his sight to fully lit hospital corridor. Riza stood to attention before him. He gave her a nod and she started down the hall, leading the way to the specialist's office.

XXX

The doctor was a young man. Roy estimate he was in his twenties, but which year of that decade he had the pleasure fulfilling, the colonel couldn't tell. There was an equally young woman acting as his assistant nurse; she stood behind the desk beside her superior, with an open file in her hand. Riza noticed that the girl's white hospital uniform ended far above her knew. Hawkeye glanced surreptitiously to her commanding officer. He was staring ahead, jaw set and gaze unfocused. She saw no sign that he had seen the nurse's attire. Even so, she cast the woman a warning glare and shifted closer to the colonel's side.

The doctor looked at the two military personnel in front of his desk, sighed, and started riffling through pages of paperwork, as such people are wont to do when they are searching for the proper way for explaining something difficult. Before the man could take a breath to speak, Mustang asked, "How long?"

The doctor stopped in mid-riffle and stared the colonel, nonplussed.

"I'm sorry?"

"How long does he have?"

Riza could feel the tension in Roy's nerves, it radiated off him in sparking waves.

"How long until what, sir?"

"How should I know?! You're the doctor!"

"Sir, please."

Roy glanced at his lieutenant, but said nothing.

"Well," the doctor said, all sense of ceremony lost, "we don't need to perform any bloodwork to know what he has; even if we did, the results would all be normal, except for maybe his phagocyte count, which is only natural in the case of infection. The first thing I should probably ask you about would be the last time Mr. Elric received his immunization shots-"

"How am I supposed to know that?!"

Again, the doctor stared at Mustang, but this time there was a hint of disapproval in the corners of his eyes.

"You are the boy's guardian, are you not? As such, his health and the preservation of his health ought to be monitored and dealt with as needed by you."

"Well, yes, but-"

Hawkeye stamped on his toe and his mouth snapped shut.

"Continue, please, doctor."

The man nodded his thanks to Riza and obliged.

"Is there anyone who would know the specifics of Mr. Elric's medical history?"

"His brother," Hawkeye spoke up before Mustang could make himself look any more foolish. "Shall I fetch him, sir?" She directed the question to the colonel.

Roy hesitated, not sure if it was safe to speak. When he did, he did so cautiously.

"Yes, Lieutenant, if you would be so kind."

He realized too late that he should have offered to go in her place. Now he was alone in the office with the condescending doctor silently scrutinizing him.

XXX

The doctor nearly jumped out of his chair in fright.

"What the-"

"You wanted to talk to me, doctor, sir?" Al's innocent voice rang forth from armor.

The man realized he was gawking with his mouth open. He remembered his manners, closed his mouth and cleared his throat.

"You… you are Mr. Elric's brother?"

"His younger brother Alphonse, that's me."

"His younger brother?!"

Mustang allowed himself a discreet smirk of satisfaction at the doctor's flabbergasted reaction to Al's iron body. Maybe the man would think twice before chiding a person of power, now that he knew what lay in that person's arsenal.

The doctor quickly composed himself to his best ability and attempted to focus on the matter at hand.

"You… you wouldn't happen to know what date your brother had his routine vaccinations, would you?"

"Vaccinations? Like shots, you mean?"

"Yes. Exactly that." The man nodded emphatically, as if his safety depended on Al's pleasure of knowing he was right.

Alphonse was quiet for a moment. Mustang recognized it for self-preparation, as the young alchemist commonly did before addressing a subject he found particularly unappealing.

"Well… Brother's never liked shots. He's always hated getting them. The only time he was actually convinced to get them… was when Mom took us to Granny's one time… Everyone was excited that 'cause they'd finally made a serum that worked more than a month..."

"And how long ago was that?"

"I don't know… I was really little, so I don't really remember it, but… I think he was two, or three…"

"And he's thirteen now, according to information form that was provided?"

"Yes. That's right."

The doctor sighed.

"According the research by medical alchemists, a person must receive a regular set of immunizations every ten years. Especially a tetanus immunization, it's the most important."

"Why? What makes this tetanus shot so special?" Alphonse spoke with a voice of one who already knows the answer to one's question, but is still compelled to ask it.

"Because tetanus is one of the most undesirable diseases in medical history, and I'm sorry, young Elric, but… your brother has contracted it."

You guys are too smart for me. Most of you figured it out before Chapter 2. Not that I was secretive about or anything... Oh, and the last part, about it being one of the worst diseases known to man? That's true, I didn't make it up. Google at your own risk. The stuff it gives you is pretty nasty.