"I'll try to be home for dinner. If I can't make it, I'll grab something from the café down the street. Tell Elicia I love her. Yes, I love you too, Gracia. See you tonight."

Maes Hughes replaced the phone receiver onto its holster and ran a hand down his face tiredly. While Alphonse, Riza, and Roy had gone to check on Edward, he had gone to the lobby in search of a public phone. He had, naturally, called his wife and explained the situation to the best of his ability. Mrs. Hughes had immediately volunteered any assistance she could give. She, like her husband, were fond of the Elric brothers, as parents are made to appreciate the young. He had promised to deliver her message, and was now on his way to the emergency care ward to do just that. Employing the help of a passing attendant, he was guided to the medical unit in which Edward lay resting. Hughes sat in the chair next to the bed, watching the boy twitch involuntarily in his sleep and listening to the various sounds that are trademark to medical centers.

Maes slipped into a doze, leaning forward in the chair and resting his chin in his cupped hands, and resting his elbows on the edge of the bed. So, when he was brought to full awareness by a ringing crash, his arms abandoned his head and his back jerked straight. He ended up nearly face-planting into the mattress and whacked his shoulder blades against the back of the chair within the same second. Instinctively, he looked around the unit to find the source of the disturbance. No panic ensued during the following moments, and the lieutenant colonel calmed, shrugging dismissively and turned to where Ed lay upon the bed.

"I guess someone dropped something-Ed?"

The boy's eyes were open and he stared blankly at the ceiling. He didn't seem to know Hughes was there. Maes thought the young alchemist to be in a state of wakeful sleep, that now that his subconscious senses had confirmed there was no threat present, he would close his eyes and continue to spasm as he dreamed.

"Al."

Ed spoke the one syllable of his brother's name, and Hughes knew what he was going to do before he did it.

"Ed, stay down, it was just-"

The boy ignored the hand Maes placed on his chest and struggled to sit up. He managed to pull himself halfway before his back began to arch against his will. To Hughes, it was like watching a vaulting pole bend under the weight of an athlete as they leapt: beginning as a solid line, then quickly bending as the athlete's weight pulled one end closer the other, and falling to the ground, forgotten, as the person lets go and completes the stunt.

But unlike the vaulting pole, Edward did not return to his original position upon descending. He simply bent further, until his head and his toes were the only parts of his body touching the bed, the rest of was suspended above it. A particularly vicious spasm ran down his spine and he jerked violently. The movement ruined his balance, and he fell sideways. Hughes caught him out of reflex, ignoring the fact that Ed's topple had been cushioned by the mattress. For the second time that day, Maes held Edward in his arms as the boy writhed uncontrollably, teeth bared and eyes staring, his arm trapped behind his back, his hand clenching and unclenching listlessly.

But only his left.

His right hand, devoid of nerves or fibers susceptible to the toxin, had somehow been subdued by its throttled master, and reached to his throat, fingers scrabbling around his drooling mouth. Hughes remembered the boy's blue gums in the office. Edward's body hadn't had a chance to properly recover from its previous deprivation of air. His face was already turning a dangerous shade of red and his fingers increased their efforts of stimulating his trachea.

"Nurse! NURSE!"

The curtain screen of the unit was yanked backward before he had completed his scream. Arms coated in the white sleeves of lab coat appeared, snatching Edward from Hughes's arms.

The nurse laid Edward on the cot, bracing him with his own body, and grabbed what looked like a pump from a giantess's perfume bottle. As calm as the water of a deep creek, the nurse stared Hughes in the eyes.

"Go find a doctor. Tell them to get an air ventilator."

The man's voice was deceptively peaceful, but the urgency he felt was clear in the one-handed shove he directed into Hughes's chest. He needed no further urging. Maes burst from the unit and his eyes landed on a sign on the wall, next to an intersection in the corridor. He saw that it "Emergency Physicians Offices." He threw himself towards it.

XXX

For five seconds, Al, Riza, Roy, and the doctor gawked at Hughes as the man panted for breath. Then a steel Argonaut nearly flattened him as Alphonse ran, clanking, out of the room. The doctor dashed after him a second later. Maes, still panting, forced himself upright and looked to his commanding officer for instruction. Roy shared glances between his lieutenants. Then, without a word, he departed the office at a fast walk. Hawkeye and Hughes followed him quickly.

XXX

"BROTHER!"

"Young Elric, please-"

"NO! LET ME SEE MY BROTHER!"

"If you go in there while the technicians are working on him, you could-"

"I'LL HIT YOU! I'LL HIT YOU IF YOU DON'T LET ME SEE HIM! I SWEAR I WILL!"

"He is quite sincere, Doctor," said Mustang, appearing from behind the suit of armor with his subordinates in tow. "He has already assaulted one physician today, and if you ask him, he won't be able to tell you what felt like, because Alphonse all but demolished the man's face."

The doctor visibly paled and hurriedly stepped aside. Al, despite his threat of violence a mere moment ago, thanked him and vanished into the medical unit. The colonel followed suit, without bothering to petition the doctor for permission. The man didn't protest. He was too busy imagining a giant metal fist blunting his nose.

The manual respirator had been discarded upon the arrival of the industrial one. The doctor had sent his assistant Linda to fetch, having crossed paths with her as she delivered his afternoon coffee to his desk. Edward's body lay crumpled upon the bed, eyes closed and horrifically still. Al watched nurse hold the oxygen mask over his brother's face, while another monitored his pulse, maneuvering her stethoscope over his chest as she searched for the clearest echo of his heart she could find.

"Is he-"

"He's not dead. In fact, he's breathing on his own right now. The air in the respirator has extra oxygen in it, so it'll help him recover faster."

The nurse could have said he was administering a medication that would meant to revitalize Edward to a condition of flawless health for the gratitude Alphonse expressed to him. The nurse's cheeks were tinted pink with flattery by the time Al could no longer think of ways to say "thank you" that he hadn't already said.

XXX

It took Edward some time to realize he was conscious. He peeled his eyes open, surprised by how badly he immediately wanted to close them again and sleep. There was hand behind his head, pressing his mouth and nose into some sort of container that poured sweet air down his throat, filling his lungs despite their inability to collect oxygen for themselves.

"Good morning."

He didn't recognize the voice. He did, however, know the tinny ring that followed.

"Brother! You're awake!"

Ed tried to lift his left hand, meaning to reach for his brother. His palm and fingers managed to rise, but his wrist and arm didn't leave the bedsheet. Leather fingers wrapped around his own brushed his knuckles with a soft, empty thumb sleeve. Ed tried to call out his brother's name, but all he managed was a pathetic squeak.

And then something cold touched the inside of his elbow.

"What are you doing?" Al's grip on his hand tightened.

"Your brother's heart is beating too quickly. This is an anti-arrhythmic that'll slightly slow down his pulse."

The alcohol-saturated cotton was removed and Edward's exhausted brain finally understood what was about to happen.

"No!"

The physicians ignored him. Ed tried to raise his automail arm and slap anyone who came too close, but his shoulder was especially tender from the events of the day and the pain was enough to make him moan. To his horror, the sound he hadn't the strength to stifle encouraged yet another nurse to encroach. He heard footsteps as someone crossed to the other side of his bed and he felt gloved hands take hold of his port. At the same moment he felt the sting of something sharp and thin being forced beneath his skin.

XXX

Fullmetal suddenly began flailing, kicking his legs wildly so that the hospital blanket covering his body broiled like over-cooked porridge. The nurse administering the injection managed to deliver the medicine and remove the syringe before Edward swung his arm around in an attempt to punch them. Alphonse, from whom Ed had wrenched his hand, caught his brother's fist and held it in both of his own. And then the shouting started.

"Stop! Stop it! Stop-"

"Mr. Elric, we are trying to-"

"Doctor, please, give Brother a minute-"

"Alphonse, let the doctors do their job-"

"Somebody hold him down while I take a look at his shoulder!"

"NO! Don't touch-"

"QUIET!"

Silence filled the unit.

All eyes were upon the colonel.

Roy glared at each person in turn, except for Edward, who trembled upon the mattress as he succumbed to another, albeit feeble, spasmodic fit.

"You." Mustang turned to the practitioner working the air ventilator. "Keep him breathing," he said, nodding to the bed. The nurse followed the direction of the colonel's gesture dumbly, then started as he saw Ed fighting for breath and promptly shoved the oxygen mask over the boy's mouth and nose.

"You." Roy faced the exasperated doctor. "Come with me. Lieutenants Hawkeye and Hughes."

"Sir?" they said simultaneously, standing to attention.

"Make sure no one so much as looks at Fullmetal except for Alphonse and the man handling the ventilator." The colonel glared at the now frightened-looking doctor once more before leading the way down the hall.

XXX

"I am trying to help-"

Roy raised his hand in a halting gesture and the doctor's sentence went unfinished.

The two men were standing in an unoccupied unit situated on the far side of the ward from Edward's. From such a distance the boy and those around him could not possibly hear their discussion. And if Mustang had his way, as he usually did, they never would.

"The boy has automail," he said, flatly and impersonal.

The doctor made an angry huffing noise and shook his head in perplexity.

"I can see that! What are you trying to prove, stating the-"

And then his mind finished digesting the colonel's words.

The boy had automail.

The doctor blinked, realized he was gawking at a military official with his mouth hanging open, closed it, swallowed, and spoke in a voice hoarse with chastise.

"What… what kind of an accident was he in to… to be injured so badly at such a young age?"

"That is classified information. All you need to know is that Fullmetal was an eleven-year-old child when he underwent surgery for his automail limbs."

"The damage an experience like that can have on such an underdeveloped mind… has he gone through any kind of therapy for the trauma? Who does he turn to for comfort?"

Roy was surprised by the amount of effort it took to ignore the doctor's questions.

"I know you're trying to fulfill your position as a doctor and treat his illness, but Fullmetal has yet to recover from the memories of his procedures. If you attempt to sedate him, inject him, anything that might remind him of the surgery, he will panic and fight you-"

"Then what are we supposed to do? This is an emergency ward, Colonel! It may be quiet now, but wait until tonight, when the drunks and collision survivors and psychotics come in. If we don't sedate him, he'll be in constant opisthotonos! He'll be dead by midnight."

"Can't you put him in a private room?"

The doctor shook his head.

"It's not safe. He needs to supervised twenty-four seven. He starts tetanizing unexpectedly, someone needs to be there to administer relaxants and operate the ventilator. If he's in a room by himself, we'd have to organize a post schedule among the physicians, and we need all of our medical personnel on stand-by in case of an emergency. I won't allow a patient to die on the operating table because we were short one technician. We need him here, where he can be easily reached at any time by anyone, and he needs to be tranquilized."

"I won't let you do that."

The colonel and the doctor stared at each other, each daring the other to look away first. The contest quickly proved to be a stalemate.

"I understand you only want what's best for the boy. And I commend you for that," the doctor said, eyes still locked adamantly with Roy's. "But if he is recuperate without the influence analgesics, he has to be kept in an unchanging, noiseless, environment, with little lighting and a caregiver who is able and willing to stay by his side constantly."

"Fine, then." Mustang said his next four words without thinking. "Give him to me."

For the first few seconds, the doctor didn't react. Then his eyes slowly widened, and his mouth fell open. He made a sound, as if he meant to speak, but his voice seemed caught in his throat. He closed his mouth, swallowed, and tried again.

"What?!"

"I said-"

"I know what you said!" The doctor's voice was high and hoarse. "You… you… that's ridiculous! You can't-"

"I'm not married. I have no children. My house is as silent and boring as they come."

"Oh, that's all well and good! But you'd need medicines! Anti-toxins and anti-arrhythmic and antibiotics-"

"Which I will receive from you. Heart rate medication can be taken be taken orally, can it not?"

"Well, yes… but the anti-toxins can't! And without them more of his nerves will be damaged and his recovery will take longer."

"Then I'll give it to Fullmetal however it needs to be given. I'm sure he'll be much more willing to cooperate with someone who doesn't wear a hospital uniform or tries to vegetate him."

The doctor's face turned bright red.

"Well… you'd need a ventilator! And don't think I'll provide, this hospital needs every single respirator in working condition it has!"

"How about one that isn't in working condition? Would you lend me one of those?"

"Ha! You must be joking! How in the world do you plan on using broken equipment?"

"I don't. I know someone who'll make it get it working better than before it broke."

The doctor, flustered beyond belief, sported the look of someone who had just lost a considerable amount of money in a gamble he had been sure he would win, and was now desperately trying to prove that he had been cheated.

"You'd have to be near him at all times."

"Then I will."

"You'd have to help him eat-"

"I will."

"Change his sheets and help him bathe-"

"I will."

"You say you will. But what if you can't? You don't know how to operate a ventilator, do you? And what about your military duties-"

"I have a team that I can call on for any reason at any time, and they will do what I tell them to do and when I tell them to do it."

"And what about me?" The doctor's eyes narrowed and he unconsciously stood straighter in an instinctive attempt to appear intimidating. "What if I refuse to do what you say? What if I refuse to let you have the boy? What if-"

The collar of the doctor's uniform suddenly tightened around his neck. He found his face centimeters away from the colonel's, so all the man could see were two very big, very furious, very black eyes.

"You won't. Because I am Fullmetal's guardian and commanding officer and you cannot do anything to him without my permission. Because I know people, and I can have your license revoked. I can have you indicted. I can make it so that no clinic or center will hire you. So, if you like life the way it is, I suggest you do what I say. Because when I give an order, I damn well expect it to be followed."

XXX

Edward slept in a ball-like position, his limbs, flesh and metal pulled protectively into his body, his head tucked into his chest. Al rested a hand on his brother's side, and though he couldn't feel, he could see the leather fingers rise and fall along with Ed's ribcage as he breathed. No one dared speak. Earlier, one of the nurses had sneezed, and the sound had caused Ed to stir slightly. Al had fixed the unfortunate physician with such a long, eyeless stare that noise itself had ceased to exist in the unit thereafter.

The footsteps drumming up the hall were ignored until Mustang passed through the screen.

"Colonel?" Alphonse kept his ringing voice to a low whisper. Roy didn't respond. He watched Edward breathe, and though Al could tell he was thinking, he couldn't discern what about.

"Hawkeye."

"Sir?"

"Bring my car around to the front of the building, and make sure the back seat's open."

"Yes, sir."

"Wait."

"Sir?"

Roy cast his gaze around the unit. He counted only one lieutenant present, and about to depart.

"Where's Hughes?"

"He's on the phone with his wife, sir."

"Again?"

"Yes. He's arranging for Gracia to bring dinner to your house. He thought it might help make your first night with Edward a little easier."

"Oh. All right, then."

Riza pulled the curtain aside.

"Wait, what!?"

"Maes stood guard while you and the doctor spoke, sir. He wanted to lessen the chance of your conversation being heard by unwelcome ears, and he was worried you might set the good doctor's hair on fire."

Hawkeye stepped out into the hallway before Mustang could question her further, letting the curtain fall softly back into place behind her.

"Um, Colonel?"

"Yes, Alphonse?"

He was going to guess Hughes had reported the outcome of his discussion with the doctor to everyone in the unit. Except, maybe, for Ed, who had clearly been asleep for some time.

"I just wanted to know… Did you mean it? What you said? About Brother?"

Something flashed across the colonel's face: Al barely managed, but in the second it was there he saw sadness.

"Yes, Alphonse. I did mean it. Fullmetal is my subordinate, and I always look out for my subordinates."

And all of this is my fault.