Thank you all so much for reviewing! Now- let's rewind a bit, and see what Roy has been up to, while Ed's been... yeah :D

When Roy got back from the ice bath, hugging himself and shivering, Ed was nowhere to be seen.

Not on the couch. Not back in either one of their rooms. There wasn't even an empty wheelchair around.

There was absolutely no sign of him.

Roy hesitated, chewing nervously on the quick of his thumb, and tried to stay calm.

This didn't mean anything. Right? Maybe this new treatment just- took longer. Whatever it was. Maybe it just took longer. Right?

Really, what else was it supposed to be? He laughed nervously to himself, shivering even harder as he just stood there in the middle of the room, staring around at the deserted walls. Of course it was just the new treatment taking a little bit longer. Shouldn't it anyway, if it was more effective, like the nurses had said? It made perfect sense for it to take a little longer for him to get back.

He'd be back sooner or later. Sooner rather than later. He would.

Still shivering, now trying not to nervously chew at his thumbnail, Roy grabbed a blanket from one of their rooms, headed back out to the couch, and sat down to wait.

Ed never came.

By the time the nurses finally showed up again, surely hours late, Roy's stomach had twisted itself into tight, anxious knots, and he was shivering harder than ever. He nearly jumped to his feet the second he saw them, too nervous to be relieved, reaching out with a trembling hand-

Then stopped, when he saw Ed wasn't with them.

They were completely alone, and Ed just- wasn't there.

The pair approached him the way they always did, all smiles, all charm, as if everything was okay and Ed wasn't just gone. "Roy," Ann told him, leading the way, and he could see the patronizing hint to her smile as clearly as if she'd screamed it at him, "time to go to bed, now. Let's go."

He was, regretfully, rather used to be treated like this by now; as much as it irked him to just grit his teeth and move on- well, he had more important things to focus on now, didn't he, anyway? "Where's Ed?" he asked, allowing her to all but force him up to his feet. He leaned around her as if Ed might just pop out from behind the pair, then looked nervously back towards the locked door as if Ed might suddenly appear from behind it. "Is he... is he okay?"

The hand on his elbow didn't loosen, and the fake, plastic smile on her face didn't waver an inch. "He's perfectly fine. Just taking some time adjusting to his treatment, is all. Come on, now, Roy." She pulled him a little more firmly down the hallway, hand tightening in a way that was like he was a dog being pulled on a leash- and Roy was left with no choice but to worry, and comply.

Some time adjusting? He doubted that. What the hell did that even mean? Surely, if he'd taken ill or something- well, this was a hospital. They could've just taken Ed back to his room, right? Or at least... something, other than this. But then...

Roy shook his head at himself weakly, forcing a smile and calmness. No, no- what was he doing? He was sounding just like Ed, now. Whatever this new treatment was, it had only been for Ed's own benefit, right? And if it had made him worse, or hadn't worked somehow, then they wouldn't do it again, would they? Right, he had to just calm down, now... as much as he didn't like this place, as much as he wanted Ed back here with him where he could keep an eye on him, as potentially appealing as it was to think of these nurses as working against them- that wouldn't help anything, right?

Besides, Ed would be back soon... he could just talk to him about it then.

He reluctantly let the nurses shepherd him back into his own room, accepting the medication they handed him to swallow without thought, hiding the sleeping pill under his tongue. He watched uncomfortably as the lights were flicked out, hands wringing together in his lap as the nurses stepped out, one by one, and shut the door behind them-

Again, leaving him alone.

Roy fidgeted nervously again.

Where the hell was Ed?

He sat up that entire night, blanket clutched tightly around his shoulders, and waited.

The nurses very rarely came to check on them at night, from what he'd seen so far. He was able to just sit there in the uncomfortable hospital bed, shivering miserably, and wait- listening for even the faintest sound from out in that hallway that meant someone was there. He even found himself tiptoeing outside twice, hands trembling as he slipped back down to Ed's room-

But it was completely, almost terrifyingly, empty.

Roy lingered worriedly in the doorway, staring down at the empty hospital bed. The blankets were even still rumpled.

Ed just wasn't there.

He hesitated, swallowing tightly.

Then, with a muttered curse, Roy hurried forward, grabbing the threadbare blanket off the bed to yank it after himself as he bolted out the door and hurried back down to his own room again, dragging it just as tightly around his shoulders as his own.

For when Ed came back, he told himself. Ed had it much worse than he did; he was so much smaller than him, the cold always hit him so much harder, and it lasted longer, too, and the worst part was always when they just got back, the blankets still empty and cold... maybe if he used it now, he could have it warm when Ed came back- although that wasn't relevant now, was it? They'd started Ed on some new treatment, so there was no guarantee they'd even used ice on him at all, he might be totally fine now- except he wasn't fine, because he wasn't here, and-

Roy moaned, burying his face in his hands. Then, in a burst of frustrated worry, he jerked a hand out to grab Ed's blanket and dragged it to join his own, curling into himself underneath them, and tried to just keep breathing.

He'd be fine. He was sure of it. Just fine.

...Where was he?

Roy had no way of telling time. But he imagined it was around two or three in the morning, when he finally caved in to drooping eyelids, the cold, the drugs, and exhaustion to slump back against the headboard, and fall asleep.

The next morning, he was entirely unsurprised to be shaken awake from his still upright position by a perturbed Susan, and not jolted away by Ed.

Worried still, of course... worried worse... but not surprised.

"Is Ed okay?" he asked again, rushing to get the question in before she'd managed to hand him the morning's dose of pills. He shifted anxiously, still cold hands trembling under the blankets.

She waved away his question like it was a buzzing fly, pressing the medication into his palm and just offhandedly dismissing him in the same breath. "Don't you worry about him, Roy."

Ha, Roy remarked silently, as she nudged his hand closer to his mouth. Too late.

Roy lasted about an hour into one day, anxiously tapping his foot the entire time and trying not to lose it, before he gave in, and headed back to Ed's room.

He grabbed the hidden notes Ed had been stashing in here- and, that Ed had been mostly responsible for transcribing, if he really thought about it. It was a bit of a risk to study them out in the open, but he was relatively confident he'd be able to flip them over to an innocent sheet of doodles quick enough, if one of the nurses came snooping, and if Ed wasn't here with him, he might as well make some progress, and...

And Roy really was going stir crazy just sitting there with nothing to do. He desperately needed something to focus on other than Ed, or he really was going to lose his goddamn mind.

He couldn't help but feel just the least bit selfish, though, as he crept back out towards the couch he normally shared with Ed, papers clutched in still trembling hands. After all, he'd only been alone for... what? Half a day, maybe? If that? Well- how long had Ed been alone here? It was hard to accurately measure the time, as Roy himself had experienced, and Ed seemed like the type to underplay things, so who really knew- but Roy's best guess was that Ed had been here for weeks like this. Nothing and nobody there with him, nothing to do but let the nurses drag and tie him down into an ice bath, or drug him down into oblivion in the middle of the night and leave him there to suffer.

He'd just been sitting here, all alone. Going through that.

For weeks.

Roy's fists clenched so tightly around the paper he nearly tore the first sheet, and he found the carefully sketched image of the ink on their backs crinkled to all ruin.

Was it really so surprising Ed was paranoid, angry, and... well, if the hospital was to be believed... a little crazy? Left by himself, and undeniably suffering, for that long?

Roy sent another dark glare around the small, lonely room, crinkling the sheets in his fists again.

He could hardly blame him. Roy found himself going a little crazy with worry already, and it hadn't even been a day.

Despite Roy's best hopes- and exactly in line with his worst worries-

Ed did not come back.

He sat through the ice bath silently on the first day, or as silently as he could manage to, only allowing himself to ask, once again, is Ed okay? His answer was as stubbornly vague and unhelpful as he'd learned to expect, and when Roy finally found himself curled up back in his bed, shivering under two layers of blankets, rubbing at sore wrists and ankles, he was no more informed than before, and about twice as worried. That night passed much the same as the one before it had, too; he couldn't let himself sleep until early morning, and when he finally did slip backwards into dreams, it was an uneasy sleep that he jolted out of every few minutes.

Once again, he ended up heading down to check on Ed's room more than once, and was just as disappointed every single time that he found it empty.

The next day passed just as the last had, except perhaps more infuriatingly slowly and just lonely. No one answered ever bothered to answer his questions, and Ed, still, never showed.

That similarly sleepless night, the nightmares started.

The third day- Roy was keeping a tally on the sheets of tattoo sketches, by this point- he set his focus on trying to find out about Ed again, but this time, in a different way. He decided to wait until he'd managed to get Susan alone; she was the younger of the pair, seemingly more inexperienced, and if he had to manipulate one of them, he'd put his bets on her. So he bit his tongue and sat there like a good patient and he waited, because he didn't have another choice.

And luck was with him that day, when Susan was the one who came along to make him go to another treatment.

Inwardly both relieved and anxious, that anxiety that had been present and growing since day one cresting into an almost undeniable storm as he watched the straps be drawn tightly around first his wrists, then his ankles. He was regretfully used to it by now, and knew from everything that Ed had told him fighting back was a bad idea- but thinking about Ed had him even more distressed all over again, leaving Roy to clench his jaw and watch the nurse and wait, until he felt the moment was right to speak up.

"I-is Ed ok-k-kay?" he stuttered finally.

Susan, half-distracted by checking the strap around his left foot, stopped.

"Roy," she told him, but kept her face turned away, "we've told you, haven't we? Ed's perfectly fine."

His instincts had been right. Roy knew, his eyes narrowed, staring harder up at the woman, that she was lying to him.

It was the same answer he'd already been given, but this time, alone like this- maybe his own vulnerable position had something to do with it, he didn't know- but he could see that she was a liar. The hesitant shadow of her face, the way she wouldn't look at him fully, her uncertain smile...

Roy glared harder at her, his shivering, aching body tensing and his anxiety growing.

She was lying.

Susan shifted uncomfortably, still averting her eyes but quite plainly aware she was being stared at now, shifting in a way that made her lie more and more obvious by the second. She laughed weakly, still staring downwards, and gave the strap around his ankle an unnecessary tug that had him gritting his teeth in pain and clenching his fist is restrained fury, but then- "Roy, you really should just stop asking about him anyway. You- you know we can't discuss other patients with you, don't you? Besides, you should just be focusing on getting better! Let us worry about Ed!"

Roy glared harder. Every instinct of his shivering, sore body screamed against her, and he suddenly found himself perversely grateful for the straps, for stopping him from doing something he would regret.

I would, he thought bitterly, if you hadn't given me every reason to not trust you with him.

I would, if you hadn't already proven I can take far better care of him than you.

"R-right," he bit out tensely through chattering teeth, and narrowed his eyes again.

Roy wasn't sure how far to push this now, unfortunately. He didn't exactly have any way to force the information out of her, bar breaking free and heading after her in a fist fight, and somehow, Roy just didn't envision that ending well. He'd already gotten more than he'd expected out of today, even if the knowledge, the proof, the truth that Ed was not okay made his stomach twist and his hands shake and his screaming body stiffen with something near terror... besides, maybe his current position of being freezing, in pain, and miserable was biasing things- but he didn't dare want to try anything now.

He was close to losing it enough as it was. He really... really... didn't want to make things worse for himself than they already were.

But- but shouldn't he? If Ed was worse off than he was right now- shouldn't he risk everything if it might help? If Ed was being hurt so much worse than he was right now, it was just selfish to try and protect himself when-

But what good would it do Ed? If he fought back now, it might, might, bring him some more information, maybe peace of mind- but that was it. It wouldn't help Ed. In fact, it could even make things worse for him.

Roy groaned, tensing miserably even more against the restraints. His body hurt. He couldn't think. He couldn't- wait...

His eyes widened.

Wait...

"W-what about- I mean... is t-there s-s-someone?" he stammered, staring up at her. This time, his words just got an innocent blink of a confusion, signalling misunderstanding rather than a refusal to tell him, and Roy hurried to get the words out. "Y-you said you... c-c-couldn't t-tell me. But he has... s-someone asking about h-him... doesn't he? L-like... like a... f-family, right?"

After all, there was very little Roy could do for him in this position, no matter what information he found out. But there did have to be someone, didn't there? Someone looking out for him. Someone who wanted him to be okay. Ed was just a child, after all- hell, where were his parents? What kind of parents would just leave their child in a place like this for so long, not even coming to visit so much as one time?

There just had to be someone.

Once again, his questions got Susan to pause. She hesitated by his feet again, face turned away, looking just like she had before- and when she finally turned to face him, her smile was just as disingenuous as before. "You know I can't tell you that, Roy," she told him, just a little bit weaker than before- and Roy's spirits fell even lower.

This time, however, he did not have the time to sit there, shiver, and be miserable.

Another terrible thought hit him before he did.

"...r-right," he murmured weakly, something in his chest clenching. He abruptly felt almost sick, so cold his body hurt and so anxious he wanted to throw up, but he couldn't look anything but desperate as he lifted his eyes up to the nurse again and went on. "What about... m-me? ...do I have... s-someone?"

This time, her wince was even more obvious, and Roy's heart sunk before she'd even replied.

"We... haven't had anyone come in asking about you, Roy."

"No-" He stopped, shivering harder, then gasped, "n-no n-next of kin? N-nothing?" He sounded desperate and didn't care, because there had to be someone out there who knew him, who cared about him; perhaps he couldn't remember them but they remembered him, and they could help him make sense of all this- they-

"There's no next of kin on file, Roy," she said, a little more weakly than before, and Roy's heart fell.

There... wasn't anyone?

...Oh.

There... wasn't anyone.

...

No family.

Roy sunk a little further back into the clinking, biting ice, the straps digging in his wrists, something in his chest clenching agonizingly tightly. It became acutely cold and lonely again, as he somehow felt very, very small.

He was alone here.

Roy swallowed, staring miserably away from the nurse again. It probably was the drugs, and pain, and lack of sleep more than anything else, but for just a moment, he suddenly had to clench his jaw and swallow not to start crying.

He really, really wanted Ed back.

That night, Roy curled up silently on his side, hugging the blankets to his chest and too exhausted, too miserable, to keep up his midnight vigil this time. He kept on fighting back the lump in his throat that just wouldn't seem to go away, and tried not to think about the news he'd learned that day. He desperately bunched the two blankets closer, clutching tighter to Ed's, wrapping his fists in it as if to remind himself that Ed, at least, was real. No matter what hurt and mistreatment Ed was being put through now, no matter the fact that he wasn't here now, no matter the fact that... he didn't have anyone else... he had Ed.

He did.

When Roy finally managed to go to sleep that night, it was because he held the thick bundle of blankets in his arms so tight he could pretend it was another person, and it was just small enough for his unconscious, half-drugged mind to believe it was Ed.

Please be okay, Ed. Please be okay.

Please be... real...

And that was how the days passed.

A lonely, unhappy morning of drugs, and a nurse who wouldn't answer his questions about Ed. A lonely, unhappy afternoon of restraints and ice, and a nurse who wouldn't answer his questions about Ed. A lonely, unhappy, freezing night of more drugs- and still, no Ed.

He kept his tallies scratched down on those sheets of notes, watching the days slip by. He clung to those notes, because that was the only proof he had anymore that hadn't dreamed up the very idea of that fierce, confident child who was the only reason he'd gotten through any of this at all.

The days reached double digits.

Ed still wasn't there.

The moment when Roy finally snapped, in retrospect, was curiously innocuous.

The day was no worse than any other had been. By now, in fact, Roy had found a curious sort of status quo; it was terrifying, still, but the loneliness was not unbearable anymore, simply because he had to bear it- sick and miserable and freezing and lonely, but that was just what his existence had devolved down into now, and there was nothing he could do to change it, nothing at all he could do but sit and bide his time.

The day was just like any other, as he sat out there hopelessly on that couch, staring blankly down at the drawings of the tattoos, and let his nervous mind drift.

The tattoo on his back itched. The nervous, miserable twitch in his hands, the only that Ed's disappearance had spurred on, was only seeming to grow.

Even though Roy was still skipping that damn sedative, all thanks to Ed, he was still drugged, pretty heavily; when Ed had been there, it had been easy enough to shake off and talk to him, but he'd learned pretty quickly such a feat was much harder now that he was alone. He'd hoped to have made some more progress on figuring out the tattoos so Ed could at least have something positive when he finally made it back here (he has to be coming back, he has to, HE HAS TO) but he'd found his mind drifting more often than not. Drifting in a sickening sea so badly he barely managed to get through even one sloppy paragraph, before he'd forgotten where he was and lost everything but the memory of that angry, determined boy who no longer sat next to him.

It was in that state, again, that Ann approached him.

Roy realized too late she was in the room; by the time he'd blinked and suddenly, she was there, he didn't have time to hide the notes, not without drawing her attention to them in the first place. He clenched his jaw and fists but forced himself to keep still, staring still blankly down. His best bet was just to fake being drugged. If he didn't make the sheets look important, she wouldn't treat them as important, either.

Sure enough, Ann barely even gave the sketches a second look as she stopped before him, holding out a hand as if needed or even wanted her damn help. "Come on, Roy," she told him, gesturing. "Time for treatment!"

"...right," he muttered reluctantly. Slowly, already starting to feel himself shiver, Roy began to get to his feet.

As he moved, though, he had to set the papers aside, and that attracted her attention; the nurse stepped around him a bit to lean down and see, and she smiled brightly. "Oh, look at this!" she exclaimed like he was a five year old proudly displaying his macaroni art to her. "Well, this is nice, Roy; what a nice drawing."

Roy stiffened.

He looked at the nurse, and her stupid, constant, innocent smile and the stupid, constant, patronizing light in her eyes.

He looked back down at the sheet of paper again. The paper on which Ed had painstakingly drawn out every last detail of the suspicious, worrisome ink on their backs, the ink that he was now sure the hospital had done to him. That was all Roy had anymore to try and find out what was going on here, and what had been done to Ed.

His eyes darkened, and his soul quaked in black, cold-hearted rage.

"Don't touch me," he hissed, and ripped his arm out of the nurse's hand.

"R-Roy?"

"I said don't touch me-" he snapped, stepping back away from here, "and don't talk about Ed like that."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously again, some of that innocent surprise on the nurse's face shifting into something he knew that was supposed to scare him but he did not care anymore. "I'm not going anywhere with you!" he shouted, throwing his arms out and jerking backwards when she made an attempt to touch him again. "Not until you tell me what you've done to Ed!"

Ann stepped slowly backwards again, and Roy wasn't stupid; he knew she was going to get help, he knew he'd already gone too far, but he'd just been pushed too far and couldn't stop himself any longer. "He's been gone FOURTEEN DAYS! Don't you dare talk about him like that, don't you dare act like he's okay! Where is he?! What did you do to him?!"

He'd been gone for so long, the nurses doing god knew what to him this whole time- and they never did anything but act like Ed was totally, completely fine, like they were helping him-

"WHERE IS HE?!" he screamed, just in time for Ann to reach the door, and lean back out to call for help. What did he care; Ed was worse off than he was and nothing was changing, nothing, he was just wasting away into nothing sitting here by himself and he was scared to death and just wanted Ed back. "Where is he?! What have you done to him?! WHERE IS HE?!"

As if the words themselves had summoned them, two more orderlies burst into the room from behind Ann; he was already outsized, outnumbered, and outmatched, but if he was going to screw himself over tonight, he might as well commit to it, and he was the one who threw the first punch.

"WHERE IS ED?!"

On the upside, he avoided the ice bath that day.

The heavy drugs dulled the pain in his throat from screaming to just a soft throb, too.

Small mercies, he thought.

Unlike the last time he'd ended up tied to his own bed, psychotic, agonizing drugs pouring into his veins, Ed wasn't there to bear it with him. Somehow, with as terrified as he'd found himself to be about that boy's state, Ed's absence was harder to take than everything else combined.

He kicked miserably at the impossibly tight straps, straining upwards, screaming long and hard to the ceiling until he ran out of breath and the scalding pain sent him back down, miserable and gasping. He strained again, kicking and fighting, but there was nowhere to go and nothing for him to do but just lie there, feel the pain, and be alone.

He missed Ed. He was scared for him. He wanted him back.

But he was gone, and... and Roy was really starting to be afraid he was never going to see him again.

He turned his head to the side, shivering and shaking in the restraints, forcing back that constant, lump in his throat again, and tried not to give into the drugs and dry sob into the pillow.

Perhaps the one upside of being a mental patient was the next morning, far over twelve hours after he'd been bound, all it took was one weakly mumbled assurance that he was fine to get the nurses to untie him, and again leave him alone.

Alone, again.

The will to fight had drained out of him, and all that was left behind was the empty helplessness of defeat.

He didn't know what they were doing to Ed. He didn't know how to help him. He couldn't even help himself.

There was nothing he could do.

The only reason he even managed to drag himself up at all was the memory of the notes he'd left behind out there; the notes Ed had been the one to draw, the notes that were all he had to prove to himself that Ed was even real. He was still far too miserable and in pain to want to do anything more than lie in bed for the rest of the day curled around the bundle of blankets and try not think about who he was missing- but he couldn't leave Ed's hard work abandoned.

That was all he had anymore.

So he dragged himself up, his sore, drugged, miserable body screaming at him with every step, rubbing his chafed wrists as he stumbled out into the hallway. He forced himself step by step onwards, feeling as if the misery weighed him down even more than the pain and medication, lifting his head up reluctantly as he stepped around the corner to try and figure out how to face the day when he'd already lost all strength and motivation to care.

Roy stopped dead.

"E... Ed?"

There he was.

Right there.

Ed.

Roy gaped.

Slowly, his feet moved another step forward, almost falling, and this time it was only half the drugs, half the shock, It was too surreal, too sudden, too out of place to ever be believed. It felt like he was flying and falling all at once. It wasn't even possible.

But- but there he was. Right there.

Like he'd never even left.

Right there. Ed- Ed!

Just- sitting curled in his wheelchair, leg pulled to his chest and arm around it and head down, back to the room and body pressed to the wheelchair as if desperate to hide or get away. His long hair, even messier than before, spilled down his back and hid most of him from view, leaving just an unmoving, tiny lump huddled up in the chair-

But there he was.

Roy rubbed his eyes, blinking furiously in disbelief. Half of him fully believed it was just another desperate hallucination brought on by the drugs, because this- it just couldn't be! Ed was there. Here? Ed was back? After everything? Just sitting there in the middle of the room in his wheelchair like he'd never even left?! It was-

"ED!" he cried, and shot forward like a bullet out of a gun.

He lunged forward to land right before him, just close enough to touch and wasted no time in reaching out, wrapping a shaking hand around the shoulders and gasping and trembling with sheer relief, smile wavering and cheeks almost wet with disbelief. "Ed! My god, Ed- you're okay! Ed! Oh, god, I was so worried about you, Ed," he shook him again, laughing and half sobbing-

But Ed didn't move.

Didn't even try to answer him.

"Ed," he gasped, still hiccuping with near hysteria, "oh my god, I'm so glad you're okay, you had me scared to death, you overconfident-... Ed...?"

Ed didn't move or say a single word in response.

So much like a still, unmoving corpse, that he was closer to dead than alive.

Roy's stomach dropped, and his heart, until now ecstatic and swelled to twice its size and jumping with joy, cracked.

Something was very wrong.

"...Ed...?" he mumbled hoarsely, lost and unsure, not as terrified as before yet but he could already feel it growing in the shaking of his hands. "Ed? H-hey... are you okay? Ed?"

Nothing.

"Ed?" he called again, voice hoarse and cracking from the screams of the night before. "Ed?" He moved unsteadily forwards again, something desperate in him begging him closer but too afraid to move him more. "It's just me, the nurses, they're gone now, okay? It's just me..."

But Ed didn't say anything. He didn't even move.

"Ed..." he begged, gasping. He hesitantly touched his shoulder again, eyes widening when he didn't even flinch, heart aching in horror with every second that stretched on and he just didn't move. No, god, oh, god, no, "Ed, please..."

He wasn't moving. God, why wasn't he moving? What was wrong with him? What had they done to him? "Ed, please look at me; please talk to me," but it was as if Ed didn't even know he was there. His body was present but his mind was gone- "What did they do to you? Oh, god, what did they do?"

His mind just wasn't there. Ed just sat there all huddled up, head down and back to him and the room and the world, and even though Roy had been with the kid for weeks in a psych ward this moment right here was the first time Roy had ever looked at him and not thought he was sane. Something was wrong with him. Those nurses had done something to him, something horrible, they'd made Ed like this- he'd been fucking fine until those nurses had gotten their hands on him, they'd made him sick, they'd done this to him- oh, god, it had been weeks since Roy had been able to see him and to finally get him back like this, broken-

"Ed, Ed, please," he begged again, sick at heart as he again touched his shoulder, trying to coax him around to face him. "Just say something. Oh, god... Ed, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't believe you about this place, you were right about everything," and even if Roy didn't remember past a month before he knew he'd never been more honest in his life, "just, please... please, don't let them win now, Ed, come on..." He pulled harder, just managing to get the withdrawn form turned around to face him but Ed's head was still down, face still hidden and shielded by his hair.

What had they done to him?

"Ed... please, please just say something to me. Please- Fullmetal, I can't, p-"

He jerked to a stop.

...Fullmetal?

Roy stared blankly at the huddled form before him, mouth abruptly dry and words gone.

What had he just said?

"Full..." he started hesitantly again, eyes wide- then jolted, when he realized he was not the only one to have heard the odd word.

Ed had stiffened.

For several seconds, the kid held absolutely, perfectly still. Roy held his breath, panic racing in his chest, for the first time given a chance to hope...

And then, finally, Ed's eyes met his own.

It was just barely, two hesitant, dilated eyes lifting jerkily even as his head stayed down, locking nervously on his to blink at him in fear. "...S-say..." he rasped, and Roy's heart leapt just to hear his voice, "say that again."

Roy swallowed. "Fullmetal," he said again, tasting the strange, unfamiliar word in his mouth, rolling it around his tongue; nothing about it made sense at all but at the same time...

I know it... don't I.

I know it.

Ed stared for several long moments, implacable and blank, wild eyes wide, hand clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He looked just as lost and stricken as Roy did-

But for the first time, he was conscious and aware.

Roy's heart leapt again.

And then, Ed's face crumpled.

"R-Roy," he sobbed, the word broken into anguish, then with no further warning, threw himself into Roy's arms.