Thank you guys all so much for reviewing! Also, we have now reached the point where my prewritten material has run out, because I suck, so this is the last chapter I have written. I'm still hoping to keep to my update schedule (this has happened before in the past and I've still managed to) but there's a bit of a higher chance chapters might be delayed in the future. Sorry about that :/

The days from there, contrary to how Maes had hoped, did not go well.

Ed- and this was only if they were being optimistic about it, fell prey to an infection after all. The doctor assured them it was all but expected, that they'd caught it in time and not to be worried. Maes, of course, was not the only one worried half to death by the development- but there were upsides to it, too, as reluctant as he was to acknowledge them.

Ed was… not totally incoherent, at least. Delirious? Perhaps. Like himself? Absolutely not. They hadn't had to restrain him, like Roy, but that wasn't necessarily a good sign- Ed wasn't fighting them, but he wasn't welcoming their presence, either, or any more accepting of what was going on than Roy was.

He wouldn't talk to them. He'd barely even look at them. He usually just lay there on his stomach, curled up and shivering in pain, head turned away from them and expression shrouded with such defeat Maes could barely stand to look. He, like Roy, wouldn't respond to their attempts to talk to him… but unlike Roy, would flinch away so badly whenever anyone tried to touch him that they'd stopped trying.

He was feverish now, and heavily medicated… though the drugs had done very little to calm him down. It seemed, however, that the severity of his burns, the infection, and the medication he was on had been enough to sideline him while Roy was still up and kicking- figuratively speaking- but even through all of this, they'd been able to talk to the kid enough to realize one thing.

He didn't remember them, either.

Ed didn't have the slightest clue who they were.

Roy, too, had made no progress on that front. And Roy was on as few drugs as the doctors dared; just a prophylactic to protect against infection and a light painkiller, as close to lucid as they could've hoped for- and remembered them as well as Ed did. That was to say, not at all.

By this point, they had no idea what to think.

A blow to the head? Pretty unlikely, if both Ed and Roy remembered nothing about who they were. The drugs they'd been on, wherever they'd been held captive before it? Unlikely, too; Maes knew some substances could blur recollection, destroy short term memory- but again, for both Ed and Roy to remember nothing at all? He'd never heard of anything like it, and the doctor, when they asked him, hadn't either.

Maes' only guess, at this point, was some form of alchemy.

The rest of the team agreed with him as the most likely outcome; even Falman, with his near encyclopedic knowledge of, well, everything, agreed that that was the only explanation that even sounded plausible. It was also the answer Maes was desperately hoping for- after all, if there was an array that inflict this damage on them- well, then there also had to be an array that could undo it.

The problem was, the only members of the team who knew enough about alchemy to be of any help were Ed, Al, and Roy.

They hadn't been able to even get in contact with Al thus far, and Ed and Roy weren't talking.

Maes sighed heavily, leaning exhaustedly against the wall as he started stirring his cup of hospital coffee. What another miserable, hopeless day.

He saw Hawkeye approaching out of the corner of his eye, looking just as sleep-deprived, low down, and downright unhappy as he was. He raised his cup at her in greeting anyway, giving her a small, weak sort of grimace of a smile. "Morning," he said, and wasn't entirely surprised when she managed little more than a wordless murmur in response. "Sleep well?"

"Hardly, sir."

"Right," he sighed, what little bits of a smile that he'd managed to piece together falling. "Can't say I'm doing any better, honestly. One more day of this, I suppose…"

Hawkeye nodded stoically back, all but expressionless- but he saw the flicker in her eyes, all the same, and knew she was just as affected as he was.

This was set to be the last day in the hospital for them, one way or the other. They were both still badly injured, Ed still sick, Roy's wet coughs were only getting worse by the hour- but it was to the point Maes didn't think they had another choice.

Being in this hospital was making them worse. Both of them. If there was any hope for getting Ed and Roy to trust them, it was fast dwindling, and the only way Maes could see to change that was to either get Al down here and figure out how to do something about their memories, or to get them both out of here now. The second choice was the only option they had.

"You have everything set up, then, sir?"

He nodded to her again, glancing listlessly back down at his coffee. "I confirmed everything early this morning." So early, in fact, most of the city had still been asleep, and he'd desperately wanted to be, too- but that was neither here nor there, at this point. "A private ambulance company will take care of the transport a bit before midnight tonight; one of us will be able to ride along with each of them. Madam Christmas'll be ready and waiting, and Knox has… reluctantly agreed… to lend us his services for as long as Ed and Roy need them." Roy's foster mother, of course, had been more than willing to keep the two alchemists safely hidden in her bar; Knox had been a bit less enthusiastic but, in the end, had been convinced- or coerced. "As for the military, considering the current circumstances, I think we're going to have to report to somebody soon. Grumman, maybe. I know we can't be sure none of the higher ups are involved, but…"

Hawkeye nodded grimly, casting a surreptitious glance around the all but deserted hall in a move that looked closer to paranoia than righteous suspicion. "I'm not really concerned with the military at the moment, sir. General Hakuro can throw a fit all day long if he wants; neither one of them is is any shape to be fighting right now, or going anywhere but Madam Christmas' bar."

"If they even can," Maes pointed out sadly, although couldn't help but agree with her; the military was just going to have to throw all their bitch fits at him, because Ed and Roy weren't going anywhere near them. "I'm not saying Ed doesn't terrify me regardless, but isn't his alchemy sort've… contingent, on having his automail? And Roy- well, I don't know how alchemy works, but if he- if he doesn't remember anything about his array, can he even use it? I don't know…" He scratched uncomfortably at the back of his neck, staring back down into his coffee. "I'm just hope we've managed to make some progress with them before a meeting with Hakuro is staring us in our faces."

Hawkeye answered him with another silent nod, tense gaze still darting around the hallway suspiciously and making it appear as if she was only half-listening. It was hard for Maes to really be offended. After all, she was just as exhausted and strained as he was- and had the added burden of running the security detail. Not to mention, in the absence of her superior officer, or, at least, one with a sound mind or body, she had taken command of the rest of Roy's staff… it had to be a lot to take in.

Speaking of which…

"Have you talked to Roy yet?"

He already knew the answer. And even if he hadn't, the reflexive, quiet shadow that swept across her strained features confirmed it for him- and even then, as unnecessary as it was, she still shook her head. Eyes averted down to the floor, hands clenching uncharacteristically tight, a wave of something almost like guilt darkening her eyes again…

He'd have felt worse for bringing it up, if he hadn't already known it was necessary.

"It'll be easier at his aunt's place, I think," he said sympathetically. "Maybe he'll give us a chance there, don't you think?"

"Yes, sir," she murmured- but he could hear in her voice, that she still did not believe him.

Hawkeye, so far, had not stepped inside Roy's room even once.

It was a delicate situation. At first, Maes hadn't even noticed; with Hawkeye running the security detail, it wasn't as if she'd spent much time nervously fidgeting outside Roy's room but not stepping inside. But then one day had passed, and then another, and then he'd realized- and then, he'd understood.

She was avoiding him.

Roy, still in pain, tied down, and scared of them all- Roy, still looking at Maes like he was a criminal, with anger and hate in his eyes…

Hawkeye just didn't want to see him like that.

Maes, after spending so many endless hours in that claustrophobic room, wincing with every venomous glare Roy turned in his direction, couldn't blame her. And it had to be even worse for her. He was Roy's best friend- but she was his bodyguard. She was supposed to make sure nothing like this ever happened to him. Maes didn't blame her for any of this, of course, but- he could only imagine how much she blamed herself.

"Don't worry," he assured her gently, and with far more warm confidence than he could really feel. "Once Al gets back, I'm sure we'll be able to figure something out. They won't be like this forever. We'll take care of them."

"Yes, sir," she said again, even more quietly than before- and it was only because he knew her as well as he did that he heard the tiny waver of fear, lurking just behind the words.

She was just as scared as he was. And he couldn't blame her one bit for it.

When Ed was finally awake enough to be called coherent, it was, as they'd all expected, not something that brought good news.

Jean wasn't surprised.

He'd been Ed's bodyguard the past three days, trading off with Breda during the day to either stand guard in the hallway or in the room right beside him, or with two members of Hughes' staff during the night. He'd tried to be optimistic, for everyone else's sakes- but he'd heard how depressingly badly Mustang was doing, and he'd seen Ed with his own two eyes as he recovered- so he'd lost any chance for high hopes a long time ago.

Sure enough, that third day, what Hughes had ordered would be the last day in the hospital, Jean started his shift and walked in to Ed, as usual, curled away from him and face hidden in his one arm. He was on his stomach, also as usual; small mercies, he supposed- but at least he was aware enough to try and keep off the burns on his back.

The same couldn't be said for the colonel. From what he'd heard, he was pulling so hard at the restraints the doctors were worried the'd wind up needing to reset his already broken arm.

"Hey, Ed," he said brightly upon entering, the same as he had every day. He started to sit down hesitantly, slinging his jacket off his shoulders around the back of the chair as he watched Ed, hoping for some sign he was being listened to, or at least acknowledged. "It's me, again. Havoc."

Ed whimpered something softly into the bed, curling a little more away. He hid his face again, burying it in his hair, and Jean's breath caught painfully.

"…so," he went on, pushing the chair a little closer to the bed. He wasn't sure how much progress he was going to make on this point, but he at least wanted to try. "Ed, remember how we told you we were going to try and get you out of the hospital as soon as we could?"

No answer. Unless the second muffled whimper counted as a response.

"R- right," he sighed. "Well… we're doing that. Today."

Still, nothing.

Jean grimaced, narrowing his eyes as he glanced up and down Ed's suspiciously still form. It wasn't that he'd really hoped this would make much progress- but, telling him what was going on, whether or not he showed any sign of listening… that had to help, right? Surely nobody would've bothered to tell him what was going on before. At the very least, it couldn't hurt.

Well, that was what he'd been going for, here. That didn't mean it was actually going to work.

He signed, sitting back unhappily in the uncomfortable chair, fingering at an unlit cigarette. Making conversation, as he'd learned just on the first day, was pretty much doomed to be a failed effort. Sometimes, when he'd been drugged and feverish and ill, Ed would say things, but never in a manner that would've supported a two-way conversation. Muttering in his sleep, more like it, mostly his brother's name and Roy's, over and over, but when Jean would try to talk to him, he never got an answer back.

Sometimes, it was soft, plaintive pleas. Murmurs begging to not be touched. Whimpers, for them to stay away.

Jean's heart clenched at the mere memory, and he sank back into the chair again, staring down at Ed and trying to keep his breaths calm.

Those moments, however lucky or not, were rare. In Ed's more lucid moments, the few times Jean had managed to catch him both awake and coherent, he wouldn't say anything at all.

Just curl up on his stomach, pulled away from them all, and hide his face in his arm.

He sighed, looking down at the increasingly familiar, increasingly horrible sight, and just hoped things would look up tomorrow.

Jean had gotten pretty familiar with the hospital's schedule, by this point; his shift started with an hour of nothing, just sitting in Ed's room to watch him, drink coffee, and guard him against nothing more than ghosts. That hour then led into the morning nurse coming in to check on Ed and clean the burns, a procedure which seemed to go badly regardless of whether Ed was coherent or not, a procedure that Jean had grown to dread, the more experience he'd gotten watching it.

So when that morning's nurse headed into the room after being screened by Breda, the apprehension already settling in his stomach hardened into a leaden ball.

They shared an uneasy smile, both of them knowing what was coming now and neither looking forward to it in the slightest. "Good morning, Lieutenant," she said, glancing uncertainly down at Ed as if something might've changed, since the last time she'd seen him; of course, there was no change at all, and hesitation flickered in her eyes again. "How is he?"

"Same," Jean sighed heavily, pushing upright to move out of her way. "Don't think he's said anything all day."

The nurse nodded reluctantly, not looking very surprised. She moved closer to Ed, this time not even trying to talk to him as she carefully moved the hospital shirt out of the way- seemed she'd all but given up on getting her patient to talk to her. Jean couldn't say he blamed her, after everything he'd seen from Ed, these past few days. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he was starting to lose hope, too.

He shifted uncomfortably, averting his gaze as she worked. He'd never felt comfortable at this part, standing there to the side to stare down at Ed's bare back… or what was left of it… would've been so much more at ease awkwardly excusing himself to let him keep the embarrassing medical exam private- but he wasn't just here was a friend, he was here to protect Ed. Leaving the room was out of the question.

So Jean had to stand there, sure of himself and steady, and watch as Ed slowly broke down.

He flinched the second the gloved hands touched gently at his back, clearly unable to ignore the pain no matter how hard he was trying to block them out. Jean tried not to look at what the nurse was doing, instead focusing on Ed as he tensed and whimpered at the burns being touched. At first he thought it was just the physical pain, which had to be nearly excruciating- but then…

"No," Ed whispered. "No… please…" He flinched further away from the nurse, not badly enough to disrupt her work, but it was bad enough. "P-please…" One shaking arm slipped away, falling to curl around the bedrail and grip it tight, fingers clinging to the metal as he begged again, pleading under his breath to just be left alone. "Please, stop…"

Jean's eyes widened.

He was trying to stop the nurse from taking him away.

He'd given up fighting back and was instead just clinging to the hospital bed, clutching himself to the bedrail in a last ditch effort to not be pulled away from what was probably the only thing in the room he still knew.

Jean gritted his teeth, thinking back to the way the colonel had quit even trying to fight them entirely.

This was a lot worse than they'd ever imagined.

Before he really knew what he was doing, definitely before he'd thought about it, Jean swung around to crouch down by his head, trying to meet his eyes even though Ed was desperately trying not to look at him. "Hey, listen to me," he pleaded, no matter how sure he was Ed was desperately trying not to hear him, either. "I know it hurts, but we're just trying to help you, okay? She'll be done in a few minutes. She's not going to do anything to you, Ed, come on, just try and calm down…"

But Ed wouldn't even look at him.

"Leave me alone," he all but whimpered. The nurse must've made some sort of move he didn't like because next second, he'd pulled himself against the bedrail even tighter and shook his head violently, tossing his long hair out just enough to hide his face in it. "Leave me alone, please… d-don't- don't make me go back there… don't… don't…"

"We won't, remember? We're getting you out of the hospital tonight, Ed, promise, we'll-"

"Roy…"

"W… what?" he asked unsteadily, mouth dry. "Roy's- he's fine-"

"R- Roy," Ed whimpered again. "I- I w-want- Roy…"

Jean froze again.

"We'll… we'll get him to you, Ed," he managed after several months, torn. Hughes' orders weighed heavily on his mind, that Mustang was not allowed out of his room both for his own safety and for the safety of the hospital staff- but did that apply to Ed? He hadn't been coherent enough thus far for Jean, at least, to feel okay about just stuffing Ed into a wheelchair and shepherding him a few rooms down… but here he was, outright asking for the colonel. That had to mean something! "Remember, we're taking you somewhere else tonight; you'll see him then! You'll-"

"Please don't hurt him," Ed abruptly begged, shuddering at the further touches on his back but his eyes were open again, and Jean's breath caught when he realized Ed was actually looking right at him and speaking to him for the first time in days. "It was- it was my fault, I m-made him do this, I made him run… don't hurt him, please…"

"He's- he's not hurt, Ed," he stumbled, because that was a flat out lie, but he just didn't know how else to get through to him. "Mustang's fine, you'll see, okay? He's-"

"D-don't- send me b-back there- I- I-" The words dissolved into another broken gasp, his hand still clutched around the bedrail though but he continued to make no attempt to actually fight back or pull away, still just looking at Jean with this horrible mix of fear but vulnerability in his eyes. "I- just d-don't hurt Roy, please, it wasn't his fault, but I- I don't want to g-go back there-"

Jean crouched there anxiously, hands suddenly clammy as his mind raced. How on earth was he supposed to try and calm him down? Ed, he realized, was talking to him, trying to plead this with him- not just because he was scared or in pain, but because he honestly thought Jean was in control here. He thought he was one his captors, or, at the very least, did not realize or believe he was only here to help him.

And if that was the case, it meant two things.

The first? Ed absolutely did not remember him.

The second?

There was nothing Jean could try and say that would help. Nothing he said would get through to him, just based off the simple fact that Ed was trying to bargain or beg something from his captor, and that wasn't who Jean was.

The nurse finally left, finishing up just like she always did and pulling away from them without another word, seeming slightly uncomfortable by the situation and just wanting to remove herself from it as quickly as possible. Jean was grateful, to some degree; cleaning the burns had to have hurt, and besides, medical staff seemed to put Ed on edge, which was the last thing they needed now- but Ed didn't seem to relax even now that she'd gone. He just kept staring up at Jean with wide, stricken eyes, his words near incoherent now, just wanting the colonel, not wanting to go back there- wherever there was- and Jean had no idea what to say to him. If Hughes, the Colonel's best friend, hadn't been able to make any progress so far- what hope did Jean have with Ed? Ed, who seemed to be in far worse condition than Mustang, by this point…

Should he speak to Hughes about this? See if he could get Ed down to see the Colonel? He understood Mustang being kept in his room, but Ed had not yet shown any reason to be under the same restriction, and it could only help, couldn't it? But, Ed was still badly hurt… not to the point that Jean doubted their ability to keep him safe, just moving him a few rooms down- but, fact was, Ed was probably primed to be as openly hostile to them as Mustang already was. There was no guarantee Ed would remain as docile as he was.

But, hell, they were going to have to let them see each other sometime…

"Ed, listen to me," he started to plead again, reaching a hesitant hand forward. "Mustang- Roy's fine, okay? And so are you. Just give it a few more hours, all right, and I'll try and get you over to see him. I promise, we don't want to hurt you, here…"

But Ed just stared at him as if he didn't understand his words- just couldn't conceptualize the idea of him actually wanting to help him. He continued to clutch onto the bedrail as if his life depended on it, he kept on shivering, and-

And there just wasn't anything Jean could do.

The door to Ed's room opened again, this time not for a nurse but for Falman. Who, admittedly, looked just as uncomfortable to be in here as the nurse had. Sighing, Jean pushed himself to his feet, giving him an unhappy look as he moved a few steps away from Ed; maybe with the attention turned off him, he'd be able to calm down a little. "What's up?"

Falman grimaced awkwardly, seeming torn between looking at him or down at the trembling, stricken alchemist in between them. "It's Fuery. He finally managed to locate Alphonse… waiting on the phone in the hallway right now. Should we… er…"

Jean's hopes fell even further, his stomach dropping.

The plan- the initial plan, anyway- had been for them to get in contact with Al, then just pass the phone straight over to Ed, the way they'd known both brothers would want. Of course, that plan had been made before they'd realized the real gravity of the situation, and that not only would Ed be unable to recognize Al, but Al, too, would end up being hurt far more than necessary. It had taken them this long to finally manage to get a phone call through to Al in the first place- wouldn't it just be kinder to tell Al his brother was asleep for now, let him get to Central before they dropped the horrible reality down on him?

Whatever they were going to tell Al, it was obvious their original hopes of allowing the brothers to talk to each other were dashed.

"Just… just tell him we'll see him soon," Jean sighed, all but defeated. "Don't tell Al about… about…" How bad it's gotten. "…you know."

Falman sighed too, giving him a grim nod back. "Right away," he murmured, taking a step back. He didn't look surprised by the answer, just disappointed- and Jean couldn't blame him.

Falman took another step back towards the door, already starting to avert his eyes, and Jean moved to sit down as well, shoulders slumping as he curled his hands loosely together in his lap-

Only to see Ed, looking up at them with wide, shocked eyes, his messy hair pushed away from his face as his gaze moved between them- and for the first time, Jean could see something there that wasn't open hostility or terror.

"Did…" He stopped, voice wavering, throat jumping, and curled up just a little more, pulling back away from them but still staring up at them in something near wonderment. "Did you s-say… Al?"

Jean blinked. He stared down at Ed, taken aback by look in his eyes, then glanced over at Falman only to see him looking just as surprised as he felt.

"Do you know who Al is?" Ed asked, speaking up again in a voice that was almost smaller than before. "H-he's… you said…" He turned to Falman, clutching miserably at the blankets. "You said he's on the phone?"

Jean and Falman stared blankly at each other again.

"Y- yeah," Jean finally got himself to stammer, sinking carefully down onto the edge of the hospital bed to try and look him a little more in the eyes. He hesitated, unsure of what to say. "Do you… want to talk to him?"

Did this mean Ed remembered Al?!

Ed hesitated again, looking between the both of them with those horrified eyes still, the fear on his face all but unrecognizable in the confident, powerful teen Jean had once known; even then he squirmed back another inch, looking just like he wanted to be further away from them. "I… Al's…" he mumbled, more to himself than them. "I- can I? If- don't hurt Roy, if you'll hurt him for it then no, leave him alone, but… Al?" He leaned desperately, eyes widening as if he might be able to see Al behind Falman if he looked close enough, then jerked back around to stare at Jean.

"Can I see Al?" he asked desperately again, and the look in his eyes made the decision for him.

"Falman, tell Fuery to hold that phone call."

The warrant officer hesitated in the doorway, even as he stepped backwards to comply. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes said-"

"Hughes has been so busy with Mustang he hasn't had time to really evaluate Ed. Besides, the situation's changed." He paused, glancing tersely over Ed's bandaged form as he swung around the bed, heading for the wheelchair the nurses had left in the room, just because. Just because, what; he'd had no idea until now, but Ed hadn't been going anywhere until now- and now, he was. "Here, Ed," he rushed, hurrying back over to him and holding a hand out.

Ed balked.

Again.

He reeled backwards, swaying in his already slumped position and suddenly shivering worse, near panicked gaze locking first on the wheelchair, then sweeping back to Jean. His hand clenched back in the blankets, his feverish features going the color of sour milk, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to throw up.

"…Ed?" Jean asked worriedly, hand still held out.

He flinched backwards again, mouth opening and closing spasmodically, saying nothing.

Then, after several unexplained, impossible moments, Ed started to crawl forward to swing himself into the chair.

He completely rejected Jean's outstretched hand, which didn't go unnoticed, but Jean honestly wasn't too surprised. He also noticed, however, the fact that the kid was shivering even worse than before, flinching like even touching the chair hurt and in ways that Jean seriously doubted had anything to do with the burns, and when he finally settled, it was in such a small, withdrawn, defeated slump he looked like he wanted to just crawl into a hole and die.

Jean swallowed uncomfortably, sharing another worried look with Falman.

It wasn't that Ed had ever really been a big fan of wheelchairs, granted… if anyone could ever be called that… but this was a bit over the line, wasn't it?

Hell, Ed was now shaking so hard Jean was a bit worried he was going to wind up hurting himself.

But it was a bit too late to backtrack now.

Jean got behind the wheelchair, pushing as quickly as he could without risking Ed getting toppled down onto the floor. Falman led the way into the hallway, but it wasn't necessary; the instant they stepped outside he saw Fuery waiting down the hall where he'd commandeered the hospital phone, standing there anxiously and clenching the cord in his hands. His eyes widened when he saw the two of them; Jean found himself unable to do more than give him a guardedly hopeful look as he hurried Ed forward, taking him over to the pay phone to wait, and hope.

Ed, for several seconds, did nothing. Just stared at the phone with such a look of trepidation it was as if he expected it to grow teeth and bite him.

But then, trembling, anxious, and obviously near terrified, Ed reached an uncertain hand out, and pulled the phone over to his ear.

"H… hello?" he rasped weakly.

Al's scream of BROTHER! was so loud, every gathered member of Mustang's staff heard it, and poor Ed looked like he'd just been punched across the face.

Al went on, then; Jean couldn't hear the words anymore, just frantic, high-pitched babbling cracking over the phone lines and into Ed's ear, but the specifics didn't matter. He glanced over at the rest of the team- even Breda had wondered over now- and shared a weak smile with them all before looking back down at Ed, who was sitting there with his brother shouting in his ears and looking so shellshocked he didn't know what to do with himself. But he didn't look terrified anymore, or nervous about the wheelchair or the hospital… he just sat there, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and listening to Al yell at him.

It took a minute, perhaps, for Al's ranting to finally calm, perhaps the equivalent of Al taking a break for air- and when he did, that was when Ed finally spoke.

"Y-you're…" He stopped, trembling harder, mouth quivering and voice nearly breaking. "You're… my- brother." He stopped again, eyes widening. "I have a brother."

Then, phone still clutched to his face, breaths still broken, the shock in his melted into what Jean could only constitute as relief- and Ed all but burst into tears, right there in the middle of the hallway.

As usual, Roy found his cell of a hospital room to be dominated by an uncomfortable silence.

Roy continued to glare furiously out the window, refusing to say a word or even look at the man sitting by his side. It was Maes, again- or at least, that was what he called himself. Roy still doubted even that much was true. Whatever his name, Roy didn't like him. He was constantly talking. Constantly trying to convince him to let his guard down. Begging him to just stop fighting them (behave), promising they'd take the restraints off, swearing he was safe...

Safe.

Ha.

He'd let them right back into the lion's den, going to that bastard's home.

Safe.

Maes had been talking to him earlier today, again. This time the message had differed from the normal; this time, Maes had told him that they were going to move him and Ed tonight. They were going to be taken out of the hospital, and brought somewhere he called safe. Maes promised he would see Ed then.

Roy wasn't sure what was really going on; only that it was nothing good and he should be scared of it. But if it got him closer to Ed, he was just going to keep his mouth shut. This had been an easy couple of days, granted… they'd never tried to force him to use that array then beat the tar out of him when he couldn't. They'd never half-drowned him and laughed at him while he suffocated. They'd never done anything, really, besides just leave him restrained to the bed and tend to the burns- Roy figured that was the main reason for the change in treatment. The burns. They'd needed to take care of him and Ed for once, make sure they didn't die before returning to abusing them.

He didn't really give a damn what their reasoning was, at this point.

He was getting Ed and getting the hell out of here at the first opportunity, and if this Maes kept standing in his way, he'd take care of him the way he'd taken care of everyone else.

Another hot burst of pain burned into his back and Roy choked back a gasp, tensing and gritting his teeth to keep silent. He glared reflexively at Maes because the nurse, silently cleaning at the burns on his back, wasn't an option; Maes, as he was growing very used to, just sat there uncomfortably, looking as if he'd give about anything to not be in the room at this moment.

His back hurt constantly. His hands hurt constantly, too. His chest hurt with every labored breath. It was all still so much easier than it had been; for the first time in weeks he'd actually been given the chance to heal, it felt so much better now- but Roy knew getting used to it was dangerous. He knew it was set to get worse any day now, as tired of this as he was, no matter that he was just too exhausted to take anymore, no matter how much he just wanted to- to go home-

He didn't have a choice.

He had to keep fighting.

The nurse at his back moved around him again, this time moving to refill the medication drip pouring into his arm. Roy couldn't help but flinch back again, stomach squirming sickeningly, entire body jolting with revulsion.

He was so tired of being drugged against his will.

"…What are you giving him?"

Roy flinched again, his eyes jerking back up to look at Maes.

Maes was watching the nurse, not him, something unhappy or reluctant in his glasses, not even meeting his eyes. The nurse paused, too; Roy couldn't twist enough to look at her without making a fool of himself, and his pride was about all he had anymore now that Ed was taken away from him, so he held perfectly still, waiting with anxiously bated breath for the answer.

"Just- just some painkillers and an antibiotic, sir," she said after a moment, clearly ill at ease. "We're upping his painkillers, a little. The pneumonia's getting worse."

Roy scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes. Maybe you should've thought of that before you drowned me, assholes, he remarked inwardly, every bit of him aching with revulsion and disgust and anger, but he kept his mouth shut and just continued to glare.

Maes paused, grimacing slightly like he'd just eaten something distinctly unpleasant. He looked back at Roy, meeting his eyes again before faltering, shrinking slightly in his seat and hands twitching in his lap. "Roy, it's to help you. Really, it is. You're sick; it's just medicine, Roy…"

"I don't want your damn medicine," he finally spat, voice barely a guttural growl from disuse as he tensed again, curling his fists and ready to fight against the restraints. "Did we not make that clear enough by now? Shove it down your own throats."

Maes, if possible, just looked more pained than before. Not angry at him, or annoyed, or that subtle glint of vile hatred he always glimpsed in the guards' eyes before a fist slammed into his skull or a hand shoved his face beneath the water. Just- just pained. Unhappy.

Sad.

"Can you…" Maes hesitated, clearing his throat, eyes darting between him and the nurse at his back. "Can you just give him the antibiotics, then?"

Both Roy and the nurse stopped.

His eyes widened.

Maes glanced back down to meet his eyes again, another saddened grimace pulling down at his mouth. "Look, you need the antibiotics. I'm sorry if you don't want to take them, Roy, but you have to. But you don't need the painkillers, and- and I'm guessing that you really don't want them. If you do, please just say so, but…" He shrugged miserably, averting his eyes again. "If you don't want something, then I don't want to force it on you. So if you don't want painkillers, I won't make you take them."

Roy stared in complete disbelief.

He… well, no. He didn't want painkillers. He didn't want any drugs at all, but those- well, he was pretty well used to the physical pain, by this point, and he was also used to being drugged, and he would take the pain any day of the week. At least he'd still have agency, then. At least he'd still be able to be cognizant and aware of what was happening to him. At least he'd still be himself.

He just didn't know what to do now that he was suddenly being offered it.

Why-

Why weren't they making him take them?

Why were they acting like he had a choice?

Because it didn't make any sense.

Why give him a choice now after everything else; why act like what he wanted mattered when they'd tied him down to a hospital bed and wouldn't let him see Ed? Why was that man trying to act like he was his friend?! He wasn't! He'd forced him and Ed back here to this hospital, it was his fault their one chance at freedom had failed, it was his fault he and Ed were going to die here, why the hell was he trying to lie and win him over now?! It was too late for that!

But Maes just kept staring at him, that sad light in his eyes never fading, and somehow, he looked even sadder when the nurse finally acquiesced and stepped away to leave him less drugged than before. That thing was still in his arm, pouring drugs into him, but if Maes was to be believed it was less medication than before, at least- hell; he probably wasn't to be believed, he probably was just lying to try and soften him up, force him to start trusting him- well, Roy wasn't going to buy it. These people had hurt Ed. These people had forced them back into this hospital. These people had had hurt them both.

He wouldn't believe this.

He- he couldn't let himself risk believing this.

Maes looked at him again when the nurse left the room, eyes intensely sad and reluctant. "That should be better, but… but please speak up if it gets to be too much, okay? I know you're stubborn, but you're hurt all over, Roy, and you shouldn't make yourself suffer just to prove a point."

Roy shook his head violently again, turning his gaze away and refusing to look at him even as his stomach churned. Suffer to prove a point? So not wanting to be drugged into oblivion now, drugged so heavily he couldn't remember his own name- that was just him wanting to prove a point now?!

Roy just wanted him to shut up, now. Just shut his mouth and stop talking and stop making him think and feel these things that he couldn't bear to face. But he wouldn't.

Maes just never stopped talking.

"Roy, please. You came to my house, you came to me asking me for help- you have to trust me, at least on some level! That means something, right? Why else would you have sought me out?!"

Roy's breath caught painfully again, eyes squeezing shut and bandaged hands clenching into bleeding fists. The words meant nothing. So- so he didn't have an answer. So he had no explanation, for why he'd gone to that man's house… because he'd thought at the time- god, he'd thought he was doing the right thing. He'd thought he was going somewhere safe.

Home.

But- no, it didn't matter what he'd thought! He'd thought it was safe, yes; he'd risked taking Ed there- and how had that ended up? Maes had forced them both back to this hospital. He'd taken Ed from him.

Roy didn't know how or why he'd found his way to that man's home, but it didn't matter. All he knew was that he was back in the hospital he'd risked everything to break out of, and Ed was gone.

That was all that mattered.

"Roy," Maes started quietly again, "please-"

The door to his room swung open, and Roy flinched. No matter how much he wanted to keep up his stubborn, unaffected facade, he couldn't help but turn his head, looking towards the sound and glaring even more when he saw the source. It was one of those others. The blond one. One of the guards that normally stood outside his room, but sometimes dragged himself in here, normally with an unlit cigarette and a sad, mournful sort of stare. Roy turned his head away again, as far as he could while still managing to keep the new threat in his line of sight.

"Sirs," the new one ventured hesitantly, subdued and quiet. He hung back by the door, seeming almost as if he was trying to avoid looking at him.

Maes sat up straighter, turning to stare at him. "Lieutenant, what are you doing here? I thought you were watching..." He trailed off with an uneasy glance in Roy's direction, not finishing his sentence.

Roy tensed, hands squeezing into fists so tight it hurt.

Fullmetal.

The man shrugged uneasily. "Yeah, I was, but then- it's complicated, I guess... he's doing better now, though. I'm not sure what happened, but he's a lot calmer. The Boss actually gave me a message, for the colonel here." He, too, glanced in Roy's direction, showcasing a weak little smile- one that died very quickly, when Roy still glared at the wall rather than at him. He wouldn't give his jailers even that respect.

When he wouldn't look at him, the lieutenant sighed, shoulders slumping. "Okay," he said quietly, quite plainly unhappy about it but at least not going to try to force him. "Colonel." He straightened, looking right at him. "Ed says to tell you, and I quote... 'it's okay. They're friends. Al is with them.'"

Roy froze.

...Al?

"What?"

The croaked gasp came from his throat before he could stop it, and he twisted to stare at the men before he could stop that, either, struck with such force he couldn't think. Al. Al.

Fullmetal's home. Fullmetal's family.

But if they knew about Al…

The lieutenant shifted a little under his sudden gaze, almost uncomfortable. "Yeah... Al." He bit his lip. "Ed thought it would mean something to you…"

If they knew about Al…

Suddenly Maes was there, leaning close to him with eyes almost overly bright and eager, pale hands shaking even as he clenched them in his lap. "Do you remember him, Roy? Al? Alphonse? Do you remember Al?" he pressed urgently, but Roy could barely hear him over the roar in his own head.

They were telling him about Al. Right now, to his face, telling him about Al, as if Ed was trying to pass the message to him. And his first reaction was to try and believe it was just fake, they were trying to trick him, but- why now? Three days after they'd ended up here? Why wait? Why wait so long to try and win him over; it should've been obvious from day one he didn't trust them, wouldn't believe their lies- why would they have waited so long to try and lie about this?

And…

And could they, have even lied about this?

They'd never said anything about Al before. Never once had any of the doctors and nurses said a single word about Al. In fact, it had always been the exact opposite; the hospital staff had told them both they'd had nobody. No friends, no loved ones, no family. The hospital had always told them that there was no one out there for them… Roy knew damn well they had never once said the name Al to them in the entirety of the months they'd been here.

He didn't even think they knew who Al was.

And if they didn't know who Al was… if that lieutenant in the doorway was telling him that Ed wanted him to know about Al, that Al was with him…

"Roy…?"

Roy found himself turning towards Maes by instinct alone, only to be stopped flat by the look on his face. That look on his face... that bright, desperate, painful sort of a smile; that glimmer of anguished hope in his eyes... not the pitying, superior sighs of the nurses. Not the laughter of the guards. Not that black, cruel smirk of the doctor... not oh, no, there's no Al. There's no Hawkeye. You're crazy, you're crazy you're crazy...

Because this Maes had always been trying to get him to remember, not to forget.

"Roy?" Maes prodded again, his hands still shaking.

He looked honestly, truly happy for him.

"...I..." he started weakly, still frozen and trapped and terrified and unsure of what to say.

Then, he realized.

"...You're wearing blue."

Maes and the lieutenant both hesitated. The desperately hopeful smile slipped a little, draining into unsure confusion. "...Yeah," Maes hedged after a moment, still watching him again; he tugged a little at his sleeve. His vibrantly, wondrously, beautiful blue sleeve. The man must've caught him staring, because a moment later he hesitantly raised his arm just within Roy's reach, and, like a baby bird stumbling out of its nest for the first time, his fingers went towards it.

It was warm and scratchy and worn. Blue. Wool. Blue. Rough. Blue. Blue, blue, blue. It was so real under his fingertips, so real his heart stopped, then started to pound his chest, desperately egging his fingers on to search. "It's our uniform," he heard Maes whisper, but in that moment all that existed was that beautiful sleeve.

It was blue, and it was real.

"...You're wearing blue," was all he could choke out, and Roy let his head fall back, eyes squeezing shut.

He couldn't let go of the sleeve.

It was very still and very quiet in the room, Maes and the lieutenant surely waiting for him to go on. But he couldn't. Maes and the lieutenant. His friends. His family. His home. His Al.

"...You don't, by any chance, know a Riza Hawkeye, do you?" he gasped finally, barely squeezing the question out through a painfully tight throat. His heart swelled almost to bursting, and for the first time in days, he started to smile.

Maes and the lieutenant's gasps were proof enough.

"I'll go get the doctor!" the lieutenant cried, dashing out of the room in an instant, but Maes, he stayed. Maes. I went to his home. I knew, I knew. Maes stayed, and his blueblueblue sleeve stayed right there, right in his hand, and for a moment, Roy wanted to never let go.

"Roy?" the man urged frantically, leaning even closer, pale and strained. "What is it? Do you remember something? Roy?"

He couldn't speak. His throat was closed with welling emotion, his chest too tight from heartbreak and agonized, breathless, tremendous relief. He just shut his eyes again, touching the blue sleeve, and found himself smiling until his cheeks split.

Very tentatively, almost as if asking for permission, he felt Maes' hand come to rest over his own. For a moment, it hurt so much he couldn't breathe. It was exquisite in its agony and he gasped with the force of it. Something warm and wet rolled down the side of his face and he didn't even care that he couldn't wipe it away. It was entirely too much. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to pass out, he wanted to dance, he wanted...

I did it.

We're home.

He still couldn't speak.

He could, however, turn his hand over and squeeze back.

I did it, Fullmetal.

Roy didn't really remember how the day went on after that.

Others came in and out quickly; another nurse, he thought one was a doctor, always asking him questions but the words just washed over his head. It was medical staff that he felt himself all but hardwired not to listen to, and with the drugs weighing down his head and clouding his judgment anyway; he couldn't listen to them.

All he stayed aware of was Maes.

They gave him more drugs, at some point; he wasn't sure what they were, antibiotics, probably- Maes had told him they were safe, though, and Roy was just too tired and worn out to resist. They'd exhausted him in a way he hadn't felt since when they'd first started sedating him, weighing his head back down to the hospital bed and making his limbs feel with lead- and he hated feeling so zoned out. Hated being unable to think clearly, to move with purpose, to really do anything at all besides just lay there and blink...

But, just this once, he could bear it.

He was safe here. And so was Ed.

Maes stayed with him. Roy was relatively sure the man had tried talking to him at first, but given up rather quickly when he'd not managed to get a response- satisfactory or otherwise. He had wasted no time in taking the restraints off even while against protests from the medical staff; had, in fact, moved so fast and rough it felt like his limbs were being ripped off, and not even trying to stop him as he stretched and curled up loosely in the sheets and found himself smiling so much it hurt-

But he'd stayed. He'd stayed.

And he'd left his arm on the bed... just within reach of Roy's.

His sleeve was blue. Roy couldn't let go of it.

His fingertips had gone numb at some point, but he continued to rub the wool cloth between his thumb and forefinger, marveling at it. The soft, warm wool, the perfect texture, the beautiful, beautiful blue. He smiled at it wonderingly, heart swelling with every second it stayed in his hands and didn't drift or dissolve away.

Home.

Home.

There was a bit of noise in the room, and Maes shifted around, but his sleeve stayed within his grasp and that was all Roy really cared about. He rubbed the beautiful blue again, smiling lazily into the pillow.

"Roy." Maes came back, leaning down close to him. His face was blurry, Roy choosing to focus on the sleeve over him. "Roy, can you hear me?"

"...mmm..." he forced out tiredly, gripping the sleeve a little tighter. Shh. Quiet. Don't talk... just stay.

The man sighed, but did not remove his arm from his fingers, and that was all that mattered. "Roy, it's late. I've got to go, but I'll be back in the morning, okay? Remember what I told you? We're moving you and Ed tonight out of here, to somewhere safe- with any luck you'll both sleep through it and things will be better tomorrow, okay? And- and for now, Hawkeye'll stay outside the door, so if you need anything she can get it for you. Al'll be on the phone with Ed as well, so you'll both be taken care of. That okay, Roy?"

He sighed, letting his eyes drift shut for a heartbeat. "...Mmm," he mumbled again, curling the cuff of the sleeve around his thumb. His heart swelled cheerfully again.

He thought it was a fond sigh, that he heard over his head. Then: "Good night, Roy. I'll see you tomorrow."

And then, the arm started to pull away.

Roy jerked, gripping it spasmodically. "No," he ground out, curling closer to it. He tugged violently, numb fingers shaking into a fist around it. "No." He pulled it closer to him, glaring dangerously to dissuade anyone from taking it away from him.

"Roy..." the man sighed sadly, trying to pull away again. "Just try to get some sleep, okay? It'll be morning before you know it. You'll be fine-"

"No. Mine." He gripped it even tighter. "Mine," he snapped, pulse quickening in nerves. It was his, wasn't it? Just like Al was Ed's... his home. It couldn't just leave. It was his! He turned his head a little, dragging it off the pillow to glare at the man trying to take it away. "Mine!"

Maes' blurry form hesitated, the look in his eyes one of the saddest Roy had ever seen. The look made him dislodge his fingers a little, heart falling. It… it wasn't his? It- it wasn't…

Not… his blue. It wasn't. It wasn't his, and... it was going to be taken away... it'd hurt less, somehow, he felt, if he let the man go, rather than try to hang on and have it ripped from his grasp, and he felt his hold begin to loosen all but against his will. "...Mine?" he whispered, miserable. His fingers still clutched a little onto the sleeve, unable to help himself.

Maes watched him for a moment longer, sad and indecisive again, appearing almost stricken. After a moment, he said, "Hold on a second," and turned away; Roy's fuzzed mind lost interest almost immediately, and he turned back towards the beautifully blue sleeve, drinking in what he could of it before it was taken away from him.

It could've been a second, could've been an hour. He was too tired to tell. But, when he'd almost forgotten about that sad, sad look, and the despairing grief that even if he'd found safety, it wasn't his home, his blue, he found himself enveloped in an armful of azure wool.

Roy rolled back a little, his eyes widening. He almost choked to see it all in his arms; so much of it, so much! And all his! It wasn't just a sleeve anymore, it was the whole jacket, and there was so much he didn't even know what to do with it all. There was so much- and it was all... his? Gasping, smile swallowing his whole face, he rolled up to dare to look at Maes. Maes, who now stood there sans jacket, wearing only a thin black T-shirt in its place. "M... mine?" he croaked, barely daring to hope.

Maes smirked. "For now, I guess it is." He patted his shoulder warmly, and made zero attempt to take the jacket away from him. "That's better, then?"

"...Mmm," was all he could say. This time, not for lack of strength, but now just the lump in his throat refused to let him say anything else. Shutting his eyes, he wrapped his arms around the still warm jacket and held it tightly against him, nuzzling his face into the collar. His. It was all blue and- and it was all his.

He heard Maes laugh, say something, but it was all lost to a blur of happiness. Sighing contentedly, Roy pressed it warmly against him, clutching the fabric into fists and feeling his heart swell. It was blue, and it was his. Safe. Safe. Home.

"Thank you," he breathed, burying his face against it again. "Thank you, Maes."