A/N: I'm baaack! So sorry about the long delay. But here at last is the next chapter and it's another angst-fest. Poor Edward...I think I broke him a little...

Anywho, thank you guys so much for the reviews and favs! Isis Ma'at, kuteluver, kagomeinu18, YAJJ, kushina410, Attackoneverything, darkraistlyn, SakuraNights01, and all the guest reviewers, you guys are awesome! Thank you for taking the time to leave a review. I appreciate each and every one!

Hope ya'll enjoy this chapter. :D

All mistakes are mine.

Edit: A/N 2: I forgot to mention this in the one-shot I posted "The Right Partner", but a fellow author, DragonRedfox posted a story that was virtually what I could imagine to be a sequel to my own story not long before I posted my own. It's a beautiful one shot about Roy and Riza and their last dance as suggested in the title: "Save the last dance for me". So if there are any readers who enjoyed my story, you can check under my favorites and find the link to DragonRedfox's one shot. Or if you just enjoy Roy and Riza, go check it out! :)

Chapter 5

Edward looked around in confusion. Where was he? Everything was a blur of color and shapes. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again, hoping everything would come into focus. It did.

He was on the floor of a small kitchen. Warm afternoon light streamed in from a large kitchen window over the sink. By the sink there was a small vase full of wild flowers. Glancing around, he found a sturdy wooden table and chairs and on the chair hung a white apron with floral stitching on the edges. Edward inhaled sharply. He knew that apron. Looking around again, he realized he knew the kitchen too. He was home, back in Resembool.

Climbing slowly to his feet, Edward looked around in amazement. The kitchen was clean and well used, just like he remembered. All that was missing was—

"Edward."

Mom.

Spinning around, Edward found his mother standing in the back kitchen door, a basket of laundry in her hand. Her light brown hair was loosely tied and resting on her shoulder, her purple dress rippling with the breeze behind her.

"Honey, what are you doing? I thought you and Al were playing with Winry."

It was her voice. Mom's voice. That soft, loving voice he'd never expected to hear again. But she couldn't be here, right? When he didn't answer, she frowned and came inside, setting her basket on the ground.

"Edward?"

He wanted it to be real. He wanted it to really be his mom. Was everything else just a horrible nightmare? Perhaps it was. And she really was here, alive and well.
"Mom?" He whispered, vision blurring.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?"

"Mom," he whispered again, a little stronger. Could it really be her? He wanted it to be her. He wanted it to really be his mother. But there was a cold, hard knot inside him, reminding him she had died. She couldn't be here. The house couldn't be here either. It had burned to the ground when Edward and Alphonse had left Resembool.

"You're not real," he muttered. Then this was all…a dream?

"What do you mean, Edward?"

She knelt down in front of him, studying him with concern.

"Are you feeling all right?" A hand lifted to touch his forehead and Edward drew back. The confusion and hurt on her face stung. But this was a dream. She wasn't here. She couldn't check his temperature or anything else.

"What's wrong, Ed?"

He shook his head mutely. There was nothing to say. She wasn't real.

"Edward."

The boy flinched, his heart aching at his mom's tender admonishment. Sighing, he looked up. Mom's gentle smile waited for him, green eyes warm with love. He missed her. He missed her so much! Then suddenly her face morphed and she was that thing, the hideous creature he had made her into. Edward yelped and started to back away only to find black hands held him fast, cutting into him like ice. "No! Let go! Let GO!"

Edward thrashed as the monster came toward him. "Why couldn't you do it, right? Look what you did to me. My own son. You turned me into this."

"I'm sorry," Edward cried. She was right. It was all his fault. He was the one who had pushed onward, disregarding his teacher's warning, all the warnings in books, and even his brother's hesitation. It was all on him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Mom!"

"I already died once. Wasn't that enough? Then you killed me again."

Sobbing, Edward twisted away from the monstrous face that had replaced the loving visage of his mother. He couldn't face her. He couldn't. This sin of his was too much and he couldn't face it.

Something icy cold touched his face. Edward shrieked, not ready for it. He spun around, ready to fight, and tripped over his own feet. Next thing the teenager knew he was face first in the ground. Groaning, he reached up and rubbed his aching head.

"That was quite the spectacle, Brother."

"Al?"

Edward immediately looked around for his younger brother. The tall suit of armor stood a few feet away, soul fire eyes burning bright. Hastily, Edward swiped at the remaining tears on his face as he got back to his feet. His knees wobbled and he took an unsteady step forward.

"What are you doing?"

The cold question froze Edward in his tracks. He looked up at his brother, realizing anger was radiating from the younger boy.

"Al, I—"

"Save it," Alphonse cut in. "We both know whatever you say next is going to be a lie. I thought you weren't going to cry since I can't cry anymore. You said you wouldn't. But I guess that's to be expected."

"Alphonse, knock it off," Edward snapped, cheeks heating. "I didn't do it on purpose!"

Immediately he felt guilty. He had decided that since Alphonse could no longer cry, he wouldn't. It was only fair. Except he'd just done it, again. He shouldn't have. He hadn't cried during automail surgery. He didn't even scream. Before he could apologize, Alphonse answered coldly. "Like you didn't kill mom again on purpose or trap me in this armor?"

Stunned by the hatred in his brother's words, Edward could only gape. "Wha—Al, I—"

"No more lies," Alphonse cut in. "We're done."

Alphonse's words rang in Edward's ears, growing and shrieking until it sounded like a siren. He couldn't breathe. It was as if he was on fire one second and drowning the next. Al was going to leave him. If Al was leaving, then what did he have left?

"Al!" Blindly he reached for his younger brother. "Al, please! I'm sorry. I know it's all my fault, but I—"

"Of course it's your fault!" Alphonse shouted, metal fist clenched and directed at Edward. "I didn't want to do it. I told you so. But you didn't listen."

"I know I didn't." The regret Edward felt for ignoring his younger brother rested like a boulder on his chest.

Alphonse went on as if he had not heard. "Not only did you kill Mom again, but I lost my body! I can't feel anything. Not the rain or the grass or the wind. I can't eat, or sleep, and all because of you!"

"I'm sorry," Edward whispered, unable to refute Alphonse's words. Every accusation was like a knife to his heart.

"You're sorry? You destroyed my life!"

There was nothing to say. Edward knew it was true. His shoulders hunched and he couldn't look at the suit of armor. The suit of armor he had tied his brother's soul to in a last ditch attempt to not lose him completely.

"Goodbye, brother."

Edward snapped upright. Alphonse had turned and was storming away. No, he couldn't leave like this. Yes, Edward knew he deserved it, but he had to make things right. He had too, somehow. "Al wait! Please, I—"

He tripped again, falling face first into the cold ground. The teen lay there for a moment, stunned as he tried to gather his wits. Distantly, he heard the clanking steps of his brother's armored body.

"Al."

There was no answer only the receding clanking steps. Edward's automail hand curled into a fist. He'd given his arm to bind Alphonse's soul to the suit of armor because he couldn't let his brother die that night. He couldn't be responsible for two deaths. But really, he had just been selfish. What life did Al have? Alphonse's accusations rang in his ears. He couldn't feel anything, couldn't eat, and couldn't sleep. And all because of Edward.

Fresh tears trickled down his cheeks. It didn't matter how much he apologized, how guilty he felt. There was no forgiving what he had done. That Alphonse had stayed with him this long was a wonder. The armored boy had never said anything, but Edward had known. Alphonse hated him. He'd wanted to ask, but he was too much of a coward to. Getting Al's body back would make things right, but it could not take back what had been done. And the only chance of that was finding the Philosopher's Stone. But the past year had been one dead end after another. How long would they search? How long would Alphonse stay with him?

It looked like he had his answer. Alphonse would leave Edward in the dust as soon as he could. He couldn't blame him.

Time ceased to matter as Edward grew numb. He lay there, not really aware of anything, just drifting. Maybe he'd wake up, maybe he wouldn't. It didn't really matter now that Alphonse was gone.

Edward slowly blinked. There was a shadow in front of him. It was a shadow, one Edward has never forgotten though he had tried to. He cringed away from it as he slowly levered himself up. But he kept his head down; refusing to look at the man he knew was his father. He hated his father for leaving, for abandoning their family. If he'd been there, he could have helped mom. Maybe even saved her! Then Edward and Alphonse wouldn't have been left all alone. And Edward wouldn't have destroyed his brother.

"Of course I left." Edward's eyes widened and he jerked his head up to see the golden hair and eyes so much like his own. His father's face was devoid of affection, cold and hard. "Why would I stay around something like you? You're a worthless piece of trash that dishonors me and your mother with your every breath."

The man's cutting words struck their mark. Edward struggled to stand, mouth twisting in fury and terror.

"You left us!" Edward cried, the words more broken and quiet than he intended. "And you never came back!"

"Nor will I," Hohenheim growled. "My wife and son are gone. And you are not worth anything to me."

Growling, Edward lunged. Hohenheim abruptly vanished and the blonde whirled around, trying to find the man. His balance was off however and he landed on his rear with a hard thud. Wincing, Edward glanced around. Everything was gray. It swirled like a mist around him, threatening to consume him and yet it didn't, teasing and taunting. Edward shivered, curling his legs up to his chest, unable to control his shaking. He hated Hohenheim. Hated him! The worthless bastard abandoned them, hurting Mom and forcing her to raise the brothers alone. Edward had done his best to help her shoulder the burden, but in the end it had not been enough. She died and Edward and Alphonse had been left alone.

"Damn it," Edward whispered, trying to stand. He couldn't stay here. Fear was clawing at his chest and it was getting harder to breathe. But where could he go?

"Looking for me?"

"Colonel?" Something in his chest warmed a little. He refused to acknowledge it as hope. Edward turned his head and saw Colonel Mustang standing several feet away, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his uniform. Despite the familiar pose, there was something off about the man. For one, he was covered in shadow and it was hard to make out his features. The soldier was less distinguishable than his old man and Edward hadn't seen him since he left eight years before. It didn't make sense.

"Colonel, what's going on?" Edward demanded, the relief giving way to dread. Something was wrong. He finally managed to get his legs steady enough so he could stand. But it felt like he was still flat on the ground. Wait, was he still dreaming? Edward pressed his flesh hand to his forehead. Now that he thought about it, it felt like his head was throbbing like a drum. He was awake now, right?

"Oh, nothing much. I've just come to a realization after seeing how your own family feels about you and your failures, that's all."

Ice. It trickled down Edward's neck and over his collarbone. No, this couldn't be happening. What was the colonel implying? And damn it, why couldn't he see his face clearly?

"What's that?" Edward demanded, trying to bluster with his usual attitude even as dread ate his insides.

"That you're of no use to me," the Colonel declared coldly. "And I should not have bothered."

Stunned, the blond gaped at the shadowed soldier. Fear rooted in his belly and was stretching up to squeeze his heart, his throat. No, this wasn't happening. Mustang couldn't be saying that. Not when he—not when Mustang had called him out on his sin and told him to move forward, to seek a way to fix things. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. The colonel may have been an egotistical, ambitious bastard, but Edward didn't think he'd up and leave.

"Goodbye Fullmetal."

That drew Edward from his stupor. "No Colonel, wait!"

Despite how much Edward disliked the man, how annoying he found him, he needed the colonel. It was thanks to the colonel he had any hope at fixing his mistakes. He couldn't leave Edward behind! Edward didn't want to be alone. He deserved it, but he couldn't bear it.

The colonel ignored him and walked into the shadows.

"Please," Edward cried, desperate, hand outstretched.

"Hello reviled one."

The voice was only vaguely familiar and it sent chills up Edward's spine. He spun frantically trying to find the source. "Whose there?"

The colonel had disappeared and only the mist remained. Panic clawed at his throat, rendering Edward mute. Frantically he looked around hoping to see somebody, anybody. There was nothing but gray emptiness. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

"You are one of the reviled, you poor soul. No one cares who you are. But I will send you on to be loved."

Edward's heart hammered in his chest, a loud frantic thumping that filled the quiet.

"Such a pitiful creature. So hated by this world. No one will notice, you see. They never do. How can they? Those that know love are cherished by those around them, not left forgotten in the dust."

Edward could sense it, whatever it was, circling him. His heart pounded as he frantically tried to locate the speaker. Nothing. Nothing but gray mist. He didn't know what was worse: the gray mist or the blinding white at the gate.

Something brushed against his shoulders and he yelped, twisting around only for the gray to give way to white. Blinking furiously, Edward shielded his face with his arm. When his eyes had adjusted, he looked around. And promptly wished he was back in the gray mist because a twisted, distorted creature was coming towards him, holding a small pointed object that resembled a needle.

Edward scrambled back, a terrified shriek escaping his throat.

"Get away from me!"

The creature stepped closer, making some sort of strange sound, the needle still brandished. Edward turned to run only to be tangled up in black, slithering arms. Arms he remembered from that horrible night when he was taken to the gate. He was trapped, helpless. Still, he tried to fight, tried to wiggle free, but their grip was too strong and he was too weak.

The eerie voice from earlier spoke again. "Don't be scared reviled one. Your suffering is at an end. It is time to show you the way."

Edward screamed. "Stop! Stop it! Leave me alone!"

They didn't let go no matter how Edward struggled. He couldn't let them do this. He couldn't! How could he fix all his mistakes? Edward howled, successfully managing to punch one of the creatures restraining him. It fell away with a screech and the other creature's grip tightened as it cried out in surprise. Edward sneered and twisted to punch another one. Unfortunately, the creature was ready and caught his wrist, pulling it easily to the side as if he was nothing. He cursed his lack of strength and tried to rally. But he was so tired and there were so many of them. He was trapped and this time there was no chance of getting free.

The creature he'd knocked away had gotten back up and was approaching again quickly, needle at the ready.

No one cares about you. No one will miss you.

Edward's heart was racing as the realization hit full force. They were going to put him down like a rapid dog.

Pitiful creature. No one will miss you.

"Don't touch me!

They ignored him and as the creature loomed over him, needle ready to inject him and end his life. Edward thrashed uselessly. He couldn't breathe and he squeezed his eyes tight in anticipation even as he howled defiance.

"Fullmetal!"

It was like a boom of thunder in the chaos. Everything went still and Edward struggled to regain his breath as the creatures swiftly backed away. He knew that voice. Didn't he? Fullmetal…that was him. Only one person called him that regularly. Blearily, the blond tried to look around, tried to find the man who had stopped the monsters and made them step back in fear.

A familiar figure in blue kneeled down beside him. Edward couldn't see the man's face clearly, but it was definitely him. "Colonel," he whimpered. Relief and fresh fear raced through him. The colonel had left him behind, right? Had said he wasn't any use to him. But no, he hadn't, had he? Edward was so confused and his panic mounted. Was he dreaming? Was this real? Or was this just another part of his nightmare? The world spun and the pounding in his head increased to a frantic thrumming.

"Breathe Fullmetal." Two strong, solid hands gripped his trembling shoulders, anchoring him. "Take a breath now."

There was no room for argument. Still, he struggled to obey. It was as if his lungs were made of lead and his raw throat made it even harder. Finally, however, he managed to draw in a small breath.

"Good. Now slowly let it out."

This was easier to do, though it stung his throat. He coughed and everything ached with the jolt.

"Breathe in."

He whined in protest, but the colonel remained firm. "Breathe in again, Fullmetal."

So he did. And again, the colonel told him to release it slowly. Mustang made Edward do this over and over, until at last, Edward could clearly see the man's face and the room around him. He wasn't in a gray or white emptiness, but rather a white room. It seemed familiar, like he'd been there before. Blinking, Edward focused on Mustang. The colonel looked strangely out of sorts. For one, his military jacket was missing, leaving the man in just a pale blue collared shirt. His dark hair was in utter disarray and there were new lines around his eyes and mouth. Dark eyes were watching him closely. It was almost as if the man was concerned, which was odd for his normally aloof superior.

"Where?" Edward croaked, unable to finish.

"In the hospital," Mustang answered tersely. "You collapsed because of a high fever. You don't remember?"

Fever? He collapsed? Edward tried to think, he really did, but everything was foggy and seemed far away. Weakly, he shook his head and regretted it. Closing his eyes tight, he curled his fingers tighter into the fabric of the colonel's shirt sleeve. He licked his lips and winced. They were dry and cracked and rough.

"Here." A cool glass was pressed to his lips. "Drink slowly."

The water was blissfully cool, but the teenager couldn't drink much. His stomach churned slightly and he drew back. Immediately the glass was taken away.

"Colonel Mustang, sir," a feminine voice said from somewhere to the left. "He needs medicine. If you'll step back, please..."

An inkling of a suspicion trickled in Edward's mind as she spoke. If he was in the hospital that meant the speaker was probably a nurse. Nurses didn't usually say stuff like that unless they intended to use a certain pointy object on him. He twisted and saw he was right. She had a needle and was coming right for him.

"No, get away from me!" Edward flailed, trying to get up and run.

"Fullmetal." Strong hands easily held him down as the nurse came forward. Edward squirmed in the colonel's hold as the nurse approached.

"Damn it, I don't need it! I'm fine! I—"

He broke into a coughing fit. His automail ports flared in protest to the harsh movement and suddenly it was as if his body was on fire. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All he knew was it hurt and he wanted it to stop. Make it stop, make it stop! He couldn't breathe. Panic bloomed in his chest. He couldn't breathe!

"Listen to me, Fullmetal. Calm down. You're all right. Take a breath. Follow my lead." Mustang inhaled and slowly exhaled in Edward's ear. Edward tried to mimic him and was able to suck in some air. Then he let it out reluctantly. It was harder to inhale, but he managed to again. Spots filled his vision and he clenched his eyes shut. Everything hurt. It hurt so badly. He wanted it to stop.

Mustang's soft baritone cut through the haze. "Breathe Fullmetal. In and out."

In and out. In and out. He could do that. A palm rested on his chest and began to rub circles. "Relax, kid."

Edward forced his mind to focus on the feeling of the colonel's hand rubbing his chest. It was a strange sensation. Mustang's palm was firm, yet the motion was gentle and easy. His hand was also quite big, Edward realized. It covered almost Edward's entire chest with ease. He didn't like to think it, and he raged against it when anyone dared imply it, but as he gradually caught his breath and the pain dulled under Mustang's ministrations, Edward couldn't help but feel incredibly small.

"All right pipsqueak, are you going to behave now?"

Anger shot through the teen. It didn't matter Edward had just thought the same thing. He hated being called small and the colonel knew it. Opening his mouth to yell, he was interrupted by a quick pinprick in his arm.

"All done." The nurse smiled before standing up and turning away while Edward gaped. When had the nurse gotten so close? He had not even noticed her.

Mustang, the smug jerk, smirked. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

Edward weakly glared up at the man, betrayed. "Bastard," he muttered. Sniffling, he finally went limp in the colonel's hold. He was too tired to be ashamed of being treated like a child. At his back, Mustang's chest rose and fell in slow steady breaths, allowing Edward to continue mimicking. The teen startled when Mustang's hand moved so his arm was wrapped around him. Then the man was moving to stand, taking Edward with him. The previous terror came back in a flash and Edward grabbed onto the man with sudden desperation. Hurt as he was that the man had tricked him, the blond did not want Mustang to leave.

"Easy, Fullmetal. Come on, up."

Mutely, Edward shook his head, curling his fingers harder into the fabric of the colonel's shirt sleeve. Strong hands gripped his middle and suddenly lifted him up onto the bed.

"Lay down," Mustang instructed. "You need to rest."

Again, Edward shook his head. If he did that, the dreams would come again. If he did that, Mustang would leave him behind. He couldn't bear either. At the same time, he was exhausted and it was a struggle to stay upright, much less hold onto the man. Mustang's hands closed around his, probably to pry them off his shirt. Edward moaned a protest, silently begging him to stop.

"Quit being stubborn and lay down, Fullmetal." Larger, calloused hands pried his up from the shirt. Edward inhaled sharply.

"Stop that. Breathe," Mustang commanded sternly. "You're fine."

Edward exhaled, focusing on Mustang's hands which had not yet let go. He let the colonel lay him down. It was a relief. The sheets were cool and welcoming and the ache in his body eased a little. But then Mustang started to let go and Edward gripped the man's wrists tightly. Please don't let go. Please don't leave.

Ignoring his silent pleas, Mustang pulled away from Edward. Panic thrummed inside the blond but before it could grow Mustang growled. "Knock that off. Breathe!"

Edward obeyed, feeling something warm and wet slip down his face. He lay, trembling, as Mustang pulled the sheet up and over him, tucking it lightly around him. It was strange. Nobody had tucked him into bed in forever. His face grew wetter because surely this was just a dream still. Then Mustang rested a hand on his shoulder, solid and warm and very real. For a moment the colonel studied him. Edward was too tired to try to understand his expression, too desperate to not be left alone to care how pathetic he must look.

"Your brother is on his way."

Al? Edward blinked, trying to get his exhausted mind to follow. Al was coming? He didn't hate Edward? He should. Edward deserved every bit of hate and disgust from his little brother. Would he really come? Edward wanted to see him so badly, wanted to have his brother with him even though he knew it was utterly selfish.

"Hawkeye is bringing him," Mustang continued, as if he sensed Edward's fear. "They'll be here soon. Until then, get some sleep."

Sleep sounded wonderful. The fear remained however, gripping his heart with cords tighter than a rabbit trap. What if it was a lie? What if he closed his eyes and he was all alone?

Reviled one.

Edward shivered. No, he couldn't sleep.

"Sleep Ed," Mustang murmured. A hand lightly brushed his bangs back. "Alphonse will be here when you wake up."

"You—" Edward licked his dry, cracked lips. "You promise?"

"Yes. I promise."

The cords of fear loosened. Since Edward had known the colonel, the man had never once broken a promise. He didn't give his word lightly. If he promised that Alphonse was coming then he was. But when? Soon was such a vague word. When? When would Al be here so Edward could apologize? He didn't want to be alone while he waited.

Swallowing, the blond struggled to speak. Was he really going to ask this? Any hesitance he had faded when the man started to turn away.

"Stay," he whispered. "Please stay, Colonel."

Mustang turned back and looked down at him for a moment, expression unreadable. Then he sighed.

Please don't go. Please don't leave.

"I'll stay."

Roy did not realize it was possible to have gray hairs before thirty. As it stood, he was pretty sure Edward had just turned half of his hair gray. He studied his young charge quietly. The boy had finally drifted off into a restless sleep, his fingers still curled around his pant leg. As soon as the colonel sat, the boy had grabbed hold of him. It was disconcerting to say the least. But he'd let it go because the tension had melted from the boy, allowing him to sleep.

At the moment, Edward's expression wasn't exactly peaceful, but it was far better than the utter panic from earlier. He would never forget the sight of Edward struggling in the nurse's hold, golden eyes glazed with fever, face contorted with terror and denial as he screamed. Roy was fairly certain his heart had stopped. He'd reacted without thinking, following some base instinct to calm the younger alchemist by getting his attention and getting the boy to focus and breathe. Thankfully, the nurses had taken their cue and stepped back, letting the colonel take charge. In the end, Edward was successfully given a shot and put back to bed.

The last thing Roy expected was for the teen to beg for him to stay. Faced with Edward's fear and tears, he couldn't refuse. So he had agreed and sat down on the bed beside the boy. That was how Edward got hold of his pant leg.

The black haired man had not allowed himself to think too deeply about what had happened to his youngest subordinate before he joined the military. The important thing was moving forward. The past was gone and could not be changed. But it could leave scars. Oh yes, the past could leave terrible, ugly deep scars. And the fever was bringing everything to the forefront. He couldn't leave his young subordinate alone. The boy was completely vulnerable.

A nurse came into the room. It was the same woman who'd given Edward his shot. Roy thought her name was Clara. In her early thirties with light brown hair and green eyes, she carried herself with a calm confidence that Roy approved of. Even when Edward had been screaming she had not lost her composure.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye and Mr. Elric's brother are here. Shall I bring them in?"

Roy hid his relief. With the two of them here, the colonel could get back to work and quit thinking about things he didn't want to think about and actually do something.

"Yes. Please tell them to keep quiet since Fullmetal's asleep."

The instruction was primarily for the younger Elric brother, who no doubt was panicking. Clara didn't seem surprised, merely nodded and left. Alphonse and Lieutenant Hawkeye came into the room a moment later.

"Colonel Mustang, sir, I—oh Brother!"

"Quiet Alphonse," the colonel chided. "He hasn't been asleep long."

The armored boy made a small sound and Roy softened. "Edward's all right. It's just has a bad fever, ok?"

Alphonse nodded stepping up to his brother's bedside. The lieutenant did the same, her sherry eyes sweeping sharply over them both. She raised an eyebrow when she noted that Edward's hand was holding onto the fabric of his pants. Roy forced himself not to fidget. He knew what it looked like. While it was true he'd allowed it to comfort his youngest subordinate that did not mean he had to like so many people knowing.

Thankfully, Hawkeye didn't comment on it. "How is Edward doing, sir?"

In hushed tones Roy relayed what Dr. Cassidy had told him. Both were relieved and concerned to hear that there were no lasting injuries, but that the fever was persisting. When he mentioned Edward's nightmares, Alphonse immediately tensed.

"Oh no! Does that mean that they…know?"

"No," Roy answered firmly. "While concerning, the staff lacks context."

Except Dr. Cassidy who was aware that Edward was an alchemist and could put the pieces together. Roy trusted the doctor's discretion however. That was why he'd chosen the man to be Fullmetal's physician in East City in the first place. And if he proved unworthy of that trust there was no hole in Amestris that Roy wouldn't be able to find him.

"However, he can't stay here. Dr. Cassidy has informed me that he'll discharge Fullmetal this evening."

"I guess I can take him back to the dorms. Only I can't…" the boy trailed off, wringing his hands together. Hands that couldn't feel. Roy silently swore. He was doing a poor job of explaining this.

"Sir, surely—"

"No, Alphonse," he said, cutting Hawkeye off, meeting the boy's gaze. "I'll be returning this evening to sign the discharge papers and pick up you both. You'll be staying with me while Fullmetal recovers."

Silence met his declaration. He was also fairly certain Alphonse would be gaping at him if his body wasn't metal. Hawkeye wasn't gaping, but it was clear to Roy by the slight parting of her lips and widening of her eyes that she had not expected this either.

"Are-are you sure, Colonel?"

The uncertain, fragile question cut into Roy. He put a hand on the boy's metal arm. "I'm sure. Now, the lieutenant and I must return to the office. I'll be back in a few hours."

"Okay."

Roy didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until Alphonse agreed. Patting the boy's gauntlet, he turned to pry his pant leg free from the older Elric's grip. Edward whined and shifted. Roy kept very still for a moment before he carefully pried up the boy's fingers and was able to slip free. His back cracked as he did so and he groaned. He'd been sitting for way too long again.

With a nod to Alphonse, Roy headed towards the door. Hawkeye immediately fell in step behind him. But before he went through the door, the colonel paused and looked back. The hulking armor stood at his brother's bedside, a tense and frightened aura radiating from him. "Al."

When the boy looked at him, Roy allowed his expression to soften. "Edward will be fine. It's just a fever. Okay?"

It wasn't just a fever. It was the nastiest fever in the history of fevers as far as Roy was concerned. Alphonse didn't need to know that. What the boy needed was some reassurance before the adults left him alone with his sleeping, fever-ridden brother.

"Yeah. Thanks Colonel."

"A nurse will be in to check on him periodically," he added. Roy knew he was starting to ramble yet couldn't help it. Now that he was at the door, there was this crazy urge to turn around and not leave the boys alone. They shouldn't be alone. Only they were far too often. He crushed the urge down.

Alphonse didn't answer this time. He merely nodded, already absorbed in watching over his brother. Roy bit the inside of his cheek and walked out the door, Hawkeye on his heels.

The two soldiers walked down the hall in silence. Hawkeye's eyes were burning into the back of his head, but he refused to stop. Now that he was away from Edward, he had to get his priorities in order, he had to focus. There was a lot to do before he came back to pick up the brothers. He fiercely shoved the growing ache in his chest aside. Now was not the time for sentiment. He had a job to do. There was no time for second guessing himself either.

Hawkeye broke the silence at last, drawing him from his thoughts by asking the one question he wished she hadn't. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Colonel?"

No. This is no doubt a horrible, no-good, very, very bad idea. But there is no other option. Roy didn't say that however. Instead, he tried to sound confident even though there was no doubt it wouldn't fool Hawkeye.

"It will be fine, Lieutenant."

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