I'm running again. I'm always running now. Feels like it's never going to end. Like I'm never going to stop running. Ever.

I'm running in darkness. I can't see anything. But someone's chasing me. I know who it is. I don't know why. I just know I have to get away from him. I have to get away as far away from him as I can. As quickly as possible.

"What's the matter?" he asks, and I hear the sneer in his words. "Getting tired?"

Sharp pain stabs me in the leg and I fall. Perhaps I slipped on my own blood. I can't be sure. All I know is now I'm on the ground. In the dark. And he's coming closer. He's laughing. Cruelly.

I see his sword in front of my face. It's glowing red.

"You have to be the weakest and most pathetic creature I've ever seen in my whole life," he says.

I don't dare look up at his face. I can't move. I can't fight back.

He hits me with his sword and my arm shatters. The force knocks me onto my back. The splinters of metal and wires and gears fall around me like rain. They hit me in the face. It hurts. A lot.

I'm looking up. I see a man standing in front of me. Looking down at me. His eyes are practically colourless. His hair is crimson and messy. He's frowning. He's angry. At me.

"How could you have become such a failure?" he demands.

Aerrow catapulted upwards with a scream, his face and body drenched in sweat. He shook, clutched at his sheets and tried to pull them closer, and once he realised he was back in the hospital near Central Command, only then did he try to breathe easier.

He was safe.

He couldn't be hurt.

Not here, at least.

He looked up at the window. Somebody had closed the drapes while he had been sleeping, but it was obviously night-time now. It was dark, and the drapes were glowing white in the light of the waning moon.

He would have lay back down, but he knew that his pillow would be just as soaked as his forehead, and these sheets were uncomfortably warm and wet. So he swung his legs out of bed and set his feet down on the cold floor.

This wasn't going to be pleasant.

Aerrow stood up, wavering as he tried to avoid resting on his left leg, and staggered over to the window. He pulled the drapes aside, quickly found the catch and managed to get it open, and it wasn't long before the cold air of the night was washing around the room.

It was chilling, but he didn't mind. He needed something to distract him from that horrible dream.

Fighting the Dark Ace in his dreams was nothing new, and neither was losing to him. It was his most frequent nightmare besides the one where he fell off the Condor and nobody came to catch him, the one where everything and everyone around him was burning and there was no means of escaping or dousing the fire and the one where everyone and everything around him was trying to dress him in different clothes.

But this was new.

He had always managed to either defeat or escape the Dark Ace in this dream. He had never been caught, and definitely never been hurt before. And that other person there…

…it was Lightning Strike.

Why had Lightning Strike appeared in his dream? Because of the journal? And he'd made it sound like he loved Aerrow, so why did he call him a failure?

And why had he spoken with the voice of Major Blitz?

If Piper was here, she would be able to make sense of it. She would probably explain that since Aerrow didn't remember his father's voice, his mind was substituting the next best thing.

But what did that mean?! He didn't think of the Dust Storm Alchemist as his father!

Did he?

He certainly had been taking a lot of responsibility in this situation. He'd made sure Aerrow was eating and sleeping, posted guards outside his room so that he felt safe, had been coming in and talking to him when he was feeling lonely or in need of comfort, somehow sensing when this was needed, finding him and talking him down off the roof…

So maybe he had been acting like a father would. At least a little.

But was it really enough for Aerrow to have mentally applied his voice to the face of his own father?

It wouldn't have been half as bizarre were it not for how well the two seemed to fit together.

A breeze blew into the room and ruffled Aerrow's long hair, and he wondered if he should find a shower. He was beginning to feel dirty again. Were it not for the lingering pain in his leg, he would have happily departed in search of a bathroom of some kind.

But as it was, he remained at the window, allowing the wind to dry the sweat on his face.

It did feel rather nice.

And it reminded him of home.

The Major tapped a finger on his cup sending ripples through the coffee it contained.

It was another cold night. Considering the time of year, it was only going to get colder for the next few months. He pulled his jacket tighter around his body and shifted closer to his window to get a better view.

Not a cloud in the sky, and it was a beautiful if chilling night. Light breezes were blowing across the city and rustled leaves in nearby trees. It was peaceful and quiet and just a little eerie. The kind of night that seems foreboding, like the calm before a tremendous storm.

And he'd lived long enough to see many, many tremendous storms.

His gaze wandered sideways, away from the moonlit night and onto his desk nearby, upon which the letter that had been written what felt like forever ago lay on top of a book about rocks next to a crude homemade anemometer. Would he ever get a chance to deliver it? He didn't know. And he certainly didn't know if he would ever pluck up the courage to do so.

What was written there… in that boy's current state of mind, it would probably drive him insane. Either that or he would just shut down completely and never say a single word ever again. After all, it wasn't exactly very gentle in its subject matter, and somebody of that mental and emotional state could easily misinterpret it.

But then again, it was likely Aerrow would never recover from this. Many people didn't after such a horrific event. In which case, he was probably never going to be able to read this letter.

So he might never know the true fate of his father.

The Major sipped from his coffee, wanting to consume it before it got cold, and he closed the window before his room could turn into a fridge (as anybody with any sense would).

He couldn't help but wonder how the boy was doing now. Considering when he'd gone to sleep, he was probably awake by now. If so, was he lonely? Was he missing his friends? Was he wondering where the former Fullmetal Alchemist or the Dust Storm Alchemist had gone to? Were the guards treating him well, if they were talking to him at all?

He couldn't help but wonder.

Blitz picked up the letter and read through it again, as he had many times before, He could probably recite the entire thing from memory if he tried.

He looked up at the window again. He would have closed the drapes, but he liked the view of the night sky. It reminded him of the home he hadn't seen in what felt like centuries, even though it had only been a little over a decade.

'I wonder if I'll ever see it again,' he pondered. 'Am I ever going to go home?'

He'd been in this place for so long, he couldn't even envision anything different.

'Damn you, Amestris,' he thought as he lay back on his bed with the coffee in one hand and the letter in the other, and stared up at the carefully scripted lettering. 'You've taken me over, you goddamn monster of a country.'

He lowered his hand and rested the letter on his chest, unable to escape the sensation of loneliness that crept over him.

"I really hope you'll be able to read this someday," he said to nobody.

"Aerrow?"

Ed made sure to close the door properly behind him.

"Aerrow?" he repeated. "Can you hear me?"

Aerrow didn't respond, but he was obviously awake. His eyes were wide and shadowed and staring at the open book.

"Aerrow, don't you think it's time you put that book down for a little while?" asked Ed. "You know you have to take a break sometime, and you've been reading for quite a while now-"

"I know," Aerrow interrupted, "but it's the best I have."

Ed was puzzled.

"Best you have at what?" he asked.

"I've never known my parents," Aerrow explained, "so reading this kinda makes me feel a little closer to them. Closer to my dad."

"But you'd have to leave your dad alone sooner or later," said Ed, "and do you even know how long you've been reading that thing?"

Aerrow didn't reply. He just turned a page of the book.

"Aerrow, you've been reading for two days straight!"

That got through to him.

Aerrow closed the book around his finger and rested it in his lap.

"Has it really been that long?" He asked the question without looking in Ed's direction.

"Yes," Ed said as harshly as he dared. "Did you really lose track of time because you were reading so much?"

"But-"

"No buts, Flyboy. I know you want to know more about your dad. Trust me, I understand it perfectly. But that isn't what you need to focus on right now. You need to focus on getting back on your feet!"

"But how can I?" Aerrow turned his head in Ed's direction, but still didn't look up at his face. "I can't even stand without support. How am I supposed to 'get back on my feet'?"

Ed pinched his brow, trying to think of a solution.

"I can help you walk," he said. "Maybe you could go up to the rooftop and get some fresh air."

"I-"

"It's for your own good. You know that."

Taking a deep breath, Aerrow placed the open book down and swung his legs out of the bed. Ed hooked an arm under his shoulder and pulled him to his feet.

"You okay with that?" he asked.

"Let's just go to the roof and get this over with," Aerrow said.

Ed obediently led him out of the room and together they walked down the hallway, the redhead struggling to keep pace with the blond and having to be dragged for part of the way. Ed tried to ignore this and fixed his gave dead ahead, knowing that looking at his friend at this close proximity would likely make him more uncomfortable than he already was.

And he was uncomfortable. It was obvious he still wasn't a big fan of people touching him, so Ed holding him like this had him on the edge of a freak-out, even if this was somebody he was more than familiar with and they weren't going to be like this for very long.

"Hold on for a little longer, okay?" Ed said as they reached the Roof Access door. "We don't have much further to go."

"Get me out," Aerrow gasped. "Just get me out!"

Ed pulled him up the stairs two steps at a time, wanting to get the journey over as quickly as he could. Once he reached the top, he threw the door open and released Aerrow, who seized the doorframe and leaned heavily against it to catch his breath.

"You alright?" asked Ed, despite the answer being extremely obvious.

Aerrow gulped and panted some more.

"Y-yeah," he gasped. "I just need to…"

He trailed off, needing to breathe.

Ed looked out at the rooftop.

"You know," he said, "this is where I won a fight with Alphonse for the first time ever. Managed to throw one of those sheets on him and distract him long enough to get a hit in. He called me out for cheating, but I didn't care. I'd finally beaten him. And this was only recently after I'd almost died in a swordfight I hadn't brought a sword to!"

His smile faded when he saw that Aerrow was still leaning against the frame, trying to remain calm.

"I'm sorry about manhandling you like that," Ed told him. "There wasn't really any other way for me to support you properly. I'll try not to do it again if I can avoid it."

"I know," said Aerrow. "I know."

He didn't shiver as another cold gust of wind blew across the area.

"And I know I've been spending a lot of time with that journal," he said, "but what do you expect?"

Ed nodded.

"I kinda wish my father had done something like that," he said. "Written a journal so I didn't go making half-baked assumptions about what he was actually like from what little I could remember."

"It's different for me though," said Aerrow. "Everybody knows about what happened to Lightning Strike. During the battle to end all battles against Cyclonia, he was on the verge of winning when his co-pilot betrayed him and struck him down. With his own sword, no less."

Ed wasn't too sure what to say to this.

"Ouch," he muttered.

"But I think," Aerrow continued, "the fact that his co-pilot was the Dark Ace explains a lot."

"You what?!"

"It's true. Just read it if you want to know more."

"Well, I already kinda knew some since your squad showed me-"

"They did?" Aerrow's voice was a strange mixture of sadness, disappointment and acceptance. "Did they make you bring the journal to me?"

"Yes, but-"

"Because they want me to come back?"

"Uh…"

"If they did, it didn't work. I'm not going back. I can't. Ever."

He turned away from the frame to face the rooftop.

"I want to," he said. "Part of me feels like it's telling me I have to. But I don't think I'll be able to face them knowing what's happened. If word gets out in Atmos, we'll never be treated as a proper squadron again. But without me, they might be viewed as easy pickings for Cyclonia and all their lackeys. I…"

His head fell in shame.

"…I feel trapped," he said sadly. "I know it would probably be for the best if I returned to them, but I just don't feel like I should."

Ed tried not to look at him for too long. To do so would just make him feel more uncomfortable.

"I know the feeling," he said. "I got it quite a lot when me and Al were looking for a way to get our bodies back. Speaking of which…"

He looked over at Aerrow's arm.

"…are you really comfy with that automail?" he asked. "Don't you think you'd do better with regular old flesh and blood?"

"It was my clumsiness and stupidity that cost me my arm," Aerrow said. "I don't see any reason why I would deserve to have it back."

There was no way he was going to be convinced otherwise any time soon.

"Are you hungry?" Ed asked.

Aerrow didn't reply.

"You must be," said Ed regardless. "You haven't eaten any of the food they're bringing you. And have you actually slept at all lately? Major Blitz isn't impressed, you know."

Aerrow could easily have said that he didn't give a damn what the Dust Storm Alchemist thought of him, but the fact of the matter was that he did. The man had been looking out for him so much over the past few days and the thought that he was letting him down was unnervingly disturbing.

Almost as if the man was his father.

"Had enough?" asked Ed. "I won't hold you on the way down; you can just lean on me. That would be better, right?"

Aerrow nodded.

Ed still wasn't sure what to make of him. He'd never had to deal with a situation like this before. His usual instinct whenever somebody he was close to had gone through something emotionally harrowing was to give them some sort of hug, as he had with Winry during her confrontations with Scar. But if he tried to hug Aerrow right now, he'd probably get slaughtered for it. He knew how tough the boy was, which made seeing him in such a state even worse.

He wanted to see him smile again. He wanted to know that he was alright.

Even though he wasn't.

"Come on then," he said, "let's get you back inside before it gets cold."

Major Blitz wasn't panicking.

In fact, he was making a very specific point of not panicking.

He knew that Edward Elric was still in the city, and that he was definitely still Aerrow's friend, but what he didn't know was where either of them had gone to. He had been trying to find something more appetising than hospital food for his… charge, and had returned to find the journal face down and open on the empty bed. No sign of Aerrow anywhere.

But he wasn't panicking. He was making sure of that. He was just waiting in the corridor for one or both of them to return.

"Hey."

Oh, thank heavens.

He looked up and saw Ed walking towards him, carrying the prone figure of Aerrow in his arms. The redhead wasn't moving, but the blond didn't appear to be worried.

"Would you believe he fell asleep at the bottom of the stairs?" he asked. "I took him up to the roof to get some fresh air and when we came back down, he just went out like a light. Had to catch him before he hit the floor. Stupid idiot's gone and exhausted himself with that goddamn book."

Blitz couldn't avoid smiling to himself. He hadn't had anything to worry about after all. He stepped aside and opened the door, and watched as the ex-alchemist laid the Sky Knight down on his bed. He placed the book on the bedside table and pulled the covers over his thin body.

"You dumbass," he chastised. "Don't ask me why I like you so much."

"He does seem to have a certain charisma about him," said Major Blitz from the doorway. "And after what happened, the fact that he's staying alive is admirable in a way."

Ed straightened up.

"Why are you caring for him so much?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" asked the Major.

"I mean," Ed said as he walked out of the room, "that usually he would be cared for primarily by the doctors and nurses, or maybe one doctor in particular, but you're taking precedence over this whole situation. I can't help but be curious about that. Care to explain it?"

The Major took a deep breath. He knew he was going to have to pick his words carefully.

"I found a teenage boy dying in a backstreet alleyway," he said, "having experienced one of the most horrific deeds that can be done against any human being. His blood was all over my car's backseat and my uniform. He would have died if I'd left him one minute longer. Knowing that, how exactly do you expect me to treat him?"

"Yeah, but-" Ed also found himself searching for the appropriate phrasing. "I-it's kinda weird, okay? And you're still giving me the worst déjà vu I've ever felt in my whole life! Seriously, WHERE have I seen you before?!"

"Will you keep your voice down?" It wasn't quite a command, but it had the same tone as one. "You're going to wake him up!"

Falling silent, both males quickly glanced through the window in the door and saw that Aerrow was still fast asleep. He'd barely moved at all.

"You and I never met one another in person until several days ago," Major Blitz insisted. "I can't say I've never heard of you, Edward Elric, but we've not met face to face before then. I don't even know how many times I'm going to have to tell you that before you believe me."

Ed clenched his fists in anger.

"I'm going to find out who you are, Dust Storm Alchemist," he said solidly, "and when I do, I'm going to make sure everybody in both worlds knows about you. Mark. My. Words."

He turned and strode away.

"Where are you even going to look?" Major Blitz called. "Do you even know where to start?"

"Right now, I'm going to pick up Aerrow's coat from the laundry!" Ed replied. "The sooner I get that back to him, the better! And then I'm going to expose you for what you are!"

With that, he was gone.

Major Blitz sighed in annoyance. What was that boy's problem? Couldn't he see that what Blitz was doing was in the best of intentions?

And even if he did live up to his promise and search for information about him, he wouldn't be able to find anything substantial. There weren't any details on Wilhelm Blitz or his life in Amestris that anybody would have written down. In the one place they were written down, they had been destroyed in a fire, along with the rest of the first branch of Central Library.

He looked through the window again and, confident that the patient was now thoroughly asleep, he opened the door and stepped in.

Immediately he was hit by the change in temperature. How long had the window been open for? No wonder the boy had been unable to sleep! He hurried over to it and pulled it closed, shutting the catch as tightly and as quietly as possible. It was amazing that there wasn't ice on the floor or frost on the bedsheets.

Once he was sure that no more cold wind could penetrate the window, he looked back at the sleeping boy.

It was amazing how content he looked, lying on his side with his hair over his face. If he had been several years younger Major Blitz would have half expected him to start sucking his thumb.

He shivered violently in his sleep, and the Major noticed that the blankets seemed to be hanging off them. He gently pulled them up to cover the boy's shoulder and Aerrow immediately settled down into a far more peaceful slumber, comforted by the added warmth.

It really was very adorable.

Major Blitz brushed some of the hair away from his face, as it was sure to get caught in his nose or mouth otherwise. It was almost alarming how long it had grown – even loose, it would probably go at least to his shoulders – and the Major couldn't quite understand how he'd allow it to get like that. Surely, given the boy's profession, it would make sense to have it several inches shorter.

Perhaps spiked up out of the way as well. That usually worked.

'I wish I could talk to you properly,' Blitz said inside his mind. 'I wish I could tell you everything that's going on. I wish this had never happened to you, that I could just have found you and told you who I am. I wish things could have been different. And I wish I didn't have to make these wishes while watching you sleep rather than being able to act on them.'

The Major looked around. Nobody was watching, and Aerrow was still as fast asleep as he had been several minutes ago.

Very carefully, trying his utmost not to disturb the boy, Blitz leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead.

He wouldn't feel it. He was too busy sleeping.

But Blitz hoped he would at least know that he was protected.

Aerrow opened his eyes in shock.

The Dust Storm Alchemist…

…had kissed him.

Admittedly it had only been on the head, but it was still a kiss!

He'd been awakened by a shout from Ed, but didn't want to disturb either him or Major Blitz by showing that he was still awake, and…

…and there was a folded piece of paper lying on the floor.

From its position and the fact that it hadn't been there before Blitz's visit, it had fallen out of the soldier's pocket. Although his body felt like it weighed a tonne, Aerrow reached down and picked it up.

Through exhaustion, the lettering was bleary and unfocused.

But Aerrow could make out the vague shape of his name.

He slipped it under his pillow and settled down again. He could read it later.

When he woke up again, the sun was hanging low in the sky.

Either he'd slept through an entire day and woken up at dusk, or it was dawn and that day was just beginning.

He felt refreshed though, and rolled over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

That's when he heard the crinkling of paper.

He remembered what had transpired before he went to sleep for good and pulled the folded paper out from under his pillow.

Yes, that was definitely his name.

Written in Atmosian script.

Huh?

Now it had him gripped. He had to know what it was.

He unfolded it and started to read.

The Major felt in his pockets.

"Oh no…" he muttered.

The letter was gone.

He glanced at the clock nearby. It was half past nine in the morning.

Where could he have dropped it? On the way to the hospital? On the way back? In the hospital? In Aerrow's room?

He had to get it back.

Who the hell knew what could happen if Aerrow read it?!