Chapter 4:

Edward was dreaming. Soft light against closed eyes. Smell of tiger lilies and clean linen. He opened his eyes to see his mother and Alphonse, hanging laundry. They saw him and beckoned to him, and he ran towards them, smiling and laughing. He was almost there, and something grabbed his ankles and arms. He tried to pull loose, but the thing only grasped him tighter. He grunted and strained as hard as he could, but to no avail. It pulled him further and further back until he could barely see them. He shouted to them, but there was no sound. He turned around to see what had pulled him away, and came face to face with the stuff of nightmares. He screamed…

And then woke up.

The hospital room he was in, and had been in for

(How long has it been now?)

quite some time now, was quiet and undisturbed. When the nurse came in for her nightly rounds, he feigned sleep. The nurses were so sympathetic, even though he ignored their words, letting them roll over him like waves. Their voices felt like glass shards in his head, cutting and shredding.

He lay limply against the sheets, and looked out the window. He saw green grass and a train rumbling past, heading for wherever. His conscious mind cautiously reminded him that there weren't any green fields or railroad tracks anywhere near his window. His mind whispered this, and yet he saw. He saw the bright gleam of the moonlight bouncing off the gleaming surface, he saw the big block letters on the side of the hulking machine. He could almost smell the freshly cut grass.

Edward shook his head, trying to rid himself of the images and taunting voice. He knew his mind was playing tricks, he knew and didn't care. Why should he? Who was going to care if he let his mind wander in the dark playground of forever? He had no mother, no father, no brother, these things had been ripped from him cruelly and maliciously.

He tilted his head up, to look at the IV machine beeping lowly, keeping time in this quiet hell. Why did Fate seem to have the cards stacked against him? What had he done to anger her this badly, to leave him alone in this world? She had filled his world with hard, ugly truths and wounds that never quite healed.

Sighing, he turned over on his side, unmindful of the pull of the IV needle in his hand. Night and day, sleep and consciousness, they all blended together anymore. And as he drifted off to sleep, he began to sing, over and over, "What a beautiful time we had together, Now it's getting late and we must leave each other…"

Roy Mustang stepped into his office, accepting the hot cup of coffee Hawkeye brought him with intense gratefulness. He hadn't slept well the night before, dreams of Edward had woken him up crying. He looked at his agenda for the day with a disinterested glance before sliding it to an inconspicuous corner of his desk. Hawkeye noticed (and glared) at this, but said nothing.

Instead, she placed his paperwork on his desk and asked in a quiet voice, "Are you going to visit Edward today?"

He jerked his head up, surprised at her intuition, but then realized that was rather stupid for him to assume she wouldn't correctly interpret his thoughts today when she had every other day they had worked together. He nodded as she walked away, already intending to go down to the infirmary on his lunch break. He wasn't sure if he could do Fullmetal any good, but he was going to try. He had to…for Alphonse.

He had not allowed himself to grieve for the younger Elric, save for a one-night drinking binge shortly after it happened. He felt his heart break a little to remember that Alphonse wasn't here to balance his brother out, for that was what he had done, all their life. Edward, he was sure, had probably always been on the high end of the seesaw, a roiling ball of blonde energy and light, whereas Alphonse had always been grounded, filled with just as much light as Edward, but in a less blinding way. It was like staring at the sun and the moon; the sun would burn your retinas to ashes, but the moon would simply smile and shine at you in a gentle, comforting.

Mustang shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts; they weren't doing him any good right now. When his lunch break rolled around, he left his office, an annoying jitter in his stomach from seeing Edward again.

He walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. For all he could see, Edward hadn't moved a single muscle since he left yesterday. His head was still turned towards the window. He stood next to Edward and spoke his name clearly.

He received no response. He studied Edward for a moment, silently debating on what to do. He reached an unspoken decision, and very gently picked Edward up. The prodigy gave no indication of even noticing, which bothered Roy. Fullmetal would never allow himself to be picked up by anyone, much less his commanding officer. It showed Mustang just how far down the well Edward had fallen. He carried him to the small bathroom just to the side of the door.

Standing Edward up for a moment, he switched on the water to the shower. He knew the nurses had been giving him sponge baths, but Mustang believed that a good shower could do wonders. As he waited for the water to warm, he realized a second too late that he would have to undress Fullmetal. He briefly considered calling a nurse in, but decided against it. He began to untie the drawstring holding the back of the teen's hospital garb together.

It came undone easily, and the gown fell apart and off his shoulders. Roy started to blush, then quickly regain his composure. He would remain professional about this. Just one soldier helping another.

He slid the rest of it off his body and felt the blush come back full force when he saw Fullmetal had no boxers on as he had hoped. He did his best to ignore this and placed the blonde in the small shower. The warm water sprayed down on Fullmetal, but he still, throughout all this, had yet to even make a sign that he knew he had been moved. Mustang sighed, and despite getting his uniform wet, reached for a nearby bottle of shampoo. He squirted some onto his hands and began lathering up the boy's hair.

While making sure that the shampoo got everywhere and scrubbed off the funk in his tangled hair, Mustang found himself fascinated by the spun gold in his hands. It turned darker when wet, like dark honey. By the time he reached for the conditioner, he had grown used to the feel of Edward under his fingertips. The young prodigy had relaxed against Mustang, and seemed to be enjoying it. The Colonel couldn't be sure because Fullmetal had been reasonably pliant thus far anyway, due to his grief-induced apathy.

His hands trembled slightly when he grabbed the soap. He lathered that up as well and set to work washing the teen. Fullmetal's skin felt so smooth and soft under his fingertips, he was surprised to find. He was used to the brash boy full of defensive edges and thorny attitudes, so this softer, gentler Edward took him off guard.

Perhaps that was why he noticed how soft and sensual his lips looked, water beading off them.

He shook his head vehemently, willing those thoughts away. He was only a child, after all. And he was a guy. Roy Mustang was many things, but gay was not one of them…

Or so he told himself.

Those occasional thoughts about Maes back during the war were irrelevant. He was under a lot of stress, nearly suicidal. They had no bearing whatsoever on this situation, here and now.

...Right?

He pushed these thoughts away again, concentrating only on getting him clean. Once that was finished, Mustang switched off the water and dried the boy off, skirting around certain sensitive areas.

As he got the boy situated back in bed, he thought that maybe Fullmetal looked a little better, at least physically. He stood at the edge of the bed, and asked very quietly, "Do you want to talk about...it?"

His voice hesitated at the last, and he winced, because he knew that Fullmetal would hear the hesitation, though he was so far gone Mustang still wondered if it were possible to bring him back.

The blonde answered with none of the fire, none of the spirit, which used to personify him, "Where's Alphonse? Has he gone to Mom?"

Roy, though unbelievably shocked, should in all honesty have seen this coming. He knew from his previous experience that Edward was losing a few screws in response to his brother's... death; he just didn't want to admit it. Mustang excused himself, not that it mattered, and left the room.

Yesterday he had had a plan. Now he wasn't sure what to do. He had barely pulled himself back from the dark abyss that got deeper every time he picked up that death-bearing pistol, how was he supposed to do it for Edward?

For the first time in a long time, as Roy Mustang cradled his head in his hands, he was forced to admit he didn't know what to do.

(A/N: So what do you think? Am I still heading in the right direction? Let me know!)