Hey all! ^_^ Thank you for commenting on the first chapter of this story. Here's chapter two for you, and I must warn you that the angst butter is applied heavily to the slice of FMA toast. /hinthint/ I hope you enjoy this chapter, though. Have fun.

Disclaimer- No own fer me. FMA belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.

Drip...drip...

Fuery meticulously rubbed away the splotches of water on the glass picture frame, sniffling when a few more drops took their places. How would he explain to Havoc the tear stains on the last picture taken of Colonel Mustang? Fuery continued to dry the tears on the picture, shuffling around on the couch so that he could cross his legs.

There was a soft knock on the door, as if someone was attempting not to bother him, but still try to get his attention. Fuery snapped into action, swiping the rest of the tears off the frame, and then setting it on the lamp stand next to him. He sniffed, and straightened himself up.

"I-It's open!" Fuery said, resenting the crack in his voice. He gave one final sniff as the door to his military dorm opened with a creak, and Havoc walked in. Several bags were slung over his shoulder, and he was wearing a plain pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt that was stretched across his broad chest. Havoc smiled weakly through the cigarette in his mouth.

"You ready to go?" Havoc asked, setting the bags down. Fuery nodded quickly and looked around the room. There wasn't really much for him to take. He had a few clothes, a cabinet or two of technological things, and a blanket that he rarely left in the dorm when he slept elsewhere. Food was unnecessary to bring; Fuery was sure that Havoc had enough to eat at his place.

"Hey, you been crying lately?" Havoc asked carefully as he went over to Fuery's dresser and began to pack his clothes into one of the bags. Shaking his head in an instinctive lie, Fuery sat back down on the couch and covered his face with his hands. "Well, your eyes looked wet so I..." Havoc trailed off, noticing how Fuery's shoulders were trembling. The cigarette between his lips fell to the floor, where he unconsciously put it out with a grind of his boot. "Fuery, you okay?"

"I-It's been a week..." Fuery choked out, "...and I s-still can't stop crying. You can't imagine the nightmares I b-been having." He moaned in anguish, putting his head between his knees.

Havoc watched the young man, pressing his tongue against his teeth and wondering what he could possibly say that would help him. Thinking of nothing, Havoc settled himself by placing a firm hand on the back of Fuery's head, petting him once, and then moving away to continue packing. For a while, the only noise heard in the room was Fuery's soft crying, and the rustle of items being packed away into bags.

Once the last bag was zipped up and tossed up against the door with the others, Havoc reached into his pocket for his own handkerchief. He held it out to Fuery wordlessly, who took it hesitantly and vigorously rubbed at his cheeks. Setting his jaw and standing up, Fuery handed the cloth back to Havoc.

"Keep it," Havoc said firmly, leaning over and picking up the bags he'd packed. He stepped out of the dorm room, closing it after Fuery had left as well. After the door was locked, Havoc walked Fuery to the black, military-issued car outside of the dorms.

"You're not going to sit in the passenger's seat?" Havoc asked as Fuery made his way over to the backseat of the car. With a shake of his head, Fuery shut the door, leaving Havoc to stare at the tinted window worriedly.

The packed bags were tossed into the trunk, and then Havoc was in the front seat, starting up the car. He pulled out onto the street silently, averting his eyes from the rearview mirror where he could see Fuery staring blankly out the window.

Fuery looked out of it, disheveled. His glasses were crooked, and he didn't seem to care. His clothes were nothing but a huge t-shirt that made his lean, fragile look smaller, and his military-issued trousers. His hair looked like it was sticking up more than usual, and his complexion was pale and unhealthy.

"Have you been eating, Fuery?" Havoc asked, swallowing hard. His eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror long enough to see Fuery give a jerky shake of his head. Havoc gritted his teeth and sighed. Something in the back of his mind knew that Fuery wasn't eating, and wasn't sleeping regularly. He himself hadn't had an interest in food since... last week. Havoc swallowed again and focused on the road. When he looked into the rearview mirror again, Fuery was sprawled out across the backseat, arm thrown over his face, sleeping.

xxxxx

"Three o'clock," Edward muttered softly to himself. He brought his legs up onto the armchair he sat on, wrapping his arms around his knees and resting his chin on them. Closing his eyes, he attempted to sleep for the third time in an hour, but failed to do so.

Usually, each time Edward tried to fall asleep, he would dream of the night that he and Alphonse got their original bodies back. Each dream varied in length and perspective, but they all held the same meaning and they all were true. After two nights, Edward had resorted to staying up all night, reading and sipping on cup after cup of lukewarm coffee. Alphonse didn't know about his all-nighters, or his sudden caffeine obsession, and Edward preferred that it stay that way.

However, Edward was not awakened by a nightmare of his own at the moment, but by a terrified scream coming from Alphonse's room. In less than twenty seconds, Edward had jumped up from the armchair and graced the long hallway of the Hughes' home. He thundered up the stairs and sprinted all the way to the open door of his younger brother's room.

"Brother?" Alphonse cried helplessly. Edward had heard his voice, but he didn't see him. His eyes searched the room feverishly, before they strayed to the huddled lump in the corner of the bed.

Alphonse had covered his head with his blanket, and his whole frame was shuddering violently. Edward knew better than to suppose that Alphonse was crying; neither of them cried after having a nightmare, but Alphonse always became uncomfortably clingy after waking up from one.

"Come on, Alphonse," Edward said with a long sigh, stepping into the room and sitting down on the bed, leaning against the headboard. The lump in the corner shuffled over to his side and pushed itself underneath his arm. Immediately, Edward wrapped his other arm around Alphonse's hidden form, and squeezed comfortingly.

"Every time..." Alphonse whispered hauntingly, "...Every time I dream, I'm in the Gate again, and I see him. Every time, he's taken apart right in front of me." Alphonse's voice broke, but no sobs came. Edward squeezed his brother a little tighter, secretly relishing the feel of a warm body instead of cold metal.

"Don't think about it Alphonse. He wouldn't want you to regret everything, not after his sacrifice," Edward said between his teeth. The blanket slipped off Alphonse's head, revealing his widened eyes and his trembling chin.

"When I wake up sometimes," Alphonse shook his hands out of the blanket and held them up to look at with an almost disgusted gaze, "I hate myself. I hate everything we've done so far, because I know that he's not coming back."

"Alphonse!" Edward said sharply, "Don't go there! Mustang gave his life so that you and I can be human again. Remember all those times when you said you just wanted to know what a human's warmth was like? Remember when I told I wanted to see you smile again?" Edward grabbed Alphonse's hand and brought it up to his face, pressing it to his cheek. "The only reason you can do this now, is because of Mustang. Don't regret that or his decision."

"Brother..." Then, Alphonse did cry. He collapsed into shaky tears, pulling the blanket back over his head and curling up on the bed. Edward slid down until he was laying on his side, elbow propped up on a pillow.

"It's going to be alright, Al," Edward said through the lump in his throat, "I promise you. I'm going to resign from the military, and we'll go live with Winry and Aunt Pinako again."

He received no answer.

Not caring about his lack of a response, Edward draped an arm around his brother's still shivering frame and closed his eyes. Somewhere between the haze of sleep and consciousness, he felt Alphonse shift closer to him.

xxxxx

Fuery was startled awake by the feel of a warm palm hovering over his brow. His eyes slitted, and he focused in on Breda's tightened face. With a muffled groan, he pressed his cheek back into the uncomfortably hot pillow, wanting his body to become the limp piece of string it had been only moments before.

"He's feverish. Very feverish," Breda grunted to someone.

"I'll have to admit, I didn't know the kid had it in him. He drunk me under the table last night as soon as I brought him in the house," Havoc said with only the slightest bit of astonishment. A solid slap to the back of the nonchalant smoker's head echoed through the apartment bedroom, earning a pitiful whine from the lump underneath the blankets that was Fuery.

"You're an idiot, Havoc! What if he didn't have enough tolerance for that much alcohol? And what's this?" Breda leaned over Fuery's shivering form to snatch a bottle of liquid from the nightstand. "Scotch? You know only Mustang could tolerate this crap! Why do you even have this?" The last question sounded absolutely curious. "How much did the kid drink anyways?"

Havoc rubbed at the back of his head where Breda's hit had fallen. With a quick glance around the room at the shoes he'd had to take off Fuery when he'd passed out, along with the vomit-ridden shirt and pants, he grimaced. "About three bottles an a half. I say half because he puked in the last bottle." His nose wrinkled at the memory. He had been scared out of his wits when Fuery had wanted a second bottle. After he started throwing up so hard that he couldn't cry, that was when Havoc shoved his fingers down the kid's throat to make it all come up at once. When the young man's stomach was finally empty of toxins, Havoc half-carried, half-dragged the poor Sergeant into his bedroom and stripped him down to his underwear.

"That's just..." Breda shook his head, "Man, and he needs a bath too. Do you really want your bed to smell like this?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, looking over his shoulder towards the bathroom. "Your sink working today?"

"Nah. I forgot to pay the bill last week. I've been showering at Hawkeye's place." Havoc left the room for a moment. "I'm going to go find some aspirin."

Fuery groaned and tossed his head from side to side at the pounding pain in his head. "What time is it?" he mumbled. Breda glanced down at his watch, then pressed his hand to Fuery's forehead again. There was no difference in temperature.

"'Bout noon," Breda sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, turning the handkerchief over in his hands. "You've got some dried stuff on your chin," he pointed out with a nod of his chin. Fuery frowned.

"Can't get it off," Fuery said, closing his eyes. "Head hurts."

"Yeah," Breda, making sure that Havoc wasn't back from the kitchen yet, dabbed at his own tongue with the handkercheif, then began to carefully clean the dried mess off of Fuery's face, "I know. May I formally introduce you to a hangover." Fuery wrinkled his nose at the cool feel of the damp cloth, and soon relaxed.

"That's... saliva... isn't it?" Fuery asked slowly. Breda chuckled lowly, and tossed the soiled handkerchief onto the nightstand. "That's disgusting."

"If you want to miraculously fix Havoc's water bill, then do so." Breda ran his hand through his shock of short, red hair. "Man, I haven't been able to sleep since last week. How are you holding up?" He asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"I haven't eaten in a while," Fuery mumbled into the pillow.

"Drinking on an empty stomach. Fantastic." Breda glared over at Havoc as he walked into the room. "You're probably the most irresponsible caretaker on Earth, Jean, you know that?"

"He wouldn't eat. I can't force him," Havoc said simply, planting two pills into Fuery's mouth and pushing a glass of milk into his hand. "Drink," he ordered lightly, then faced Breda, "Hawkeye said to watch over him, not babysit him."

"S'true," Fuery mumbled after taking a cautious sip of the milk. Breda grunted and shook his head as he stood up.

"I just came over to check up on you two. Hawkeye asked me to," the red-haired man said as he headed towards the front door. Havoc followed him with his hand in his pockets.

As Breda stepped out into the frosty air, he looked over his shoulder at Havoc. "How has he been, really?" he asked seriously. Havoc shook his head, running his hand through his hair.

"It's only been a day. I can't really say much," he said with a half-hearted shrug. Breda, dissatisfied with his answer, left the property with a frown.

The door clicked shut, and Havoc sauntered his way back into his occupied room, only to find that Fuery was gone from the bed. In a moment's panic, he realized that the poor kid was stumbling his way into the bathroom, wanting to vomit up the milk he'd just drank.

"Hey! Fuery!" Havoc called roughly and was at the young man's side in a second, throwing the kid's arm over his shoulder so that he could half-drag him the rest of the way to the toilet. Once there, Havoc kept a reassuring hand on Fuery's heaving back as he emptied the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl. Between retches, Fuery sobbed quietly and clutched the rim with all of his might, hard enough that Havoc though he would shatter it.

"I... I just can't take it," Fuery gasped, "The thought... the thought of his screaming like that when the Gate opened... I just can't take it." On an even lower note, barely a whisper, he added, "It scares me. Makes me want to just end it. End now before I find an end like he did. Ohh..." He retched again. "The nightmares...that horrified scream...the blood-" He paused to retch once more, "The blood was everywhere. On my hands, on my face. In my mou-" Suddenly, Fuery collapsed into frenzied tears once more, shoulders trembling like a child's and his forehead pressed against the cool rim of the toilet seat.

Havoc had been watching him solemnly, feeling the rising guilt at the fact that though he had been present at the time of Roy Mustang's death, he hadn't seen the entire scenario. Heck, Fuery was still young, it didn't matter if he was a Sergeant or an advanced technician. Take those few aspects away and add on a fiery disposition with blonde hair and you had Edward Elric.

"Fuery, let's get you back to bed," Havoc said gently, kneeling down next to the young man with a wet cloth in his hand, dampened by the bottle of water he kept by the sink. As smoothly as he could, he cleaned Fuery's face, rubbing the back of the kid's head as he did so until he was sure that he'd accidently put him to sleep. With an inward groan at his realized mistake, he hooked his arm around Fuery's shoulders and the other under his legs. Standing with surprisingly little effort, Havoc walked down the hall back to his room. Exhausted and sure that he was smelling horrible, Havoc nearly collapsed onto the bed with Fuery. Colleague or not, he sure could use a crap load of sleep at the moment, and the kid on the bed wasn't helping.

"M'sorry I lied, Breda," Havoc sighed out loud as he left the room in search of the couch.

Next chapter's up when I get more reviews. : And it will be hopefully more... exciting than this. _ Conversationally-wise anyway. Adieu~!