The next morning he awoke with a start, gasping for air. The pain came rushing back, and he hissed, throwing the covers off of him. He glanced over at the now empty gun and two knives that he had set on the table, and let out a small sigh, running a hand through his ponytail. He sat up slowly, and began to unwrap the bandages, so that he could properly clean it this time. He grabbed the bottle of peroxide next to the couch, and prepared himself for the worst. He poured it down his back, and let out a wail, covering his mouth with his free hand to keep from making noise. Once he had estimated that the wound was clean, he put the peroxide down, and grabbed more bandages, wrapping himself up again. The bandages covered the entirety of his chest, starting at a little below his collarbone, and ending just below his diaphragm. He then placed the belt over his bare chest (minus the bandages), figuring he needed to patch his shirt up before he went out today.

Damn. What kind of life was this? Sometimes that question hit Ed a little too hard. What was he fighting for? What if the whole world was dead? Then what? But no, he knew he had to keep going. He couldn't disregard his own advice he had given everybody else. He needed to keep moving forward.

He was halfway down the 3rd street, his hand carefully caressing the gun as he walked through, holding it in an upward position. He flinched when he heard a large mass of a building crumble to the ground, thankful it hadn't been too close. He didn't need any more particles in his lungs than he already had. He continued walking for about another hour, his back beginning to ache terribly again. He rubbed it gingerly, and turned down another street, hearing a noise. He froze again. Could it have been another undead? He tensed and readied his gun, moving forward silently. This street was dark, acting more as an alleyway for the city. He could hardly see a thing, and was having trouble moving through the rubble. He took another step, his boot kicking a small piece of rubble forwards, producing a clink. He gasped silently, widening his eyes when he heard a distant noise, followed by a surging roar of flames, aimed right at him. He gritted his teeth and quickly began to run the opposite way, hoping he could escape the fiery trap before it was too late. When the entrance to the alley was visible, he made a dive, missing the flames by mere inches. Instinctively, without thinking, he began to run back towards the 1st street, wanting to keep from having small tight spaces. Another noise was heard and more flames rushed towards him, this time faster. He swiftly dodged these, but the next managed to singe his side, screaming. He slid to the ground, a few pieces of rubble hitting him on the way down, rendering him limp. He could barely move, his head being the only thing that he could move. Darkness was quickly snatching Ed, and he made a weak cry, feeling a cold barrel meet his temple. "You think it's funny to imper…"

Ed awoke slowly, feeling sluggish and weak. Pain immediately flourished on his side, and he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. They opened quickly, however when he heard movement, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of life. He didn't need to look far. Standing right in front of him, kneeled down, was too much of a familiar face. A small squeak released from Ed's mouth, and the figure sighed with relief, lowering their head somewhat. "So it is you." Another moment of silence was shared, before the figure moved their gloved hand towards Ed's forehead, to which Ed screeched and tried to move away from, but found a wall hit his back. The gloved hand then recoiled, and rested next to its body. "You look like hell. Do you even recognize me, Fullmetal?"

Fullmetal…that was a name only one person called him by.

Ed raised his eyes to get a clearer look at the human, and gasped when he saw who it was. Roy Mustang, in the living flesh, was kneeling beside him. He looked different too, his features looking more aged and worn than he had remembered, and his eyes were clouded; clouded and sad. Ed started to sit up, but the gloved hand came and made him lay down again, sighing. "You still haven't learned, have you? Stay down, you're hurt."

"I'm fine."

Wow. Who's voice was that? It was one he hadn't heard in nearly four months. It took him a minute to realize it was actually his, the voice sounding rough and unused.

"I'm sorry I burned you. I had to know if it was really you or not. And considering no one else is alive, the odds were slim."

"Who would..it have been..besides me..?"

Roy frowned somewhat, and adjusted his glove, his black jacket draping over him like a cloak. "Some of the undead. They can shapeshift. My guess is that those who were devoured by Envy somehow were able to remain alive and escape to the surface with their newfound powers." Roy explained, the smooth voice still present in the man's tone, however it was more rough than before.

Ed coughed and started to sit up again, this time fighting the hand that came to push him back down. "Let me up..you can't..just come in here..and expect to start..bossing me around.." he wheezed, placing a hand onto the new burn wound, feeling the heat radiate off of it.

"No, but by the looks of it you do need some serious help." Roy commented, this time helping the younger alchemist up, giving his support if he needed it.

"I'm sorry..I didn't recognize you.." Ed apologized, his voice cracking in the middle of his sentence. He gave a quick once over, deciding they were in an alley. And it was getting late. Not good. "Why don't we..head back to my place..?" he offered, using the wall to stand up, his legs feeling like jello.

Roy nodded and started to stand up with Ed, eyeing him cautiously to make sure he wouldn't fall. "Hey, Fullmetal." He called, hoping to grab the younger man's attention.

Ed glanced over at Roy, giving a questionable look at the blurry figure.

"I'm glad you're alive."