Hello guys! It's been a while now…and I know I said I'd get to the exciting stuff soon…but there's another chapter getting in the way! I think I'm dragging this out a little, so tell me if you like, desperately want me to shut up and get to the point already. *sweats*

So anyway, my FMA tribute is gonna be really late (as I usually am) so that should be up at some point in the probably distant future. I don't think I have any other news, so let's just say I like banana chips and get on with it! XD

Roy breathed deeply, a long, steadying motion.

His eyes were trained forward, straight onto his target. Concentration was drawn onto his face in the form of slight creases and the focus in his narrowed gaze. Nothing would distract him from this.

His arm was held straight forward, ready to shoot. A tremor ran through his hand, shaking his aim and forcing him to readjust.

Another breath.

He clenched his jaw and loosened up his hand, holding steady aim for the chest. One more twitch. One more shot. One more hole. Come on.

He tensed his finger and prepared to release a final attack.

However, just as he was about to fire, the shaking started up again and he dropped his hand at his side. Why couldn't he fire the damn gun?

"Problem, Mustang?"

The colonel glanced to his left. It was Edward who had asked him the question. The boy was standing in his own lane in the firing range, pistol in hand.

The colonel felt a shudder run down his spine at the sight of the boy clutching such a weapon.

It was a couple of hours after the introduction (an unofficial event Roy and Edward had clearly won, in the latter's opinion) and the teams were currently competing in the firing range with each person firing five bullets out of a regulation Amestrian sidearm. They would be judged later and a winner announced, but all of them knew there was no chance with the northerners in the running.

There were several holes piercing Edward's target, the humanoid bullseye at the far end of the range. Out of Edward's five shots, one had hit just right of the forehead, two on either side of the torso and one in the leg. The final had barely missed, leaving a chip in the target's shoulder.

Roy gave the boy a quick look up and down. Given the chance and the right training, the kid could make quite the marksman. His stomach turned at the thought of Edward walking that path.

Roy glanced away from Edward's cocked head towards his own target. Roy had taken four shots out of five, of which two had missed, one had hit the shoulder and the last had clipped the top of the head.

Edward leaned over. "Not a very good shot, are you?"

"Out of practise," replied Roy. "You're not too shabby though."

Edward shrugged and grinned a little. "S'pose it ain't bad for a first shot."

"Good job. I guess your inbuilt talent extends even further than what we already know."

Edward flashed a toothy grin. "I guess we can't say the same for Flashpants down there, huh?"

Roy glanced over his shoulder. A few lanes down stood Amory and his pistol, looking increasigly frustrated. There was only one mark on his target – a chip in the arm.

Roy allowed himself a little smirk. Even though Edward wasn't his son, he still felt a thrill of victory knowing he was beating General Shuyler's son.

As expected, the northerners had fired ten bullseyes, both in straight vertical lines of five holes.

Felix had shot two eyes and a smiling mouth into his target, whilst his father had hit the head, chest, both shoulders and the abdomen perfectly in line.

Inuya was wailing something about how he was always missing. His first shot – a perfect hole right in the forehead – appeared to have been a fluke.

Umaro seemed to be struggling as well. He wasn't well versed in the world of modern weaponry. Roy thought he'd have better luck throwing a sword at the target.

Or a bow and arrow… Yes, that would probably be a wiser option.

Edward glanced towards Tyrell. The other boy had more or less given up trying to figure out how to use the gun. Annoyed, he opened a case of nearby bullets and grabbed one before tossing it as hard as he could at the target. It fell short and Dominico laughed as he explained the firearm to his son.

The king had managed a fair enough effort, three holes on the torso. After Tyrell's five shots, there was one bullet hole through the target's neck.

The rest of the shots were around average, what was to be expected from Amestrian troops. Just about everyone had finished with their five shots by now. The only one left to shoot was Roy.

"You've got one more," Edward pointed out. "Make it count."

Roy nodded. He closed his eyes and attempted another deep breath. In the same instant, he opened his eyes and took aim.

The gun quivered in his grasp once again and he growled. What's with this shaking? Dammit.

Nevertheless, he ignored it and held his aim steady.

Bam!

Roy lowered the gun. A fresh hole marked his target, just to the left of the bullseye – right where the heart would be.

"Not bad," Edward remarked.

"Hm." Roy looked down at the pistol before setting it on the counter at his side. He held his right arm out in front of himself and stared down his trembling hand.

Is it because of the gun? I never did like firing them, but not so much I'd shake at the thought, Roy frowned. Too much paperwork? Did my hand sieze up? Maybe I'm just tired…

Edward looked around the colonel's shoulder at his hand. "What are you staring at?"

The man dropped his arm and shook his head. "Nothing. It's rifles next, right?"

The marksman teams had continued to impress throughout the rifle stage of the firearm assessment, and Amory had continued to un-impress. Inuya had managed to repeat the exact same fluke, with one bullseye and four complete misses. His father hadn't been much better.

The western team had made the rifles look like toothpicks when using them, and seemed to lack the fine judgement and gentle hand required for the task. Edward suspected their giant muscular fingers didn't fit in the triggers.

Roy worked a lot better behind a rifle, that much was evident. His bullets had all hit the target this time, though each one was ever so slightly off.

Edward performed at a level expected from a genius amateur, with four hits. Roy imagined Hawkeye would be proud of the boy's talent, but experience the same tingling uneasiness he had.

Edward hadn't a clue how to use the rifle at first, but Roy had made quick work of explaining the basics.

"One hand here, the other here," he'd said, kneeling beside Edward and adjusting his grip. "Line it up like so and…check in here. When you're set, squeeze the trigger and bam, you're good. After you've fired, come get me and I'll show you how to reload."

Edward nodded and frowned, moving a hand to brush his bangs out of his eyes. "Okay."

Roy disappeared and popped back a second later with a cap in hand. He slapped it on Edward's head to hold the straggling hair out of the way.

"Mm. Thanks." Edward closed one eye and wriggled to grip his rifle better.

Roy had nodded and moved over to his own station.

Afterwards, they'd walked over to the Mess for dinner. They'd been made aware that the Schuylers and Rothfords wouldn't be joining them, those two teams preferring to eat privately in their accommodations.

Hughes had enthusiastically greeted Roy upon his arrival, messing his hair up with a fist and presenting him with a plate of quiche and peas.

Edward watched the man being towed away by his friend after he'd received an excited congratulation.

"Now, I know it isn't Gracia's quiche or anything, but I figured you could use a little reward for that crazy display this morning. Talk about the comp going off with a blast! Oh by the way, there's a whole stack o' papers in your office that need your signature exclusively…" Hughes' voice gradually faded.

"Hello, brother!"

Edward jumped at the tinny voice from just behind, turning to find himself face-to-chest plate with his younger brother.

"Yeesh, Al! You scared the crap outta me."

"Oops, sorry. Though you'd think you'd hear a massive suit of hollow armour approaching from the other side of the room, especially given that he's your brother."

"Oh, shut up."

The pair's conversation went by unnoticed and uninterrupted until Edward was once again ambushed by Tyrell.

"Hey, Ed and Al! You grabbing any eats, man?"

"Dammit, Tyrell! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Maybe you ought to be more observant?"

"I'm just hungry! I don't function well when I'm hungry!"

"Of course."

"I'm serious!"

The three wandered towards the front of the hall, where Edward grabbed a tray and piled it with everything they had to offer.

"You sure you can handle all that?" Tyrell asked, looking worried as Edward spooned a generous helping of baked beans onto the side.

"This is my brother we're talking about," Alphonse said with a sigh. "Have you seen him eat before? He's like a horse."

"Growing child," Edward retorted and stuck a chicken drumstick in his mouth. "Le's fai' shea's."

"Huh?"

"He said 'seats'."

"Oh, me and dad have some over there. Come on and sit with me!"

The three boys made their way to the table Tyrell had left his food at. Dominico was at the next table over, conversing with Inuya, Umaro and Ulfric.

"We didn't get much of a chance to catch up the other day, huh?" the young shaman remarked, taking a bite of his bread roll.

Edward shook his head, mouth stuffed with sausage.

Tyrell grinned. "So what have you been up to? And, er… Have you gotten any further in…you know what?"

There was a clatter as Edward dropped his chicken bone in surprise.

Tyrell frowned.

The blond boy shook his head. "My bad. I forgot you knew about…" He flapped his arms a bit. "…all this."

Alphonse started. "H-he does? You told him?"

Edward shook his head. "He figured it out."

"Figured it out…?"

Tyrell shrugged. "Bits and pieces is all. Edward associates trauma, loss and family with his arm and leg. There's a mental block regarding it as well. I asked him about it, but to his credit, all I know is that you two did something you shouldn't have."

Alphonse looked down slowly. "Then… Then do you know about me too?"

Tyrell nodded sombrely. "To be honest, I was frightened by you at first. I didn't know what to think."

"When did you notice?"

Tyrell looked at him. "The second I met you. Explains why I went so pale when I bumped into you in Kin Palace, right? For someone with an ability like mine, it's as clear as day."

Alphonse gulped and glanced around.

"But I wouldn't worry," Tyrell murmured. "Even amongst the most skilled of all the shaman in Orato, power like this is a rarity. There's probably only one person like me appears every odd century."

There was a brief silence at the table.

"Are… Are you still scared of me?" Alphonse asked timidly.

Tyrell blinked. He smiled. "Not at all. In fact, the presence of someone I can't read is something of a comfort now that I'm used to it."

"You can't read Al's mind?" Edward asked, surprised.

"My 'power' is a combination of reading body language, facial expressions, subtle physical hints, psychic auras and waves. Since Alphonse has no facial expressions or bodily signals, it's very limited what I can see physically," Tyrell explained. "And psychically…his waves are like static, like I'm hearing them underwater or through something. It's strange, but kind of nice."

Edward and Alphonse looked at the boy in wonder. Could he perhaps aid them in their pursuit?

"So, no. The only thing I can read from Alphonse is that there's no-one there at all." Tyrell frowned. "Or maybe like, half a person? Not sure. You on the other hand…"

Edward went red as Tyrell said, "I can tell you're thinking you can use my power to get some info on your situation."

The teen alchemist looked at his feet. "I… Is there any way you can tell me if it's possible to bring his body back?"

Tyrell's eyes clouded. "I'm sorry. All I can read is what is before my own eyes."

The atmosphere of the table darkened and Edward set down his toast. He'd lost his appetite suddenly.

The heavy air shifted a little as a tray of mashed potatoes and green beans appeared at the end of the table.

Edward blinked blankly. "Who…"

Then a pale face with jet black hair and nervous blue eyes appeared next to the tray from under the table. "Um."

"Felix?" Tyrell asked, surprised.

The boy nodded. "C-can I sit here? My dad's talking to your dad about all that army stuff I don't know about yet."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Tyrell slid over a little to give Felix some room and the boy climbed onto the bench next to him.

"Thank you," he said. "What's your name again?"

"It's Tyrell," the boy said, leaning on his elbow. "And I'm a shaman. You know these two, I guess?"

"Yeah," Felix nodded. "Ed and Al. The little brother who's really big and the big brother who's really little."

Barely any heads turned at Edward's screeched reply to that statement. Many of the soldiers were used to hearing the boy's height rants by now and they all knew that you did not, under any circumstances, try to back the poor guy on the receiving end.

Though where even seasoned soldiers would have flinched at Edward's hollering, Felix giggled and covered his mouth.

"Somethin' funny, kid?" Edward grumbled.

"Your face goes really red when you shout," Felix remarked.

The comment made Edward flush again, though out of embarrassment this time.

Alphonse snickered and Tyrell joined in.

"Better keep your mouth shut, Ed," the shaman said. "If Roy hears you again, he might just come marching over here and give you a good ear warming."

"Tch!" Edward folded his arms on the table and put his chin in the middle, chewing on a spoon. "Like I give a damn."

"What was that, Fullmetal?"

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Tyrell mused sagely. He jumped in surprise at the soft contact of Felix grabbing his sleeve and shrinking away from Roy.

The colonel gave an impassive blink the boy's timid motion before looking back at Edward.

"I came over here to tell you not to bother waiting for me after dinner," the man said. "And what should I hear but the infamous Fullmetal once again running his mouth about how he's such a tough guy."

Edward bared his teeth. "Feh."

"Anyway," Roy continued, grabbing the boy's fork and pinching a sausage off his plate before he could protest. "I have some errands to run tonight, so feel free to sleep with your brother. I won't be back until late, so do as you wish with your time. Just please don't trash the dorm."

"I wouldn't!" snapped Edward. "And give my sausage back, you mangy State dog!"

"Once again, Fullmetal," Roy said haughtily as he turned. "The pot calling the kettle black."

The colonel bit the end of the sausage and strode off.

"Damn bastard," Edward grumbled. "Took my bloody fork."

"Shhh, Ed," Tyrell reprimanded. "No swearing! There's a kid in our midst."

"Hey! I'm eleven!" protested Felix. "I'm not a little kid anymore!"

Edward nodded knowingly. "Yeah. By the time I was eleven, I already knew more swearwords than Mustang does at twenty-whatever."

Tyrell shrugged. "Yeah, me too actually. Considering I come from a city full of drunken sailors."

Alphonse nodded. "And us a town of rowdy farmers."

Edward twitched an eyebrow. "Are you trying to say you actually know how to cuss, Alphonse?"

There was a giggle from inside the armour. "Just because I have the decency not to swear at everything doesn't mean I couldn't if I wanted to!"

Edward sweated. "So all this time I've had a brother who's just as foul-mouthed as me."

"Now I wouldn't say that."

"Foul-minded then?"

"Mmm…no."

"C'mon, Al! Ya gotta have some sort of fatal flaw!"

"Yeah. I'm related to you."

"Gack! How could you say that?!"

"You know I'm only kidding, brother."

"…Hmph."

"Heehee."

Tyrell smiled to himself. These two are incredibly close. Completely different from myself and Livio.

For a moment, the young shaman pondered what it would be like to be close to his older brother. He ended up deciding that it would be strange and probably quite boring, given Livio's duties as crown prince.

I'm quite content to watch these two, Tyrell thought. They're an entertaining pair, alright!

Edward blinked a couple of times. His normally bright golden eyes were hidden from the world under a haze of darkness, his expression lost in the night. His thoughts and feelings would have gone unnoticed too, had Alphonse Elric not been present.

Because darkness doesn't obscure the heart, and we don't see emotion with our eyes.

"Brother?"

A quick silence fell as Edward contemplated pretending to be asleep. He kicked this thought away at the reminder Alphonse knew him better than that.

"Yeah?"

"You're awake…"

"Mm." Edward decided against the sarcastic retort he had formulated.

"What are you thinking?"

From the top bunk, the big brother rolled onto his side. He could lie. He could just say he was reminiscing. No… Al would see through it.

As he considered how to respond to that, Alphonse answered for him. "You're thinking about the colonel, aren't you?"

Edward grunted.

"What about him?"

After another silence, Edward replied, "He arrived back in our dorm three hours ago. That was eleven. Since then, he hasn't even turned the light off."

"Were you awake the whole time?" Alphonse asked, glancing out the tint window at Edward and Roy's dorm. His brother was right; there were indeed lights on in the room.

"No. I've been dozing on and off. But the clock on the wall ticks really strangely and it keeps waking me up. And every time I look at it, it tells me Mustang's going to be more and more tired come tomorrow." The iridium-tipped hands of that very clock moved closer towards three o'clock with every second.

"And you'll be tired too."

"Yeah, I'll be tired too."

The pair fell quiet.

"…Bro?"

"Mm?"

"Just checking."

Edward's eyes narrowed on the ceiling he could barely see. "I think I might go see what's up."

Alphonse's armour clanked. "Really?"

The bed creaked as Edward sat up. "Yeah. I mean, he'll drag us both down if he's too braindead to compete well tomorrow."

"I see…"

Edward twitched his limbs awake and made for the ladder, latching on to it with his hands and dropping to the cold ground. As he reached the door, he said, "Right. I'll be back in just a moment."

"Okay."

For all the heat of the day, East City's nights were deceptively cold.

Edward shivered in his shorts and thin muscle shirt as he dashed across the concrete to the dorm opposite. Little pebbles crunched under his auto-mail and dug painfully into his flesh foot. The light breeze caught his loose blond hair and blew it off his shoulders. He could smell grass on the wind and feel the prickle of the hair on his arms rising in a bid to keep him warm.

The world was a whole myriad of sensations most would take for granted, once which Edward vowed to return to his little brother.

"Knock knock, coming in," he muttered as he reached the other dorm, twisting the handle and stepping in out of the cold.

He glanced around the room, spotting Roy slumped over a desk in the corner. He wondered how many times in his life Roy had fallen asleep on a desk.

The boy walked cautiously up behind his superior, running his eyes over what covered the surface of the small table. He recalled Hughes saying something about papers that needed Roy's signature – these must be them.

There were two neat stacks in front of the colonel, one complete and one still needing signed. There was a single sheet half under his face, still with wet ink. He hadn't been out long.

Edward always thought it was weird to see Roy asleep. For a long time, he'd assumed the man was some kind of strange, inhuman creature that just interrupted his life without sleeping or eating or doing anything except paperwork.

Apparently not.

The Fullmetal Alchemist shook himself out of those memories and reached out to tap Roy's shoulder, seeing no reason to let him continue sleeping so uncomfortably. "Hey. Hey, Colonel…"

Roy snapped awake, grabbing Edward's hand and swinging. The colonel caught his punch an inch away from the blond teen's nose and confusion flickered across his drowsy features. The two held a gaze for a couple of seconds as the situation dawned on the colonel.

"Lucky you stopped there," said Edward surprisingly calmly as Roy let go of his hand, looking shocked. "My auto-mail is at your stomach."

"Y-yeah." Roy blinked a few times, trying to gather his wits. "My apologies. I have no idea what got into me."

Edward shrugged. "I snuck up on you. And, er…"

"What?"

"You've got some…ink on you…" Edward twirled his finger at his face.

Roy grimaced and rubbed his cheek. "Damn."

After semi-successfully removing the black smudges from his skin, the colonel raised an eyebrow at his young charge. "Why are you in here?"

"Came to see why the lights were still on," Edward explained. "I didn't want you to be too tired for tomorrow's event."

Roy nodded. "Fair enough. Couldn't you sleep either?"

Edward shook his head. "On and off. The clock in there bugs me."

"You could always take it down."

Edward shook his head again. "Alphonse likes the sound of clocks."

Roy stretched and rose to his feet. "I see."

"Though I don't think I'll be able to get back to sleep again," Edward admitted.

Roy closed his eyes. He was exhausted, he'd say that much. But Edward needed sleep more than he did, and the thought of the kid suffering through the hours until dawn pretending he was asleep for his brother's sake wasn't one that appealed to him at all.

The colonel smirked, opening his eyes on Edward's curious face. "Feel like taking a walk with me, then?"

Have these chapters all been really short or is it just me? I have to speed up here… Good thing the next chapter's perfect for it! ):D

So anyway, happy birthday to my good friend Toph Hitsugaya (check her out if you're into Bleach or Hetalia – her current baby is a Soul Eater mental hospital fic that I can recommend if you like that stuff)! I hope you had a totally awesomesauce day!

And I just feel like asking, which fictional characters do you guys think you're the most like? Out of curiosity…

And that's that for now! (Also, does anyone else think Havoc dyed his hair brown and snuck into AoT to be Jean? I mean, they basically have the same name and everything!)

ZAKURO AWAAAY!