You know why I need ODM gear? So I can hang from the ceiling and steal the food from the reception desk beneath the staircase in the CPA.

And you know why FMA is awesome? 'Cause the people in this world who get teased for being nerds in this world are the freakin' badasses in that one.

Sorry I'm kinda late, I got side tracked by school and annoying stuff. Apparently I'm supposed to do work or something…

In my most recent poll, subbed anime won over dubbed anime six to one. Vic Mignogna had four points. XD Personally I like dubs 'cause it's easier for me to connect to, but I love hearing the Japanese voices too. I'll always watch at least a few episodes of the sub in any anime.

Anyway, here you go! Apply my usual disclaimer to the Ishbal parts. :)

"Mustang, this area has been cleared. We're moving back to Comman… Mustang?"

"Y… Yes." Roy stared straight ahead. "I'll be there."

Lieutenant Blake sighed. "Major? Is there something wrong?"

The young man nodded, not taking his eyes off the carnage before him. "There's nothing."

Fallen warriors littered the street, Ishbalan and Amestrian, both sides equalled in death. Bloodstained sashes and tattered uniforms marked the difference in race, but all blood was the same crimson red no matter whose side you were on.

Roy could pick his kills by the sears and burns marking them. So many of them. Whole streets' worth of corpses. He hated it. No-one else had to suffer through looking back at the battlefield, looking back and knowing whose lives they'd ended.

No-one else but the snipers, he reminded himself as he thought of the young Miss Hawkeye, whom Ishbal had turned into another killer. Why did everything end up like this?

"If nothing's wrong then we need to move on now, Major."

"There's nothing…nothing out there. Everything's wrong with the situation." Roy clenched his fists. Fighting and dying and killing…and what for? A useless patch of land we barely want? Does anyone understand this?

Blake noticed the tremble in Roy's gloved hands and grabbed the younger man's shoulder. Under his breath, he muttered, "Let's get you back to base for repairs. Hate it when our weapons go breaking down on us."

Roy stared at the scene a moment longer, his teeth gritted tight and his eyes set in a frown. Then he flicked his head down and turned to leave, following after the officer.

"Davis!" Blake called as he led Roy through a battle-weary crowd drifting back to their safe zone. All were too exhausted and through with fighting after that long stretch of battle that they felt only the slightest twinge of sadness for fallen comrades and the tiniest stab of guilty relief that they'd made it through.

"Davis!" he repeated and the man snapped to attention. "Find out if Lieutenant Colonel Egger has returned from his duties in the Karanam district. If he's not busy, send him to the material supply tent. Our flamethrower may be faulty again."

The young sergeant nodded. "And if he's busy?"

"Find Captain Hughes. We can't have Mustang out of action for too long; we need him for Totara. He's too much of an asset. All of the alchemists are. We can't lose any more of them like we lost that coward Armstrong. It's imperative we keep them all in fighting condition – even if it's just blind destruction."

Roy stood motionlessly behind his current commander, staring onwards. I'm right here, you know. I can hear you talking. Talking about us like we're just some other weapons to help you with your damn genocide. I hate it. But it's not like it matters, is it? No. We just need to mindlessly obey orders until we've won what looks like a pointless war.

"You can take your leave now, Mustang," said Blake with a turn of his head. "We're moving in to claim what's left of Totara as soon as the Karanam scouting platoons have regrouped. Be ready to leave in a couple of hours."

"Sir." Roy gave a tired salute to show he'd heard and walked off towards his usual hiding place. The material supply tent was the only place where he was hardly ever disturbed – who could bother with replacing a uniform that would just get bloodied or torn again anyway? And who really wanted to wear those damned cloaks? It was too hot for it all and dirt just camouflaged them even better. He wasn't bothered there, but they knew where to find him when they needed him.

The young man stepped inside the tent, vaguely grateful for the meagre coolness the shade offered. The air may not be as hot and stifling in here as outside, but it still reeked of blood and gunpowder.

Once he'd made himself suitably invisible on the floor between two crates at the back of the tent, he pulled his cloak over his head and closed his eyes.

"I've had enough," he said to himself. "I want out."

No you don't.

"I do."

Why?

"I don't want to fight any more. I don't want to kill for a living."

Are you sure? I thought you'd picked this path for yourself 'no matter where it took you'.

"I never thought it would come to this…"

You became a soldier thinking you'd never have to go to war? Ridiculous. You're a fool, Roy Mustang.

"If I am, that makes you one too."

Yes. Given that I'm just you reasoning with yourself. Which may also make us a little bit mad.

"What are you talking about?" Roy pressed his forehead to his dusty knees. "I've been mad since the day I thought I could use alchemy to actually help the world…"

Good point. Roy gave up on his argument and settled for silent reflection. He was so sick of it all, so sick of always being on edge and never being able to forget the battlefield. And he was tired too. He didn't even bother with rest any more. Who had the time (or nerve) for it?

"I've had enough," he muttered, finally cracking. "Let me go home… I can't go home…"

Fire.

Fire and guns and pain and screaming and terror.

Wails of children ripped the hot air to shreds and the screeches of their mothers diced the remains. The constant rapping of gunfire drilled into his head as his fingers ached. He forced them together again and a wave of pain tore through his body as a ravaged village erupted in white-hot flames.

Starting from his hard rubber boots, the flames burnt red and angry up towards his body. They clawed at his trousers with the hands of long-dead comrades and they screamed with the voices of a murdered race.

They seared up to his chest and licked at his neck with the heat of a dead warrior's fury and gave a dry, hissing whisper of, "Burn you, child of the devil," right in his ear.

Fire exploded behind his eyes and Roy cried out, reaching for a bright sliver of salvation.

He coughed weakly, a scared, broken sound as he lowered his trembling hand from its outstretched post.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep.

Curling ever tighter into himself, his whole body shuddered uncontrollably. He couldn't hope to check his watch for the time as his hands were shaking too hard to open it.

"Why did I drag myself into this mess anyway? Protection my foot." He laughed hollowly. "I murder our own citizens…and there's no going back now."

"You're right about that one, Major."

Roy looked upwards with a start.

The man standing before him looked down towards where he sat, flicking a lighter at his chin. He sighed and stuffed it back in his pocket as it failed to ignite.

"I'm outta gas," he said.

Roy looked back down at his feet. "Did you come here just for a light or are there orders for me?"

Lieutenant Colonel Luon Egger settled for simply chewing on his cigarette as he replied, "Like I told Hughes, it wouldn't please me to have you light my cigarette. So I guess I'm without smoke."

"Your smoke would taste of blood if you had me light it, right?" Roy muttered. "So why did you come here, Colonel?"

"No reason," he replied. "Same no reason as ever."

"They told you to come?" asked Roy. "They think I'm going to commit desertion or insubordination like Armstrong?"

Egger nodded. "Something like that. They want to check if you're still reliable. They wouldn't talk to you themselves. So who better to talk to a devil than one of his own?" The man traced a finger over the transmutation circle tattooed on his palm.

"Check on me?" Roy repeated. "Well, I've got some words for them then. Number one, do they take us for idiots? Do they think we can't hear them whispering about us behind our backs? 'Those State dogs', they say, 'How many people they can kill in one fell swoop'. Number two, I won't desert. I won't give up. I don't want to lay down and die. I don't want to fight either, but where am I going to go? And three, why? Why are we fighting? Why can't they give us a break? Why is everyone just dying?"

He finished with a rough snap, his fists clenched on top of his knees. "Why is that?" he asked again, quieter, as if his anger had suddenly dissipated. Now that he'd voiced them to another person, his complaints seemed as fickle and pointless as ever.

Egger looked down at him, an almost pitying look on his face. And he might have pitied the man, had he too not been in the same situation.

"Feels like all you want is a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, am I right?" he asked. "Just a few hours of rest, a few hours of blankness where you can pretend it's not happening?"

Roy's fists shook.

"Newsflash, Major," Egger continued. "It is happening. And it's too late now. You're probably killing yourself on the inside, but there's no time for that. We're all involved in this and no matter how much you pretend, you have blood on your hands." He crouched down and placed a hand on Roy's trembling fists. "The best you can do is cover it with those gloves and get out alive. Maybe then we can think about repent." His voice was firm, but the colonel's eyes wavered as if he had trouble believing in his own words.

It should have shaken Roy, but nowadays it seemed like no-one was sure of anything anymore. All apart from Hughes, whose only desire seemed to be the touch of his faraway lover. If only Roy had been granted the same amount of strength, trust in love and pure hope he had been. The younger man clenched his jaw tight, his dark eyes staring at nothing with a blank look of despair.

"You're scared. Everyone is. But we need you. Your men need you. We can't do it without your talent. And the sooner we get it over with, the sooner we'll be back in our own beds in our own towns with our families. Then we can worry about these things."

The man rose to his full height and turned to leave. "Come on now. No more moping. We need you."

Roy stood slowly, watching the officer walk towards the tent entrance.

"After this, I don't even know if I'll be able to go back," he said with a sigh.

Guess a part of me was right. Though I did come back, I'm not the same person I was beforehand.

Roy was sprawled across the bottom bunk, a pen in his mouth and a sheet of paperwork in his hands. He held it in front of his face, frowning at it. After reading over most of the drilling manifesto of pointlessness, he rubbed his eyes and shifted the pen around to the other side of his mouth.

I wonder… He thought for a moment. Could I sign my name with the pen in my mouth?

He was about to attempt it when there was a rough knock at the door and a muffled, "I'm coming in!"

Roy dropped the pen at his side and sat up as Edward sauntered in. The colonel noticed a definite purpose to the boy's laid-back stride.

"Hey," he greeted.

Roy nodded in return, quickly scrawling his name onto the sheet and tossing it aside. What exactly was it again? Oh, who really cared…?

"You want something?" the colonel asked, looking up as he walked over.

Edward scowled and thumped himself down on the bed next to Roy. "What kind of a question's that? Maybe I just felt like your company! You've been hiding away working and signing and appointment-ing for ages!"

"That's because I've realised how little time I have left before we leave the base. Unless I want to come back and be drowned in the papers Hughes will kindly set aside for me, I'd best make as much of a start as I can. So what do you want?"

Edward glowered briefly, then shrugged and blew out a sigh. "How do you do that? Every time…"

Roy smiled to himself and gave his head a twitch. "Maybe all your books have rubbed off on you and made you just as easy to read."

"In which case only a skilled alchemist would be able to make sense of me…"

"And am I not a skilled alchemist?"

"Good point."

The two sat there for a moment, side by side, before Roy shuffled backwards and pressed his back to the wall, folding his arms. "Anyway. To what do I owe this visit?"

Edward turned to face him. "You still never answered my question," he replied with a disgruntled look. "About why you're acting wonky."

Roy looked at his lap. "Oh, right."

"So will you answer?"

"Sure. I'll try anyway." He straightened up, thought for a moment and finally replied, "Well, I guess it was more a combination of several factors. I had a lot of work to deal with and we'd be moving soon, not to mention all the high ranking-officers wandering around base, so you can imagine I wasn't exactly what one would consider relaxed. Couple that with the fact I had a lot of stuff on my mind and you have your answer."

"Oh." Edward gave a nod of comprehension. "Y'know, you're pretty good at all that feeling stuff. Uh…good job."

"Thanks?"

Edward flipped his legs onto the bed and laid down, settling himself. His braid pressed annoyingly into his head so he undid it, scooping up his blond mop and tying it off to one side not unlike the style remembered his mother having worn.

"Ugh," he grunted. "I'm tired. That stupid run was exhausting! And so boring!"

"Yeah. Didn't take you for much of a runner."

"I'm not. I'm a fighter. Though I gotta say, you didn't strike me as the type who'd make it through to the end either."

"Guess we're just full of surprises," Roy concluded as Edward put his arms behind his head in a bid to get comfy.

There was a lull in the conversation where Roy leant his head back against the wall. He pulled out his watch. Four-thirty…

"You had dinner yet?" he asked.

"Mm-hm," came the reply. "You?"

"Not hungry. Had some coffee and that was good enough."

"Geez. You and your stupid coffee…" Edward closed his eyes. "Hey. What was on your mind all that time then?"

Roy glanced at the boy, who was drowsing quite happily on the military regulation quilts. "Just…things."

"What kind of things?"

"Adult things."

"Can you tell me?"

"You're fifteen."

"That's almost an adult. And I'm curious. Tell me."

"Oh, I don't remember. It was nothing important."

Edward shuffled closer, rubbing his metal elbow against Roy's folded legs. "Tell meeee… I wanna knoooow…"

"Ed…"

"If you're going to think about me, I at least want to know what it is."

"H-how…?"

"You're like a book sometimes too," said Edward with a grin. "Roy."

The colonel blew out his cheeks. "That's not funny."

"It is when you're me. Now tell me."

"Why should I tell you if you're annoying me?"

"Because you value my presence in your life and such?"

Roy sighed. He'd been cursed with a kid who never stopped yammering 'til he got what he wanted. Edward's persistence was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

"Alright," Roy grumbled in conceit and Edward gave a smug grin. "I'll admit it was a matter concerning yourself."

"Keep going."

"I really don't want to. There are some things I'd rather keep to myself."

"Well, you can't just not tell me now that you've come this far!" argued Edward. "Fine then. If you tell me, I'll tell you something interesting."

Roy rolled his eyes. "What could you possibly know that could interest me?"

"You'll have to wait and see!"

"Then I suppose I'll never know."

Edward raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Are you sure? 'Cause I might just know how to make Hughes shut up about his wife and daughter. Guess you're missing out!"

That caught Roy's attention. The man frowned darkly. "You've withheld such valuable information for how long?"

"A while. Now, talk."

Roy cleared his throat and sat up straight. "This is slightly harder to say, and you probably won't be happy to hear it either, but…for a while I was worried I'd made the wrong choice back when I volunteered to…raise…to help you. Don't get me wrong – it's not that I don't want to do it, more like…"

Edward's grin had vanished now, replaced with a serious expression. His eyebrows drew close to one another in a show of concentrated curiosity and he tilted his head a little more in Roy's direction. The man didn't like talking about the whole father-son thing at all. Which was fine with Edward, since he didn't either. The pair of them were doers, not speakers.

"…I was concerned I'd made an error in judgement thinking someone in my…circumstance…was actually capable of…fostering a person…you know?"

Edward closed his eyes and turned his face to the top bunk once again. "Are you kidding? There are a million ways this kind of situation has worked before, right? I mean, your best friend is a perfect example."

Roy looked away. "But Hughes isn't the Flame Alchemist, Hero of the Ishballan Massacre. He's…" He's different. He's a better man than I am.

Edward scowled again. "You're an idiot."

Roy blinked.

"You're an idiot 'cause you never trust your own feelings. You take all those gut instincts and turn 'em into these tangles of logic. And sure it works as a fighter and a strategist, but there are times where it doesn't. Al and Winry taught me that the hard way."

Roy shrugged. "But—"

"No 'but's about it. Screw logic. The decision was made, and I'm happy with it. When you're second guessing yourself about it, you show you don't trust your feelings and you don't trust me. And I could have sworn you said you did."

Edward's fist appeared in front of Roy's chest. "Now bump it or I'll hit you. 'Cause who better to trust in this than me, right? I'm the one who'll end up losing if we screwed up. And besides, I'm just as scratched and dented as you, so you're the best role model I've got."

"I don't want you to lose, Ed," replied Roy quietly. "I don't want to be responsible for breaking you if things go downhill. That's why I was concerned."

"Bump," demanded Edward. "I'm harder to break than you seem to think."

"I know," came the soft reply. "That's why I decided to keep my promise."

Edward smiled as he felt Roy's hand meet his. "Good. 'Cause I think it'd hurt more if you turned your back on me now." He sat up and shuffled even closer, grabbing Roy's shoulder tightly with one hand. "So there – no getting out!"

"Wasn't planning on it, kid. Sorry I doubted your judgement."

"It's fine. I'd doubt my own judgement if I weren't so smart." Edward started fiddling with the gold braid on Roy's shoulder, twisting it and finally discovering how it was attached to his uniform.

"So, what's your part of the deal?"

Edward grinned. "Something interesting, right? Here's a fact; ninety-eight percent of teens lie to their parents. Isn't that right, dad?"

Roy glared. "I really should have seen that coming."

"I got you to talk without even having to cash in that undeniable favour I won from you." Edward pursed his lips. "As far as I'm aware, there is no known process in the world that can make Hughes stop talking about his family."

"Thought as much." Roy stretched out as far as he could over the foot of the bed, grabbing a chunk off the top of a small stack of papers on a chair by the bunk. He didn't have much to go now. "I'll keep working. It's up to you whether you stay or go."

"I'll stay here. Alphonse and Tyrell are in the other dorm talking about possible medical applications of alchemy and different techniques from Orato, something I'm not interested in at all. I'd rather not think about how people used to say a needle in the ear gave you the power to hear the sea god."

Roy grimaced and instinctively shrugged his collar higher. "Nice," he said with an expression that read the complete opposite.

"That's what I said." Edward abandoned the uniform and stood as tall as he could on the bed, reaching up to grab a book off his bunk. He settled back down at Roy's side and flicked it open, comfortably losing himself within the rambling alchemical jargon that was the language of his people.

"My arms are still killing me from yesterday," complained Roy, half to himself as he approved another semi-unknown project. Something about the purchase of copper ropes for a long needed repair…

"Mine too," replied Edward distantly, scanning the pages of his book. "Well, one of 'em."

Roy tapped his pen against his next document, splatting ink over some of it. With a grunt, he moved the offending pen out of harm's way – between his teeth.

Edward glanced up as he turned a page. "Did you ever try signing anything with your mouth?"

"No," Roy replied around the pen with a firm shake of his head. "Tha's ridiculous."

"Hmph. Whatever." A yawn followed this.

"Don' tell me you're tired already?"

"No. Just… The bed's comfy."

"I see."

The two continued their quiet work with only the occasional interruption, just brief conversations they shared to temporarily differ from the lines of black and white.

"I personally think it's all a conspiracy," said Roy eventually. "Because I don't even see why it's necessary to write up this many sheets of paper. There has to be someone somewhere that's sitting and thinking up all this stuff just to annoy me, because it just doesn't seem logical to need this many forms. Am I right?"

At a lack of snide remarks, Roy turned his head. "Ed? Are—"

He smiled. "Oh. So this is how it is now, is it? I'm just a convenient pillow?"

The colonel turned back to his papers, scrawling his name again as Edward slept soundly, a book resting on his face as he leant back on Roy's shoulder.

Ten minutes or so later, the clock struck five thirty and Roy had finally finished his whole stack. That was all he could do before he left the work to slowly pile up in his absence. The thought of it made him feel sick.

He stretched his left arm and yawned quietly, being that the slumbering Edward was attached to his other side.

With a gentle hand, the man removed the book from his young charge's face and tugged the band from the last little tuft of hair Edward had tied off.

Blond bangs trailed over the boy's face and shoulders like sunlight spilling over morning dew. To the watching man, the boy looked just as fragile as those gleaming drops that decorated the grass at dawn. He'd heard it said a hundred times that people always looked so vulnerable in sleep, and every time he saw Edward like this, he knew exactly what they meant by it. And of all the types of people, no-one looked quite as exposed or delicate as a sleeping child.

With as soft a touch as his scarred hands could manage, Roy supported Edward's side as he slipped out and eased the boy down.

"I'm going to file all these papers," he told him quietly, despite knowing he wouldn't be heard. "I'll be back soon."

He reached out and gently brushed a tuft of gold off Edward's forehead. The teen stirred a little, but didn't awaken.

"Just you rest," the colonel said as he slipped outside with all the papers he could fit inside his briefcase stuffed away and a tall stack wedged tightly under his arm.

"C'mo-o-on! You can't just disappear to the North on me without at least going out for a drink first!"

"I said 'no', Hughes." Roy dropped a pile of papers onto his desk, his desk which Hughes had made himself a little too comfortable with. There were already photographs and boot-prints all over the wooden surface, as well as the case files for several of the man's current 'projects'. "Any other time and I'd happily take up your request, but unfortunately I have some interferences that prevent me from doing so."

"You're no fun," said Hughes with a pout, adjusting his glasses as he scanned a new file. This was an Eastern case, though one that had caught his attention. The jailbreak of a familiar name was all it took to pique his curiosity.

Roy glanced at the sheet in his friend's hand, not paying the name much more notice than a twitch of his eyebrows. "In case it has somehow escaped your attention, I am in the middle of quite an important inter-martial event. If what you did to me last time should reoccur…" he shuddered. "Besides, I've left Edward by himself asleep back in the dorm."

"Aww, you don't want your absence to scare him when he wakes up?" crooned Hughes, somewhat teasingly.

"No, I don't want my absence to give him an excuse to mess the place up," came the response as Roy flicked through the documents. He took a chunk off the top, slipped it inside a nearby filing cabinet and said, "Give the rest of those to Hawkeye. She should know what to do with them."

"I'll assume you don't."

Roy scowled. "I'm going down to the Officer's Branch with some other documents. I'll have to take you up on that drink some other time."

"Alright fine, but I'll remember this. If you refuse next time I come in with an offer like that, I'll drag you out of the office by your collar."

"Whatever," called Roy over his shoulder as Hughes grabbed the phone. "Tell Gracia I send my greetings."

Hughes grinned as he dialled in a number. "Will do!"

Roy left his office and headed down a corridor with his briefcase in tow, the intention of dumping the dastardly load with the branch that had sent it through before heading back to the dorm front and foremost in his mind. He momentarily noted how odd it was that he hadn't bumped into Hawkeye all day. It seemed strange not to have her by his side. She was almost always there to follow his every order, so the fact that he was now wandering the base unguarded was a little unnerving.

Dammit, he hadn't even brought his ignition gloves with him.

This was bad. If someone were to attack him now… As unlikely as it was, Roy couldn't shake the sense of edgy vulnerability that stalked him down the corridor. Being alone made for a very disadvantageous position. The realisation of his current exposure gradually worsened as he continued down the halls.

Which was why he wasn't happy in the slightest when he spotted Amory Schuyler standing right in front of the door he needed to enter.

He quickly considered making a complete U-turn and turning the paperwork in another day, but this and any other plan he might have conceived crumbled in his head as the young alchemist spotted him.

"Hey," he said in that voice that was barely past breaking.

Roy glanced left and right, but failed to distinguish any living being (or even bench) in the corridor apart from himself. He frowned in puzzlement.

"Yeah, you," said Amory. "Good afternoon."

Roy nodded slowly. "The same to you…"

For the first time, Roy noticed the teen had something in his hands. It was a little book, and from the way the alchemist scribbled over it, obviously not one for reading.

"Puzzles." Amory caught Roy staring and turned the book, revealing a page of half-solved crosswords. "I don't like boredom."

Roy nodded, his eyes still narrowed. For all he knew, that book could contain a compilation of intel on the other teams just ready to destroy them all. "I see."

There was a quick, awkward pause.

"Since when were you so chummy, kid?" the colonel said, finally breaking the silence.

"Since dad left the vicinity," replied Amory, jotting something down in his book. "He seems to expect me to hate you as much as he does. I just act it so he won't lecture me – you've done nothing to me. I don't give a rat's about you, personally."

A drop of sweat formed quite conspicuously on Roy's cheek and he gave a disgruntled, "Hm."

Or perhaps Kambei had just made Roy too paranoid.

"No offense." Amory scrawled another word onto his page with a victorious nod. His expression darkened a second later as he muttered something under his breath.

The door behind them opened and General Schuyler stepped out with a bundle of letters in his hands. He saw Roy and his expression turned sour.

Roy scowled. The feeling's mutual.

"Ambrosios," the older man said decisively. "We're going."

"Amory," the teen complained, closing his book. "In fact, Major Schuyler would be nice."

"I will call you the name your mother gave you," Theodore insisted as he started off. With a curt nod to Roy, he added bitterly, "Have a good evening with your brat, Colonel."

"With all due respect, General, Edward is no more a brat than I am a fool. And I know I'm not, as I was sharp enough to shut down the south-east child slavery business before you and your impressive intellectual experience could beat me to it." Roy tapped his briefcase as Theodore sneered at him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some work to manage."

"Pretty sure you picked the name," Amory muttered in the background.

Theodore turned away after a moment's hesitation and strode off in a huff. He beckoned for Amory to follow.

The teen shoved his little book in his pocket and shrugged at Roy before following. "Seeya 'round."

He caught up to his father, a frown drawing his eyebrows close. "That's right… I couldn't care less about you, Colonel."

His voice dropped lower so even Theodore was guaranteed to miss it.

"It's the Fullmetal Alchemist with whom I have a bone to pick."

Death forever surrounds the bearer of Flame, from the striker of the flint to the final dying ember.

It was always a gasp after a night like that.

A gasp like he'd been underwater, then suddenly found himself lying in his bed shrouded in dawn's weak attempt at light.

But there was no light here. And this wasn't his bed. It was too soft, soft like he could get swallowed up and suffocated. And dark, dark like he was blindfolded with no idea where he was or who he was up against.

His gasp had started a cycle, a cycle of wheezing and coughing. If he stopped thinking about his quick breathing, he'd stop breathing entirely.

A sense of terror consumed and clawed away at his limbs, icy nails digging at his skin as a sensation like being poisoned turned his stomach inside out. There were chains around his chest, constricting his movement and breathing.

Where was this? What was going on? He'd been taken, hadn't he? And now he was going to die. He'd been given some poison to send him into cardiac arrest, obviously. But wait…

There.

One second was all it took.

In that one second of clarity, Roy regained his memory and reorganised his thoughts. He had the sense to call out.

"E…Edward…? Edward?"

Nothing.

No, dammit, no, then where was this?

"Unnngh… Nnh…" There was a creak from somewhere above. "Mmeah…? Sah…mornin' already? Ugh…"

A shaky sigh. It's okay… Only the dorm.

There was a series of squeaks from the bed, clanks from auto-mail and groans from a sleepy teenager. A slurred cuss at a stubbed toe.

Click.

Roy jumped, the noise of the light setting his mind racing with thoughts of cocked guns.

Edward squinted in the stabbing light, grabbing the switch like it was some incredible checkpoint. "Ugh. Hello."

He blinked and rubbed his eyes, a little spark of concern making itself known in the boy's chest. "Mustang?"

The colonel in question was hunched over himself in his bunk, his shoulders twitching and one hand pressed tight to his chest. Edward could clearly see his body heaving with each breath.

"C-co… Roy? Are you okay?" Edward abandoned his switch and trotted back to the bed. He ducked to the level of Roy's bed and grabbed hold of a handy pole.

The man nodded, moving his hand to tangle it in the fabric of his grey singlet. "F-fine," he whispered. "I'm fine."

Edward grabbed his shoulder, feeling it shaking under his grip. "Are you sure? You don't want me to call someone?"

"N-no." Roy reached up with his free hand to rub his face and proceed to run that hand through his hair. "Just… Can you do me a favour and…just-just be quiet for a moment…"

Edward's hand loosened and he nodded. "S-sure. I'll just wait out there…"

Roy caught his hand before he could walk out.

"…but don't leave. I just need you to stay here."

Edward nodded again. He gently removed his hand and sat down on the bed, his back pressed against Roy's. He sat still for a quick moment and almost fell back into a state of sleep.

He shook himself awake softly. "Roy?"

"I'm good," came the reply. "Sorry about that."

"Don't apologise, you moron. It ain't your fault."

Early morning quiet filled the air for a moment. Roy breathed deeply, glad to be back to normal but nervous about what his previous terror signified.

Edward turned his head a little way. "Did something set you off?"

"Nightmare," replied Roy with disdain. "Been thinking too much of late…about…you know what. Woke up somewhere unfamiliar, panicked."

Edward lowered his head a little, propping his chin on his palm. "Well, at least you know it wasn't random. That's good. And this is the first time since Kambei?"

"Mm-hm."

"What are you gonna do?" Edward asked quietly.

"I don't know," Roy admitted, running his hand through his hair again. "We're setting off north soon, so the best I can do is hope I'll be alright with it, I guess…"

"We could ask Tyrell," suggested Edward.

"We could," he agreed. "I think I will. His input might be helpful."

Edward turned to stand up, stretching his flesh arm and glancing back at his superior.

The man was glaring emptily at the mattress, as if he was trying to place the blame on it but couldn't shake the fingers pointing towards him.

For a long time, Roy had been a very distant and solid figure in Edward's life. All that had changed in the course of two weeks.

The colonel had always seemed to stand above others, guiding and ordering like he always knew exactly what he was doing. He seemed to have it together, so all-knowing, stoic and consistent that he'd fooled Edward into thinking he was permanently the one in control.

Granted, Roy did have a penchant for getting his hands on strings no-one else saw, but Edward had mistakenly assumed the man had already solved each issue of his own before so easily stretching out his mind and making others dance to his will.

He'd seemed like the ultimate puppet master to a younger Edward. The teen now realised that the man with the strings was no more than a puppet himself, tormented so viciously by the master of his strings that he'd fought and pulled against them until he had just enough slack to work with. He'd used his hard-won freedom to build a team of fighters worthy of his dancing fingers, but it didn't change the fact that his strings could still be pulled taught by whoever stood over him.

And all that fighting came with a price. That hard work had a painful rebound. Roy was fighting a long battle with a double-edged sword, often getting cut by his choice of weapon in the form of the extra danger and workload he had to accept, the oppressing hatred of jealous superiors, the anxiety he felt for the lives of his comrades and of course the constantly burning memories he'd had to shoulder.

Two short weeks was all it had taken to wipe the false image from Edward's eyes and show him the colonel had vulnerabilities too, weaknesses all too familiar to those the boy clutched to his own heart.

A part of him wished he hadn't witnessed this part of the man. His fearless image, although smug and irritating, had inspired a sense of trust in consistency Edward had come to rely on for reassurance. That powerful, proud man was still there for him to look to, but his image was tainted by the scorch marks of trauma and doubt. It made him easier to trust and talk to and he seemed much closer now, but it also worried Edward that someone so strong could be broken right out of the blue.

Edward looked at Roy, who was right now showing clearly the faults that had changed the boy's view of him for good.

"Are… Are you scared?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Roy frowned with shaded eyes as he stared at his shaking fists. "It probably is just a one off, but…"

Clench.

"Yes. I am."

The words sent a wire of fear right around Edward's heart. He hated it when the colonel was forced into such a state of weakness. It was just so…disorientating. Like his whole world was off-balance.

"Nevertheless," said Roy, his voice still soft but now calm and determined. "I plan to accept that things like this are bound to happen sometimes. And when they do, I know I can take it."

The wire loosened a little and Edward nodded, offering a wan smile. "Good."

"And if I can't, I've got an array of people capable of getting me back in my feet." Roy looked up, a smile breaking across his face. There was still a fleck of fear in his eyes, but it was hidden in a blaze of passion. "Don't I?"

"You betcha!" Edward replied. He thrust out a hand and Roy took hold of it. "I know I'll definitely be here."

"Then I know I'll definitely be strong enough." Roy's smile didn't falter as he stood. "What are we doing today, anyway?"

Edward jumped like Amory had snuck in and zapped him from behind. "Dammit! That's what I meant to do!"

Roy frowned a little. "What?"

"Hawkeye dropped by here yesterday when you went out. She had some books for you," the boy said, folding his arms and baring his teeth. "I was half asleep, so I forgot to pass on her warning."

"Warning?"

"It's martial arts training," Edward said. He met Roy's gaze. "Under the supervision of General Yu."

Edward could have sworn he heard the colonel's enthusiasm level hit the ground at their feet.

Roy closed his eyes. "I… I'm going back to bed."

"Like hell you are."

A sigh. "Why does it always have to end up like this…?"

So! Write up a review and tell me what you think, if you decide I'm worth it! :D

I went to Supanova (convention) this weekend and I got to see Bryce Papenbrook and Trina Nishimura, the English dubbers for Eren and Mikasa from AoT. It was awesome! And I have a new favourite quote – "Never eat a whole plate of sweet potato fries if you have to scream like Eren Jager." XD

Thanks for reading! Your feedback means a lot, so here are some review responses! (And I'm glad a lot of you found it cute when Ed huddled up to Roy. I always worry about making him OOC…)

BlacktwinWhitetwin: I'm glad I got you to like the ship! X3

The Grey Fox: OKAY! I updated! Please let the poor colonel go… D:

Victorious-Mind: HOORAY! I have no idea what this dub is gonna sound like, so I'm curious!

dragoscilvio: Don't worry! The two will definitely get some bonding time… I still have your last review screenshotted as a reminder.

NorthernMage: Unfortunately, I don't think General Armstrong will make an appearance. She might get a cameo though…and the Major will definitely enter. (SO EXCITED FOR HIM OMG)

Thanks again for everything, you guys! I hope you can continue to enjoy the story! (Also, we're coming into my school holidays, so updates might be a little sparser since I need to return my school laptop. That and I bought the new Pokemon game...as soon as it came out... Shhh, I'm not a total dork.)