Ooh, this part was fun to write, in an angsty sort of way. I now have even more plot bunnies, which are equally (if not more) angsty. Don't you just want to bludgeon me with Percy Sledge (the sledgehammer I keep beside my bed) right now? Teehee...

Disclaimer: I still don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. If I did, Edo and Roy would live in my closet with all the other famous people I have in there. My closet's like the Tardis (grins).

Alphonse watched his brother closely from the other side of the miniscule room, his eyes narrowed in thought. Even as the blond mechanic connected his nerves to the automail mechanism he was silent, his gaze focused intently upon the ground as though it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen. He had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire journey back to the dormitories, but Alphonse knew better than to question. If his brother wanted to divulge what was on his mind, he would tell him. It was as simple as that.

"Wow, I'm impressed, Ed," said Winry, leaning backwards slightly to admire her handiwork. "You're quieter than usual."

The smaller blond gave a cheerless smile. "Just getting used to it, I guess."

Winry bit down on her bottom lip, all too aware of Edward's reluctance to speak, or show any form of emotion, whatsoever. She couldn't deny her curiosity as to what had managed to break through the diminutive alchemist's seemingly impenetrable barrier, but was certain it couldn't be anything remotely pleasant. She gave a barely noticeable wince. The last person to affect him this badly was Nina.

"Ed-"

She was sharply cut off by several loud knocks from the door, and a call of, "Edward Elric?" The blond, and the suit of armor turned to the small alchemist (the latter with a series of clanks) who sighed heavily, and got to his feet. Flexing his automail fingers in case the usage of them was required, he pulled open the door, and came face to face with a military officer, his right hand aloft in a salute.

"Major Elric," he said. "The Fuhrer wants to see you immediately."

"Oh?" he murmured dully. "What've I done, now?"

"I don't know, Sir. I'm just the messenger."

Nodding solemnly, Edward followed him out into the corridor, without so much as a backwards glance. Winry made as though to stand and follow him, but froze in her steps as Alphonse held out a hand to prevent her from doing so. She threw him a questioning glance, but all she received was a shake of his helmet in response.

"Brother won't want us eavesdropping." he said simply.

Winry's eyes glinted with annoyance, and she folded her arms across her chest. "Why doesn't he tell us anything, Al? You're his brother. Surely-"

"He's trying to protect me," he murmured solemnly, echoing the words from Riza Hawkeye that had been ricocheting throughout his mind ever since the encounter. "Protect both of us. If we need to know, he'll tell us."

She eyed him disbelievingly for a moment. She had known both Edward and Alphonse since childhood, and even in those days, Edward had been an introverted, reserved character when it came to his emotions. He portrayed arrogance, of course. He had no choice, it was either that, or allow everyone to see what lay in the shadows behind his pupils. That way, people only knew exactly what he wanted them to know.

"I hope so," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I really do."

Edward purposefully remained several feet behind the officer, as he led him towards the Fuhrer's office. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his scarlet coat, and his gaze fixed upon the ground that his feet pounded, wincing slightly with each metallic thunk as his automail limb made contact with the tiled floor.

Every step tortured his poor, abused mind. He had enough to consume his thoughts with, like what he had done to warrant an audience with the Fuhrer. He didn't need thoughts of that night, of his mother, plaguing him too. Edward Elric was a lot of things, but he was no fool. Every step until the day they finally found the Philosopher's Stone, and returned their bodies to their normal states would haunt him. That was his punishment.

The officer stood to one side of a pair of double doors, and gestured with one hand that Edward should enter alone. He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement, but spoke no words of gratitude, and otherwise acted as though the man did not exist. Exhaling sharply through his teeth in some form of preparation, he pushed open the doors, and walked into the office beyond.

"Ah, Edward," his heart sank the instant those words hit him. The usual jovial tone that the Fuhrer's voice possessed was absent. "Nice of you to join us."

He was seated behind his desk, his hands clasped, and his chin resting upon them. He surveyed the blond impassively, and it took all of Edward's strength to not be intimidated. He averted his gaze, and was stunned to see a wheelchair-bound Roy Mustang to the right of the Fuhrer's desk, staring firmly at his hands and attempting desperately to ignore Edward's presence. That unnerved him enough, and to see Frank Archer standing beside him, failing to keep a smirk from his lips, only worsened the sensation.

Unsure of what else to do, the alchemist stood bolt upright, and raised his right hand in a salute, mentally cursing himself for doing so. The only person he had saluted in his entire military career was (he visibly flinched) Maes Hughes, and the surprise was evident in the Fuhrer's expression, though it disappeared almost instantly.

"Fullmetal," his voice immediately adopted a cold tone. "We have reason to believe that you attacked your commanding officer, Colonel Mustang. Is this true?"

Edward couldn't deny that some part of him had been expecting this from the moment that first bullet had shattered bone. He glanced to Roy for barely a second, and found his fists clenching tightly in his pockets. No doubt the bastard had conveniently forgotten to explain that it had been he who had landed the first blow, and he didn't even have the nerve to look at him. With immense difficulty, Edward managed to control his rage, and turned back to the Fuhrer.

"Yes, Sir."

He nodded. "Why might that have been, Fullmetal?"

Edward felt that ebony gaze upon him for the first time since he had entered the room, though his anger did not dissipate. If he was as malignant as some people believed him to be, what with being a 'Dog of the military' he could destroy the Colonel's career in a matter of seconds, and everything he had worked so hard to achieve would crumble right before his eyes.

He deserves it, the crueler portion of his mind hissed. You couldn't kill him, but this can be your revenge. Let him fall. Let him see what happens when you invoke the wrath of the Fullmetal Alchemist.

He bowed his head. "Lapse of judgment, Sir," he murmured. "I was angry about how my last assignment went, and I took it out on the Colonel. I apologize."

Roy almost toppled out of his chair in shock, his eyes wide, and fixed upon the minute alchemist. He had just thrown away his opportunity for vengeance, to ensure that he was punished for what he had done, without so much as a second thought. There was not so much as a trace of deception in his amber eyes, only remorse that Roy was certain he had to be feigning.

"I'm sure you're aware that such misconduct will not be tolerated, Mr. Elric." said Fuhrer Bradley, his expression not altering.

"I am, Sir."

He nodded slowly. "Then I'm afraid I have no choice," he paused, and Edward drew a deep, silent breath. "You are officially dishonorably discharged from the military of Amestris. Leave your watch here, and I expect you out of the dorms by morning."

Edward did not speak. He simply removed his automail hand from his pocket, and slipped his silver pocket watch from his belt loop. His gaze remained ashamedly upon the carpet as he made the few steps to the Fuhrer's desk, and dropped the watch, where it made a small clink as it made contact with the wood. He turned, ignoring Roy's stunned expression, and walked quickly from the office, softly closing the door behind him.

The extent of what had just happened did not approach him until he was halfway down the corridor, his stance as hunched as ever. Dishonorable discharge. Without that certification, he no longer had any authority to enter the library, where all the information about the Philosopher's Stone resided. He halted, biting down hard on his bottom lip. What was he going to tell Al?

"Edward! Ed!!"

He turned on his heel, and caught sight of Mustang stumbling out of the office, clutching one of his injured knees, but refusing to allow it to deter him from making his way towards the blond. Edward examined his wounds with mild interest, certain that such exercise would be causing them to break open once again, bringing a fresh amount of agony with them.

"You shouldn't be walking, Colonel," he said flatly. "Those knees need to heal."

As expected, Roy ignored him completely, until he was standing directly in front of him, breathing heavily with the effort of forcing movement. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

He glanced around quickly to ensure they were alone, before meeting those amber eyes once again. "Why didn't you tell him what I did? You could have been cleared."

"Since when have I ever cared about my career in the military?" asked Edward. "Besides, this has nothing to do with that. This is because I shot you. I have to take responsibility for my actions."

"What about the Stone?" hissed Roy, his eyes wide with concern and pain, unable to register the sudden show of maturity from the teen. "What about Alphonse? What about-"

"Get some rest," he said, turning back around and beginning to walk at a pace he knew Mustang would be unable to keep up with. "You need it."

Roy simply stared at his rapidly retreating back, barely noticing when Archer took a firm hold of him and guided him back to his wheelchair, muttering something about his stupidity. What Edward had just done for him was something he couldn't possibly begin to fathom. He had just senselessly thrown away his chance at restoring his and his brother's bodies, and for what? Pride? Was he refusing to admit that he had been so weak as to allow the Colonel to attack him in the first place?

He stared down at his knees, a familiar guilt welling in the pit of his stomach, though lacking in the self-pity that had once been so comforting to him in the aftermath of the Ishbal Rebellion. Whatever Edward's reasons were, Roy now owed him everything, and right then and there, he made a solemn vow to never forget what he had done for him. Someday he would repay him.