Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.

- x -

"Honestly, you should have met this woman. Scared the hell out of me."

He smiled, mostly for Heyman's efforts, and politely averted his eyes as Mustang finished slipping on his dress shirt. His semi-clad appearance lent a casual air to the apparently informal gathering, but Kain Fuery wrapped his fingers around the mug of tea more tightly, unable to chase away the shivers. Challiel must have picked up on how cold he found the offices last time; she'd pressed it into his hands almost as soon as he'd walked in the door, and he was grateful for the warmth.

It was hard to stay warm these days, and he didn't want Mustang to notice.

Breda might or might not have. He was too busy recounting his tales of dealing with Mustang's seamstress, when he'd met her for his Cretian uniform fitting. Kain was sure to smile and nod in all the right places, but his heart wasn't really in it, and he nursed the tea to avoid his friend's eyes.

Heymans didn't usually talk this much unless he was nervous.

The doors opened with no knock, and Fuery jumped slightly in his chair as Colonel Hawkeye entered, flanked by Havoc. Heymans gave her a respectful nod and she returned it, so he did the same. It was clear Mustang wasn't observing normal standards of office, and he was pretty sure it meant everything to follow would be off the record.

And he wasn't sure he wanted to be off the record. On the record was nerve-wracking enough.

Hawkeye gave the Prime Minister's state of half-dress the barest of glances, then deliberately looked at her watch. Roy pretended not to notice, and Havoc came over to the sofa and stiffly took a seat. His greeting was sincere, though, and Kain gave him the brightest smile he could manage.

Wasn't hard to figure out what Havoc might be worried about. And with all of them in their dress uniforms, it was almost impossible to look relaxed anyway.

Mustang was in the process of securing his cufflinks as he approached them, leaning on the armrest of the large wingback chair that had not yet been taken. "I'll make this brief." He glanced up at them as he shook out his sleeve, and all the same intensity that had been there before, in the last meeting, was still present. Despite himself, Fuery shivered again.

Here it comes.

"All four of you are privy to information regarding the recent activity that has not been made available to the military or Parliament at large." He made eye contact with each of them, and Fuery did his best to appear curious. It seemed like the Prime Minister's eye lingered on him slightly longer than the others, but he continued as if nothing was amiss. "Tomorrow Patterson, Sorn, and Blane are going on trial. If convicted, the military will pursue the death penalty."

Fuery blinked, waiting for him to go on, but instead he frowned at them and straightened, heading back to his desk presumably for his dress jacket. "Colonel."

"Did any of you see or hear anything that is not included in your reports?"

Kain shifted, taking another sip of his tea so that she'd stop looking his way. He'd heard all the radio traffic, including some he was pretty sure was in code from two citizens inside West City, but he'd already flagged that as possible intercepted intel. As far as he knew there was no link to either of the citizens and the suspects, but of course Sheska would be tracking that down. He'd heard all the phone conversations between West and Central HQ, to ensure the lines weren't being tapped, but there'd been nothing in there of any real note. One of the lines had been tapped, but it was being tapped by Hakuro's comm expert, and Master Sergeant Pyke was a good friend of his and wouldn't be doing it unless he'd been ordered to. He'd notified Hawkeye just the same, and she'd advised him to let it go.

"You looking to pin something on them or defend them?" Havoc said it bluntly, but Hawkeye didn't seem troubled by the open discussion.

"Either. As it stands I don't think there will be much deliberation."

"You get a confession out of Sorn yet?"

The colonel nodded. "I did. Because of the incident with his guards, protocol mandates anything he says until the completion of his medical treatment will be dismissed under the coercion clause. He's sleeping off a sedative."

"So Tash doesn't have that confession on paper," Breda mused. "Is that anything?"

She shook her head, once. "He didn't do much but confirm what we already knew."

"Any chance of pinning it on Blane?"

Well, at least he could add his two cents in at this point. "None of the radio communications I overheard link Franklin to the suspected spies," he volunteered quietly. "But not to Blane either. Will they be pulled in for the trial?"

"I would expect," Jean muttered. "They under arrest yet?"

"They're in custody, yes. We expect them here in Central by tomorrow morning."

Kain glanced around as a silence fell on the party. Havoc had relaxed slightly, though he still looked like he wanted a cigarette badly enough to choke a puppy for it. Heymans had settled into his thinking posture, which still looked strange on him since the weight loss, and the colonel was her usual straight-backed self. For a moment, it was almost like they were sitting outside Major General Mustang's office again, trying to scheme up a way to get themselves or him out of some mess or other.

But this wasn't a uranium bomb. These were very real crimes that had been committed by the people accused of them. If Franklin had confessed to what they already knew, chances were he would confess again. If he did it in front of Parliament . . .

The only way out for him or for Dr. Patterson would be to smuggle them out of the country.

"The wires for the comm system down in the sub-basement are very old and corroded," he mentioned, trying to make his voice less timid as they all looked his way. "I noticed the last time Falman called up that it's very easy to mistake one word for another. And the only closet one could get to the lines - for repair purposes - would be the telecom closet on the first floor."

Repair purposes or tapping. He was pretty sure the conversations were being recorded, but if a clamp slipped on the fifty year old wires it wouldn't be that unusual. Heck, it might sever one of them completely.

The colonel blinked at him, unreadable as usual, and Breda scratched his scraggly beard thoughtfully. "With those two spies caught and on their way to Central, we need to increase security in case their fellow operatives try to silence them. Would be a hell of a disruption if any of them tried to get their comrades out."

"You forgot the elevator," Havoc cut in, almost apologetically. "Hakuro's usually got two stationed in that hall that never leave. Not that an alchemist couldn't take them down." He glanced at Riza questioningly. "How's Fletcher Tringum? Still on Hakuro's list?"

She nodded, and then a deep voice broke in smoothly, directly over Kain's head. "If Falman wasn't there he'd have been dissected by now. I'm not confident Maria could successfully pry Russell away."

Fuery tried hard not to jump, knowing he'd failed when his tea nearly sloshed all over his hand. Mustang was right, though - if they arranged for Russell not to be there at the time all of this accidentally happened, it would be overly convenient and the general would latch onto it that much harder. And Russell had every reason to protest any kind of accident that might involve freeing the confessed murderer of his brother.

Even if Fletcher was still alive, it didn't change the fact that Timothy Patterson killed him. Was Mustang really trying to get them both out? Sorn by himself would be much easier, and he knew Roy had lobbied hard for giving Patterson life in prison due to extenuating circumstances -

Ah. Which is why he'd clarified the sentence when they walked in. His request for leniency had apparently been overruled. And that probably also meant it was now fact that Sorn would be tried as an adult as well.

"What about the Elrics?" Heymans glanced over his head at Mustang. "Ed's out, I know, but Al's been in visiting Tringum."

Strangely, Hawkeye hesitated. "I think-"

"I'd like to avoid bringing him in if it's possible," Mustang cut over her. "Edward will already be facing intense scrutiny."

Of course. The automail that wasn't.

"How sure are you the kid'll play nice?" Breda tried to catch his the blond's eyes but Havoc ignored him, focused on Hawkeye instead, and Kain looked between the two of them before the colonel spoke. Her voice was quiet and confident.

"I'm sure."

Jean was still a moment more, then leaned back in his seat in the same amicable way he'd always done. ". . . good enough for me. Will he go along with this?"

She frowned. "If ordered," she finally allowed. "Getting them out of the building isn't the only problem."

No, the second, bigger problem would arise when the country was alerted that two of the men behind the plot to kill their beloved leader were on the lamb. The manhunt would be huge.

"Where are we putting them?"

"I need to make a diplomatic visit to Xing," Mustang observed, and the sounds of fabric shifting behind him made Kain tense. Which was silly; the man was just pulling on his jacket. "I allowed a prized piece of their workmanship to become damaged and I should accompany the dragon for repairs. Military representation on that trip will be fairly low. We wouldn't want to alarm Xing after making such high-handed demands on Creta."

Meaning he planned to smuggle them out to Xing. But the interim . . . it would be days. Getting them underground and keeping them there . . .

Underground . . .

"Any alchemist that was accused of human transmutation would probably know their way around the buried city," he heard his mouth start, before the thought was even completely finished. "Won't that elevator also take them down?"

All eyes were on him, and he held the teacup more tightly. "I was just thinking, keeping them underground is easier, well, underground. Sorn can transmute a building, right? I-I mean, you're a few alchemists down already, and Alex Armstrong will probably be deployed as soon as the ceremony is over . . ." No, that was a terrible idea. It would be the first place Hakuro looked and even if there were a million places to hide they really would be trapped, with no real means to get out of the hidden city.

But Havoc's furrowed brow was relaxing, and Heymans was watching some piece of the table consideringly, and Riza was giving him a very approving sort of look. "I believe that elevator will still descend to the hidden city."

Not to mention the other elevator, that was in this very room, that would go down to the same place. Getting them out when the time was right would not be a problem. They could be loaded into Mustang's luggage and the military would never be the wiser.

"Including Blane's guards, there'll be eleven guys down there. I don't know that Sorn can take 'em all out." Heymans looked at Havoc again, and the taller man shook his head.

"Not hand to hand. But the kid apparently pulled off some pretty massive transmutations."

The conversation lulled again, and the presence behind Fuery vanished. "Thank you," Mustang said simply, circling back to his desk. "That is all."

Which had traditionally meant he would consider the probability of that plan actually succeeding, then put his pieces into motion based upon three possible outcomes - it would go according to plan, it would succeed but with hitches, or it would not succeed at all. Hawkeye would coordinate orders, and they could expect them shortly.

Very shortly. They only had a few days to get everything ready, and that was even assuming they could make contact with the rest of Creta's spy network and drop the right hints in the right ears.

"Fuery, a word."

The tea curdled on the back of his tongue, and Kain carefully smiled at all of them as the three nodded to him and took their leave. Breda was the last to go, and he shot him a quick grin and quietly shut the door behind himself. And then he was quite alone with Mustang, still eyeing his desk, every inch the Prime Minister.

However scary the seamstress was, she did excellent work. The collar still made his head look like a mushroom, though.

"I spoke with the general concerning your request for reinstatement," he said distractedly, scanning his desk for something with faint irritation. "The base physician placed the hold on the request, and has advised him you are unable to pass a physical examination."

Fuery put the mug down, unable to leech any more comfort from it, and started for the desk, furious with himself for his short, fearful strides. Everything about him was cringing and for the life of him he just couldn't stop.

He didn't want to be discharged. What was he going to do out there? Mend radios? Keep a little repair shop? After everything he'd seen and been a part of, he'd thought his career was just starting. He was barely twenty-six, and he was getting better every day. He didn't care what the doctors said, he'd get better like Heymans was getting better.

He just . . . wasn't doing it quite as fast. His hands were shaking and he curled them up so it wouldn't be so obvious.

"I will, sir. I will pass a physical."

Roy waved a hand carelessly at him, then shifted a pile of folders and found what he was looking for. He tucked the velvet box into some inner pocket of his ebony coat and then looked up, fixing him with that single, dark eye.

"There are exceptions made every day for soldiers injured in the line of duty." He said it almost dismissively. "Your injuries fall under that classification. The requirement will be waived."

He didn't really hear it the first time, because it sounded like Mustang just said it didn't matter, and if it didn't matter, then the paperwork would have been processed and he would have been notified. Sheska would have said something, being the colonel's assistant. So clearly the fact that the physical requirements had been waived didn't really mean anything.

He'd failed something else.

"Kain."

He blinked up at the man, hoping beyond hope he didn't look as panicked as he felt. Mustang was going to dismiss him. He'd done something else, something wrong, there was something he couldn't do because of this damn weakness that he just couldn't shake as quickly as Breda had. He'd been the last to be asked back, the last to be given tasks, he'd had to fight tooth and nail just to come into this thing now and if he'd been relied on only two weeks ago he might have caught onto the spy network sooner-

"Don't push yourself so hard. Your place here will wait for you." His expression hadn't softened in the least, but somehow that was more reassuring than if he'd gotten a smirk or even a grin. "Your sacrifice saved the lives of alchemists and soldiers both. You need to worry about yourself now." He circled the desk, and Fuery was too stunned to flinch when the Prime Minister put a firm hand on his shoulder.

"I expected you to come back when you were ready. If you're saying that's now . . . welcome back."

He stared up at the man, too surprised for words, for so long that Mustang's lips quirked, and he was close enough, finally, to see that it was affected. It was then Fuery realized how much his surprise was probably hurting him.

"Thank you sir," he managed, in a fairly smooth voice, and then he removed his glasses and a polishing cloth because for some reason it seemed he couldn't see quite clearly out of them.

Mustang was mostly to the door by the time he was finished, but obviously waiting for him, and Fuery hurried across the large offices, stifling any evidence that even that small amount of exercise made him out of breath. If Roy noticed it he said nothing, and he moved double-time to keep up with Mustang's long strides.

Oddly, the silence between them was almost companionable, and Kain felt comfortable enough to ask when he noticed the piles of dark leather traveling bags at the foot of the long stairs. "Sir . . . don't those belong to the Drachman party?

He received a short nod. "His Eminence Shurik Tolya feels the Drachman name has been sufficiently cleared, regardless of Creta's answer. He has requested his diplomats be recalled until they can set up a proper embassy."

Fuery blinked. "So they've been released?"

Mustang arched his visible eyebrow. "Released, second lieutenant? You make it sound as if they were not allowed free reign of the capitol buildings."

Kain kept a nod to himself. Of course. Tolya had forgiven the trespass when he'd realized the situation, and depending on how much Mustang trusted the man, may have been grateful simply because he knew his own army had been facing the same risk as Creta's. Or they'd struck some kind of deal, Tolya would ignore what Amestris had done in return for a concession of land for the embassy . . .

"How is Major General Armstrong?"

Mustang favored him with a sideways look. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

"Ah. Olivier Milla Armstrong."

"She's well." Not that she would allow her wound to get in the way of her brother's promotional ceremony. Hakuro had held it up long enough that they were likely only to be of the same rank for a short period of time. Once the Creta issue had been resolved, she was probably looking at a promotion herself.

"I expect the banquet afterwards will be quite an affair. You should be sure to attend, second lieutenant."

"Yessir."

- x -

She was cleaning again.

He left his eyes closed, listening and idly trying to determine what exactly she was doing. Somewhere at the foot of the bed - picking up the towel that had been wrapped around his hair. A tug of fabric against his itchy calves - straightening the sheet. Now she was back around towards the door, and he heard the switch click and the faint electric buzz of the lights in the tiny, private bathroom.

Ed slid his eyes open, studying the edge of the bed to determine where he was in relation to the rest of it. He was too close to the edge he was facing, and he didn't stifle the faint groan that crawled from his throat when he shifted. Even after stretching out in the cool water of the pool, it still hurt to move, and it hurt far more when he actually had to support his own weight.

"Ed?"

He let his eyes half-close again in relief when he'd rearranged himself, careful to stare aimlessly at the IV pole instead of Winry as she emerged from the bathroom.

"What's the matter?"

"Can . . ." He let it trail off, then flicked a finger half-heartedly at his IV stand. "Not dripping," he added, though she was already on her way.

"Did it get bent again?" Her grey pleated skirt swung into his field of vision, blocking the IV stand from view as she inspected the bag of fluids, and he struck. It was relatively easy to slip three fingers into her waistband, and he pulled almost as hard as he was able, hoping he had enough leverage in sheer dead weight.

With a startled yelp she fell onto the bed, and before she could put her feet back on the floor he wrapped his stinging arm around her securely.

"Hey! What-"

She twisted, and he wasn't able to reposition his arm fast enough. "Ah-!"

Winry froze instantly, half straightened, and he huffed, trying to ease the arm without letting her go. Or grabbing anything that was off limits. He was sure his expression was positively wolfish, though, and he tried to imitate Al's 'pathetic' voice. "Every time you move it hurts. You don't want to hurt me, do you?"

He expected her to turn around and clobber him, but she remained perfectly still, obviously completely shocked. He chuckled tiredly at her, pulling her back onto the mattress, and once she realized he was teasing, she growled.

Much better.

"Very much. Let go."

"No." He moved his head back to give her room on the pillow, just in case she accepted, and tugged more emphatically as she squirmed. "Give up."

She shook her head in exasperation, blonde hair confined in a head scarf, but sagged slightly against the bed. It was rather large to accommodate his physical therapy, and there was enough room for both of them if she'd just relax. Her back was still to him, tense beneath her white blouse, and she sighed. "They gave you the good drugs, huh."

Not good enough. "You were cleaning again."

Winry snorted. "Someone has to. For a person who does nothing but sleep, your room is a pigsty."

He gave another tug on her waist. "For someone who doesn't sleep at all, you do a lot of complaining."

"Ed, what are you doing?" It was irritated but fond, and he knew he'd won.

"Infecting you with my sleep."

She choked on a laugh. "I do sleep, you just don't stay awake long enough to notice."

"Don't believe you." But she'd relented, and he released his tight hold as she swung her legs back onto the bed and stretched out beside him. He couldn't see her face, but that didn't matter. He was fairly certain she was exhausted enough to fall asleep before he did, and as soon as she was settled, he hugged her close.

"Fine. If it'll shut you up . . ." She sighed lightly, then flinched as she realized she was lying on his right arm. "Sorry-"

He hugged her a little tighter against him. "S'fine. I was kidding." In truth it only hurt a little, and only when he actively used the muscles. Her weight was slight, slighter than it had been in a long time, and comfortable despite the lack of armor. "Keep this up and the doc'll put you on bedrest."

Another snort, much more delicate. "I'm fine, Ed."

He closed his eyes, fighting between intense drowsiness and the desire to shake her until her teeth rattled. She wasn't fine. ". . . you don't have to be Aunt Pinako, you know."

Winry didn't get tense again, which he was afraid of, but she didn't respond, and he chewed the silence. He didn't want to fight with her, all he really wanted her to do was get some damn sleep. Al had already indicated that he was worried about her too, though something else was picking at his brother and he wasn't quite sure he was ready to address it yet. Maybe later, when he could stay awake for an entire conversation.

Then again, it would be rude to fall asleep now that he'd just pulled Winry into the bed.

. . . shit. He'd pulled Winry into the bed.

She took a breath, but it was a long time before she used it. " . . . Ed-"

"It's just the blankets that got bunched up, I swear."

The mattress shook with her laughter, but it was over all too soon. "You're not . . . thinking about doing anything, right?"

His eyes opened to stare at the back of her head curiously. "About Aunt Pinako?" He wondered, from the tone of her voice, how she hoped he'd respond. "I think Al's brought it up to the Tringums. I'm not gonna tell you that it's without risk, but . . ." He trailed off, not sure how much to say. "I think she's afraid we'd screw it up."

Winry nodded into the pillow, her golden hair tickling his nose. "She has ever reason to be."

His eyes slipped closed again. She'd done a valiant job of not yelling at him yet, and pulling her into bed with him was just inviting that sort of thing. "Winry-"

She shifted, pulling up her knees a little, but she didn't make any move to leave. "You cut it too close this time." It was soft.

Of course, she always said that, but he'd been making a habit of shaving it closer and closer as time went on. He had no ready protest so he just remained silent.

She was right.

"I think Al thought . . . that you died." She said it hesitantly. "There was one night he came to granny's room, really upset, but he wouldn't tell me. Then Maria came in to give him a message. He said he'd be back soon but he wasn't . . ." Her arm came down to tighten around the one he'd wrapped around her waist. "You can't do that to him again, Ed."

He trapped her fingers in his hand. Mustang had told him that they'd initially gotten word that he'd been executed, but why the hell would he have told Al without getting confirmation first? It wasn't at all like the bastard to give that kind of information away until the casket was getting unloaded.

Son of a bitch.

"I didn't mean to." It sounded incredibly lame. "I didn't intend for it to happen that way, Winry. I was the only one-" The only one who could have gotten Franklin the hell out of that mess but Al. Only he'd failed. Miserably. "It was either me or Al. I don't care how mad that makes him, I'm not going to let him get sent into something like that."

She sighed, and her chin dropped. "I think he's getting tired of being protected."

Ed's eyes opened again as his brain realized they might not be talking only about Al. "Winry . . ." But she didn't need to know that. That Mustang's orders had been to stop Franklin at any cost. That hadn't just meant standing in front of an army to change his mind. It had also meant killing him if he couldn't be dissuaded. If Sorn had managed to make the Stone, tried to go back in time . . . the damage he could have done even if it wasn't impossible was incalculable. And if the kid was right, if Einstein was wrong or the Stone would allow you to ignore not only alchemical law but physical laws as well, to that extent-

"I didn't mean to leave you behind. But it was too dangerous, and wizard that you are, you're no alchemist."

"I wasn't talking about me, lunkhead," she growled, slapping the arm around her waist. "I know you didn't leave me behind, and don't think for a second that I'm angry with you about that." She huffed, but it was more resigned than anything else, and she replaced her hand in his.

". . . everyone's life is worth more than yours, Ed. You promised me you'd stop this, but here you are." Her voice dropped. "When they got you in here, they weren't sure you were going to make it. Did you know that?"

He stared silently at the back of her head.

"They said you woke up on the train, but you wouldn't open your eyes, no matter how much me or Al talked to you. Every time there was a loud noise you flinched. At night it was like . . . it took every bit of strength you had left just to breathe." She hesitated. "And then there was a thunderstorm . . . even when you were half-under getting automail installed, Ed, you never sounded like that." Winry was starting to tremble, just a little, and he pulled her back and shoulders close against his chest. Her fingers folded tightly around his, and the head scarf shivered around her hair.

"You can't do this anymore, Ed. It hurts too much."

He focused on a single strand of hair that was stark and bright against the headscarf. "You saying I should quit being a State Alchemist?"

She snorted. "Like that would stop you."

His lips pulled back into a smile. She was right. "Win, it was me or Al. We're the only ones that know what that array looks like and what it's for. I don't want to educate anyone else on it, either. The fewer who know the better. It's not like I was reckless."

But was that really true? She did have a point; her life, Pinako's, Al's, even the bastard's, if he was forced to weigh them, of course they'd be worth more. And he knew he could argue that Winry was the same way - she was proving it by working herself to exhaustion. She'd say it was her coping mechanism and it was, but it wasn't the mechanism she thought.

"You're always reckless, Ed, when it's about you." But she didn't let his fingers go, didn't move away. "Granny's right. You would risk it all for her without a second thought."

He shifted, picking up his head to stare at her incredulously. "And you think that's wrong?"

"Of course I do!" Her head twisted sharply on the pillow, and he could see the corner of her left eye, glaring at him. "You don't owe anything anymore, Ed! You don't have a sin to repent for! We thought-we thought-" She broke it off, whipping her head back around so he was looking at the back of it again. "We were afraid you might not ever wake up. Not really. We thought you might end up the way you were when . . . when you and Al first got back."

That had crossed his mind, right after he'd realized exactly what Luis had been pouring into the tub. Even before he'd decreased the resistance by dousing him with water it had been relatively bad, but after . . . Luis had been right. It had been pretty damn close to automail. Close enough that he could pretend.

Close enough that he'd been able to do it on purpose. Just . . . leave for a while. And for all that he was damn sure he'd let himself go to prevent Sorn from having to watch, from being tempted to talk, he didn't think he'd be able to say that out loud while looking in a mirror. Just the memory made him shiver, and he worked his hand free of Winry's so he could try to shift the sheet up a little higher.

"Well, I'm not." Anything to pull his mind out of that god-forsaken room in Germany. If he fell asleep now, had a nightmare about it - "Trust me, Winry, I don't do this stuff for fun."

"Then why?" It was plaintive. "Why can't you just . . . not? Why can't you smash your fingers with a hammer like everyone else? Why do you have to smash your entire body?"

How many times could he tell her he was the only one before she realized it?

A new thought occurred to him, and he frowned at it. How long would she keep asking before he considered the possibility that he wasn't as indispensible as he thought?

Or maybe her point was that he was. He was invaluable to her, and to Al. He hadn't left her behind, not really, but that didn't really matter. If everyone came before him, then he was worthless, and by extension that meant he considered their feelings about him equally worthless. "I'll always risk my life for other people's. It's kinda built in at this point."

"Then why can't you risk letting someone else risk it?"

He stared at the back of her head. Risk letting someone make a mistake on that scale - or risk letting someone else be the one to save the day? Didn't he let his brother wander into Blane's very house and risk getting exposed to the same virus that -

No. Better not think that way. If Al hadn't realized it it didn't matter. Blane was contained. Even if he'd given Al the virus then and there it didn't matter, there was no one left alive who could use it against him.

But he knew full well that he'd reacted to the thought, somehow, because Winry was wrapping her own arm around herself in lieu of using his. It wasn't that he didn't trust others to do their jobs - hadn't he trusted the bastard?

Only because you had to, his mind reasoned. You tried and failed to get him out of the fight with Craege Irving.

But later that night-

He figured it out and moved on his own. Though he did save countless lives by stopping the poisoned ink on the newspapers and they'd used their alchemy jointly to accomplish the goal it wasn't like he left much up to someone else but sustaining alchemy they'd already started.

Fine, he griped at his brain. What about letting Al-

Letting, his mind pointed out, and he swatted it in irritation and decided to argue with Winry, instead. "Winry . . . "

"Every time I see you walk out a door I can't trust you to come back through it. I never know when you're going to be the 'only one' who can save the world and the only thing I can trust is that you'll go to any length to do it. It's never a team effort with you when it really counts, Ed, when the stakes are really high. No one's allowed to see, no one's allowed to help. And that's fine if you're the Full Metal Alchemist, but . . . not if you're Edward." Her voice was almost a whisper.

"I miss Edward."

He didn't know what to say, so he replaced his arm around her, and this time he found and wound his fingers through hers. It took her a long time to squeeze back, so long he was briefly afraid he'd fallen asleep waiting.

"I'd say next time I'll let you do it, but . . . I don't want a next time." With every aching bone in his body.

Winry sighed, and it sounded as drowsy as he felt. "Shut up and go to sleep already."

"You first."

Some unknown time later he was briefly woken by something squirming in his arms, and he cracked open his eyes to see Winry trying unsuccessfully to get away from him, his arms clamped around her like a little kid cuddles a hot water bottle on a cold night. For some reason it seemed like they were both covered in a blanket, and Winry was doing her level best to ooze off the edge of the bed without disturbing either of them.

He didn't let her go, and he went right back to sleep.

- x -

Author's Notes: Crap. I am way off my guesstimate at this point - those of you who outbid me are looking to be correct! The real world came and bited me. Evil real world. Also, Silverfox is to blame for introducing me to D. Gray Man (or as I lovingly refer to it, D. Crap Man, because in the anime, after the commercial break, the highly stylized, tiny font looks like it says D. Crap Man.)

So a possible plan to get Sorn and Patterson the hell out of Dodge! And Ed hemming and hawing on what to do with Pinako. This chapter was supposed to include one of the threatened tearjerkers, but I realized it would be just too long, so you get a short one, and then hopefully a much longer one that will wrap up a good portion of the fic. Standard typo disclaimer applies - if you spot anything, please let me know!

And thank all of you for your patience as I draw this out in its painful entirety. Aren't you glad I wasn't this slow when Ed was dead? ; )