DA: Heya! You all know what time of week it is! NEW CHAPTER TIME! Sorry, I just had a coffee so now I'm super hyper! But I know you all don't wanna listen to me ramble so I'll just do all my talking at the end. This chapter's a long one so strap yourselves in. (Though it's not all that exciting. Just kinda fluffy)

Disclaimer: I'm running out of witty ways to explain how I DON'T OWN FMA!

DA: Well enjoy! As usual, swearing and probably some gore. I dunno, depends really.

Darkness to Dawn

Chapter 10

Mustang stared Alphonse down, once again finding himself in the uncomfortable chairs of the waiting room. The Rockbell's must have taken an obnoxiously early train because it couldn't have been later than six when someone shook him awake, telling him they were prepping Ed for surgery. And so here he was, enduring the piercing gaze of one concerned brother. It was a little unnerving to say the least when twin dots of red watched him so carefully, as if expecting him to do something spectacular. "When did you show up again?" he asked, head still muddled with sleep.

"I already told you, Colonel," the suit of armor responded, exasperated. "Lieutenant Hawkeye said that you'd been in the room for about ten minutes when I arrived. You were asleep."

"And there were no changes?" Roy nearly winced at the hopeful note in his tone. Metal clanked as they boy shook his head, those bright eyes dimming slightly.

"No." His voice lowered, the irritation all but gone. "He slept all night too." If it had been any other situation, the Colonel would have yelled in protest at the comparison of him and Ed. He remained silent however, finding the way his hands interwove in his lap very interesting. His clothes were sleep rumpled, though how he had managed to mess up his clothing up while in a chair was beyond him, and his hair was scruffier than normal, but his body was tight with worry. It felt the same whenever one of his subordinates landed in the hospital, only with Ed, it was a thousand times worse. "Hey, he'll be ok, Colonel..." The dark-haired man pushed the bubble of hysterical laughter back down his throat, working to erase all signs of stress from his features. It always astounded him how accurate Alphonse was at reading people.

"Yea, I know, Al." Silence fell over them, neither having anything else to say. A door burst open nearby, an exhausted but irate blond storming in.

"Where is he?!" she screamed, scowling harshly at them. "I swear I'm gonna kill him."

"Winry!" Alphonse exclaimed, sounding surprised. She rounded on him, blue eyes flashing with anger.

"Alphonse! What did your dumbass brother do to my automail this time?!" Winry was fuming, a vein pulsing in her forehead. At the mention of automail, Mustang paled slightly.

"Sorry. The ports are a bit sensitive..."

Oblivious to the Colonel's distress, she kept going. "The moment we stepped on the hospital grounds, the doctors ran off with Granny and left me all alone. Can someone please explain to me what the hell Ed got his dumb ass into this time?" Mustang sighed, leveling his dark gaze on the girl.

"You might want to sit down miss," he said, lips tight.

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Winry sat down harshly when he finished, her face practically bloodless. "T-tortured?" she questioned, voice an octave higher with a mix of distress and absolute horror. Al stood behind her, placing a comforting hand on her back as she pitched forwards, pressing her face into her hands. "Ed...was tortured?" Tears were spilling from her crystal blue eyes, dripping from between her fingers and onto the clean tile floor. Mustang nodded, his face grave.

"Your grandmother is in the surgery right now to assist in removing a rod from his thigh that had somehow gotten tangled with the wires of his thigh port. However, there is more. I believe that someone had been meddling further with the ports, as well. When we are allowed back in the room, you should probably look at them." Perhaps he was being a bit unsympathetic towards the girl, but she needed to understand the situation fully and remedy it before it could get worse. And knowing Ed, it probably would get worse if left unchecked.

"Yeah," she agreed, breathless. Her previous anger was all but forgotten, apparent by the watery but vacant gaze that was visible through the cracks between her fingers. She swallowed harshly and glanced back up at the dark-haired man, her eyes gleaming with worry. "Will he be alright?" Her voice was quiet and strained, a slight hard edge betraying the concern which she held for her childhood friend. Mouth twitching into a slight grin, he nodded.

"Yea, he's gonna be just fine." As the words left his mouth, something deep within him started burning sickeningly. He kept the grin on his face, hiding his turmoil. Riza shot him a look, her eyebrows furrowed and a slight scowl painted across her lips. She could tell; she could always tell, but, as usual, remained silent.

Winry sighed in relief, her body shuddering as if it was a sob. "Well, that's good. I'd hate to think that he wouldn't be able to bounce back from this." The burning sensation increased, Roy's facade slipping. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was wrong. Really wrong. He wanted to say something comforting, but his head wouldn't string words together without making them sound ominous. As per always, his lieutenant saved his ass. He really needed to give her a pay raise...

"He's in his last serious procedure right now, so he'll be back on his feet in no time," she reassured, squatting down so her face was in line with Winry's. The girl chuckled weakly, without humor. Something dark flickered in her blue irises.

"Last serious procedure? It seems you guys forgot about the automail reattachment." Both Colonel and Lieutenant sucked in a shocked breath, trading looks of equal astonishment. "Automail attachment is no simple procedure It doesn't use anesthetic and it's been known to have drastic consequences for those patients who have it done while in critical condition." She didn't need to say the last part, but it echoed in all their minds: Like Ed is..."It has knocked Ed on his ass for up to a day when perfectly healthy. I-I don't know what could happen now..." Riza reached out and pulled the nearly hysterical girl into a tight hug, her chestnut eyes soft and motherly.

"This is Ed we're talking about. He's gonna be fine." The murmurs seemed to calm the teen, her body relaxing ever so slightly into the hug. Alphonse's hand remained on her back, stroking it gently. The sight almost caused Mustang to smile despite himself. But even the comforting scene couldn't ease the dread that curled and thrashed within him.

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"Brother?" Al questioned, piercing the dark fog clouding Ed's mind. "Brother, are you awake?" He wanted to snap at the younger boy for disturbing him. Of course he was awake. How could anyone sleep with such a racket? Al must have let in an entire circus for the sole purpose of waking him.

"Fullmetal, now's not the time to pretend that you're sleeping," another voice supplied, stirring his memories. Mustang. Great. What the hell was that bastard doing here? And why was he so uncomfortable?

Something cold and smooth crossed over his upper lip, stale, rubbery air puffing into his nose. His flesh arm felt heavy and confined and the rest of his body was tight, his breathing restricted. Well, fuck. He was in the hospital. "Ed, enough. We can see your eyes twitching." There was a certain strain to Mustang's tone that wasn't normal, filling it with concern and desperation.

Oh. Oh. Warzone. Captured. Pain. As the thought raced through his mind, his limbs started throbbing dully, diluted by drugs most likely. A low moan was drawn from his throat, eyes blinking open. Two figures hung over him, one large and bulky and the other leaner. Their faces were inches from his own, red and dark eyes scanning his gold. He yelped, trying to force himself further into the pillows to put some distance between him and them. "What the hell guys?!" he tried to yell but it came out as a painful croak. The hard look in Mustang's eyes eased and he sat back, a slight smile playing on his lips. Alphonse, however, kept his close proximity and twined his strong arms around his brother, hugging him fiercely. Ed choked on a groan, feeling every injury on his body complaining at the strain.

"Brother!" the younger boy cried, voice thick with tears in a way that always made Ed's chest tight with guilt. "You're ok!"

"Al," Ed coughed, voice still weak. "Let me go... You're...hurting me..." The pressure lessened instantly and he fell back onto the bed, willing the multicolored dots out of his vision. Al backed off, somehow managing to look sheepish.

"There are many ways to describe Fullmetal's condition," Mustang commented dryly. "But I highly doubt 'ok' is one of them." Ed responded with a roll of his eyes and a slight shake of his head, discovering that any movement, no matter how small, caused pain. Quickly sweeping a critical gaze over his commanding officer, he analyzed the man's condition.

"Speak for yourself, bastard. You seem to be a few hours away from your own hospital bed. A couple of sleepless nights too much for you in your old age?" Mustang's eyes instantly narrowed, a sharp glare focused on the injured alchemist.

"I'm sorry, but I wasn't aware that they gave full-sized hospital beds to a person of your stature." It was with satisfied relief that he watched Ed's eyebrow twitch, taking no time at all to pick up on the height jab. The Colonel, a smile still secured on his lips, gleefully counted the moments until the inevitable explosion.

"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO TINY HE NEEDS TO BE PUT IN THE CHILDREN'S WARD?!" Ed must have misunderstood the inflections in Mustang's voice earlier, because he was a bastard. No question about it. His chest complained loudly at the volume and force of his rant, sharp pains poking at him each time he breathed. Al, being the mother hen he was, noticed instantly.

"Brother, you shouldn't yell. You'll irritate your injuries," he fretted, a leather hand moving to touch the boy, to placate him. Nobody missed Ed's flinch, including the alchemist himself. The younger boy froze and backed slowly off, the red glow of his eyes sharpening with worry.

The blond glanced a both of his visitors, eyes slightly wide, before averting his gaze to the empty spot where a leg should have been. Shit. Shit. Shit! That was his brother, dammit. Not some Cretan asshole. He was no longer in that fucking cell. No one would hurt him now. Not with blades, or whips, or fists. No more days spent in mind-blowing agony... And shit, he was panicking.

A cool hand touched his shoulder, a steady voice advising him to breathe. He tried, tried to force air in and out of his body as calmly as possible, but the images of that damned prison kept racing through his mind, unedited and unstoppable. A whimpering sound reached his ears, louder than the voice pleading for him to calm down. He couldn't; he just fucking couldn't!

Colors blurred together, pain suddenly jumping to the front of his mind in response to each vivid memory. "Stop it!" he yelled, wincing internally as he realized he actually spoke. "Please... Stop..." Suddenly, arms encircled him, warm and comforting rather than the harsh and cruel flesh he was expecting. Ed stiffened, unused to humane contact, but slowly relaxed into the embrace, pressing his face into the offered shoulder.

"It's ok, Ed," the voice murmured, deep and masculine, as the teen eased out from the throes of panic. "You're safe. No one will hurt you here." A hand rubbed his back, attempting to be comforting to the trembling teen. As Ed swallowed back a sob, the full implication of what just happened almost sent him into another panic attack. He had just fallen apart... In front of his brother... And the Colonel... Shit.

He picked himself out from the embrace, wanting nothing more than to hide himself in an alchemically produced hole. Golden eyes were moist and with his only hand encased in plaster, he could do nothing about it. Swallowing, he looked up, peeking at his audience through the cover of his blond hair. Mustang's dark eyes were surprisingly soft and tender; Al was shaking, metal bits of his armor clanging together quietly, like a wind-chime. Ed averted his gaze again, allowing his hair to shadow his eyes.

Where had that attack even come from? He couldn't just panic like that, it went against his image, which was now dangling precariously because of his actions. Dammit, things were getting complicated. Might as well apologize for making them go through that. He cleared his throat, keeping his eyes directed down. "I'm so-" Two voices cut him off before he could even finish his apology, both sounding rather angry at his attempt.

"Don't you even think about it, Fullmetal," Mustang threatened in a hushed whisper, glaring at the boy even though he knew that Ed wasn't even looking at either of them. "Everyone is allowed to have a moment of weakness, especially after they've been through something you just got out of." That got some reaction from Ed. He snapped his head up, lips tilted down into a scowl. His golden eyes were still slightly watery (even though that wasn't his fault) and narrowed dangerously at his commanding officer. And, though no matter how hard he tried to hide it, lines of pain were etched into his countenance, creasing his brow and lining the edges of his face. He opened his mouth to argue his point, but was once again cut off before a sound could leave his aggravated throat.

"Brother," Al said, his tone a mix of a trembling, fearful whisper, and annoyed patience. The trembling part caused remorse to well within the older brother, having heard that shake several times before. "It's ok. I know it wasn't my fault and it definitely wasn't yours. Stop feeling like you have to apologize for every little thing."

"But I flinched away from you…" Ed murmured, his gaze once again leveled at the sheets of his bed. Al, who spent a good minute measuring the strength of the bed, lowered himself carefully onto the mattress. The structure creaked and groaned under the large weight, but held, thankfully.

"And that was my fault. I probably shouldn't have reached for you while I was at the corner of your vision. Brought back some bad memories…" The tinny voice echoed around the bland hospital room, covering the incessant beeping that once filled the air with sound. As it faded, that annoying noise was the only thing that could be heard while the two brothers stared one another down, one's red eyes were impossibly compassionate while the other's golden hue was darkened with both guilt and self-loathing. "But," the suit of armor cut into the oppressive lack of dialogue, hard with determination. "That's not a mistake I'm going to make again."

"Al…" Ed whispered. And he was once again interrupted, but this time by a physical interaction. Al's metal arms wrapped lovingly around the alchemist's injured form, tight, but not enough to hurt the teen.

"You don't always have to be so strong. Let us carry the burden for you for once." Tears gathered in the underside of Ed's eyes, creating a thin film that threatened to encompass his entire field of vision in a waterlogged blur if it grew any farther. He opened his mouth and closed it, mind stumped as to what to say. So instead, he curled closer to his brother, resting his forehead on the cool, flat piece of metal that was his brother's shoulder. If tears leaked onto the plate, trickling slowly into the crevices in the armor, neither said anything.

With one last tight squeeze, drawing a muffled wince from the blond, Al lowered Ed back onto the bed, pulling back at the pained hiss as the teen shifted to a more comfortable condition. "Brother?" he questioned quietly.

"'m ok, Al," Ed reassured, small grin flashing across his lips. The younger boy's red eyes softened, the boy seeming pleased at the response, and he got off the bed, the mattress rising to its original shape. Roy was smiling softly at the scene and he sat back, once again content that everything would be alright. And again, that strange feeling crept up his spine, shivers racking his form.

"Knock knock," a familiar voice said from the doorway, bringing attention to the entrance. Havoc was leaning in the doorway, a sarcastic smirk playing across his mouth. "Wasn't aware you were awake boss." The facial expression said otherwise, sardonic and smug to the definition. Ed's cheeks flamed at the thought that the man might have been there for his embarrassing breakdown. "Brought some friends with me," he said as he stepped into the room, jerking a thumb behind him. All the blood in the blond's severely anemic body flooded to his cheeks, dusting it a dark pink, as the entirety of Mustang's troop, Armstrong included, followed the Lieutenant.

The moment Armstrong ducked his bald head through the door, all the color that had gathered in his face drained away. The man's blue eyes took literally no time to lock onto the blond teen's injured form, tears beading in the corners of his eyes. Ed swallowed as he watched the air begin to sparkle around the major's head, already cowering from the oncoming scene.

"Edward Elric!" the large man bellowed, the pink sparkles flashing brighter around the emotional face. "I admire your bravery in the face of this adversity!" His shirt vanished, Armstrong flexing his now bare muscles in its absence. "For it takes a true soldier to survive the trial that you just faced. I admire such strength in one so young. Allow me to show my gratitude!" He approached the bed with his arms wide open, surprisingly agile for his large size.

They almost realized Armstrong's intentions too late, the massive arms moving to encircle the severely wounded boy. Roy dived, seizing an arm, smirking as Havoc grabbed the other. In the end it took the entire group, including Alphonse, to restrain the overly affectionate giant. The Colonel was snickering as he sat back down, amused by the antics of the major. Hawkeye, back from a day at the office, took her place at his back, her face struggling to keep her amusement off it. Breda was full on laughing, his face bright red as he doubled over with force of his roaring guffaws. Fuery grinned, watching as his fellow soldiers lost themselves to delectation, with the exception of Falman, who never seemed to smile, though his eyes were twinkling with mirth. Havoc shook his head, chuckling slightly, at the sight of Armstrong, the large man standing with crossed arms in the corner he had been wrestled into, trying his best not to look sheepish. Even Ed was smiling, though the expression pulled on the healing cuts on his face.

"So, how're you feeling, chief?" Havoc asked, bringing Ed's golden gaze to him. The alchemist's expression fell slightly, though the bags under his eyes told his story better than any words would have. The pain creasing his face wasn't quite covered by the medication fed to him intravenously, a testament to just how badly he'd been hurt. At least his color was closer to normal than before, the grey giving way to a subtle peach.

"I'm fine, Havoc," he said, the hoarse tone of his voice not exactly proving his point. The blond man raised an eyebrow, skepticism written on his face. But he said nothing, understanding the reasoning behind the boy's denial of his condition.

"I'm glad you're alright Edward," Hawkeye said, her face taking on a maternal-like expression. "We were all very worried to hear that you'd been taken prisoner." Her chestnut eyes drifting towards her commanding officer, watching as his shoulders tensed at her words. Ed's expression turned stony, but thawed soon after, though a bit more forced than before.

"It wasn't anything I couldn't handle." Nobody missed the leather gauntlet moving to rest on Ed's thigh, right above a thick bandage wrapped around his knee. He opened his mouth to continue, but a loud shriek cut him off.

"Edward!" a girl screamed and Ed's mouth froze open, a look of horror lighting his gold eyes. Winry stormed into the room, her expression murderous. Falman, who had been standing by the door, inched away, appearing fearful. The teen's eyes scanned her, noting with relief that her trademark wrench was nowhere in sight. "What the hell did you do to yourself this time?! I told you to be careful you dumbass! Not willingly give yourself away! How freaking stupid can you get!" Ed relaxed slightly, sensing that her anger was just a guise. Tears peaked out from the corners of her blue eyes, trembling precariously but not yet heavy enough to fall down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry Winry..." he whispered, catching her eyes quickly before she hid them under her bangs. She walked up to his bed, hands clenched into shaking fists at her side.

"Don't apologize," she responded quietly, her voice high and quivering. The mechanic glanced up at Ed, revealing her leaking eyes. "J-just don't do it again." He smiled at her, the genuineness of it shocking a majority of the people in the room. Winry lost her composure, flinging her arms around her childhood friend's and sobbing into the green hospital garb on his chest. Ed yelped, clearly surprised, but recovered quickly and wrapped his only arm awkwardly around her, a small smile gracing his face. Roy and Al shared a look over their heads as Edward whispered comforting words to his best friend.

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"Alright mister," Winry said, hands planted on her hips. Her automail bag was slung over her shoulder, years of working up muscle preventing its weight from throwing her off balance. "If you're well enough to bitch and complain, you're well enough for me to attach your new arm and leg." Ed, who had been glaring at his brother (that tattle tale) paled slightly, scowling at the girl. He was at normal color again after a few days of competing with the shade of his bedsheets, something that relieved them all to no end. The bandages all remained however and he'd had another surgery on his knee to set a tendon that wasn't attaching correctly. And even though the doctors had him on a strict high calorie diet, he was still unnaturally thin for a boy his age and size, his skin stretched like paper over his bones. At his silence, Winry smirked, blue eyes flashing deviously. "If you're not ready, I can always wait another week..."

"No!" he snapped, his golden eyes flinty with anger. "I'm fine. Just attach the damn automail." Her expression, bright with amusement, faded slightly as his words. One thing Ed hated more than admitting his weakness was appearing weak, an averse effect of being without automail. Though, if he stopped being so reckless, he wouldn't have to deal with this so often, but this was Ed. Him and reckless were practically synonymous. Ed's definition of fine also varied from the rest of the world's, obviously, as he could barely move without wincing in his current condition. Even so, she couldn't leave him feeling vulnerable, even though she had half a mind not to give him his leg. With two functioning legs, he might make an escape attempt.

As she set the bag down on the bed, Al made a worried noise, metal sections clanging together as he shifted. Winry sighed, slightly annoyed, the air escaping from her nose, and brushed her hair behind her shoulders. Flipping open the latches on the case, she threw it open without care, lost in her own thoughts. Surely she wasn't making the wrong decision in giving him back his mobility. He wouldn't lie to her if he wasn't ready, would he? It took her a few moments to realize that someone was speaking to her. "Win? You alright?" She looked up, finding Ed's golden gaze trained on her rather than flicking between her and his brother. Her cheeks reddened unconsciously.

"W-what? Oh, yea. I'm fine. Just running through some procedure steps in my head." She smiled at him, forcing more energy into it than she felt. He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking upward in a sardonic smirk.

"Don't know them all? And here I thought you were a good mechanic." Her smile flattened instantly, her countenance spelling instant death.

"I was verifying 't want you stuck in that bed any more than you have to. Though maybe it would save me from having to build yet another set of automail. This stuff isn't cheap you know. You know what, maybe I won't reattach it." Her eyes were narrowed threateningly.

"Just give me my damn automail!" At the outburst, Winry relaxed, laughing softly. It was nice to have some normalcy after the two weeks of never-ending medical procedures. Pulling the metal arm out from the case, she ran her finger along the seam of the smooth metal, frowning at a minor scrape on the surface. The blond placed it gently onto the bed and walked around to study Ed's shoulder port, already falling into the process of re-installation. She had examined his ports earlier in the week at Colonel Mustang's suggestion and fixed the wiring problems that had been the source of the discomfort; this check just ensured that her work was holding.

"Hm?" she hummed, looking up at the teen when she realized he was speaking. His mouth was curled down in an annoyed frown, but his teeth gnawed at the inside of his lip, a sign of anxiety.

"C'mon Win, keep it together. Are you going to get this over with any time this century?" She rolled her eyes distractedly, picking up the arm and setting it against the shoulder port in preparation.

"If you'd quit your yapping, I'd get this over with sooner." She glanced at Al, standing over the bed, his hands wringing nervously together. "Al, why don't you wait outside? I'll tell you when I'm done." At her words, Ed visibly tensed then relaxed, his expression softening slightly in a look that could be connected with gratitude. Well, that was one thing she'd gotten right.

"Oh...OK," Al murmured, awkwardly shifting. His footsteps clanked loudly as he made his way out of his brother's hospital room. When he was gone, Winry fixed her gaze on her friend, placing a comforting hand onto the metal plating of his shoulder. He smiled softly at her, his lips trembling. He trusted Winry to do this right.

She braced her arm on his shoulder, the other grasping the new automail firmly so as to not let it slip from her hands. "Ready?" she whispered. He just nodded, eyes already squeezed shut. Taking a deep breath, she snapped the fake limb into place.

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Al flinched at his brother's muffled groan from within the hospital room, glancing back at the closed door. He wasn't sure if Winry had kicked him out to avoid the worried hovering or to get some alone time with Ed, which wouldn't surprise him in the least. Either way, however, he was stuck out here while the older boy's limbs were reattached. Though content to stand, he settled himself on a nearby bench, fixing his gaze at the polished tile floor.

All he could do was wait for now. He wanted to be with his brother, but he knew that Winry was enough for the older boy. It was strange to think that for the amount of time that Ed had been here, he hadn't left his side once when he was in the room. And those moments where he couldn't be there he spent with Colonel Mustang in the waiting room, worrying themselves sick in the white chairs. Needless to say, he'd gotten to know his brother's superior officer very well.

His leather hands tightened in his lap at the next pained moan, knowing that this one was the leg. Hopefully, Ed hadn't gone and torn something because his leg had jerked involuntarily due to the reattachment. Knowing his brother though, it was likely. The suit of armor stiffened as his blood seal tingled, confusion that he couldn't physically express filling him. That had been happening far too often lately, and he wasn't too sure what to blame it on. It was as if something was interrupting the flow of alchemy that anchored his soul to the armor and for that to happen, something must be wrong with his brother's alchemy.

The thought sent chills down his nonexistent spine. What if there was something wrong with his brother's alchemy? But what would interfere with alchemy? The only thing that crossed his mind as a possibility was another's alchemy circle. Nobody studied the patterns of the lacerations when they were patching Ed up. What if there was a circle written into the teen's own flesh? Al felt nauseated at even the thought, glancing up at the door to his brother's room. It had been strangely silent for a little while, something that both worried and relieved the little brother. That meant that Winry was done with the installation but it also meant that his brother had blacked out.

Al hauled himself to his feet, wincing at the loud creaking of the old armor. Just as he stood, the mechanic stuck her head out, exhaustion lines creasing her face. "Al, you can come back in now." He nodded, expecting as much.

"How is Brother?" he asked in a whisper. Sighing, she smiled at him, nodding slightly.

"He didn't start bleeding again if that's what you're asking. And he's got four limbs to terrorize the doctors with now," the blond remarked. She grimaced at that image, her blue eyes hardening with annoyance. "That is, when he wakes up." Without another word, she opened the door wider to let him in. Grabbing the edge of the slab of wood, he slid into the room, his gaze instantly fixing on the unconscious form of his older brother. Again, that strange feeling crept up from within the seal painted onto the inside of his back. Maybe he should go talk with the Colonel about these feelings.

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Roy stepped into his house, plopping his keys into the dish set next to the door. Walking lethargically into his den, he eyed the couch set in there for visitors longingly. This was his first time home in a while and all he wanted to do was collapse onto the nearest piece of furniture and fall into a deep coma for the next twelve hours. But alas, he was here for a shower and a change of clothes. Riza had been suggesting that he wasn't smelling the greatest for a few hours, but it was only when she mentioned that he was acting like a worried father that he decided to take a break. Ed was with his brother and his mechanic; he would be fine for a few hours.

Groaning like an old man, he staggered into the bathroom, his hands blindly fumbling for the light switch by the door frame. Brightness assaulted retinas over-sensitized by exhaustion and he turned away with a wince, eyes briefly falling shut. Upon opening them, he was met with the reflection of himself, or at least that's what he thought it was. Black bags hung beneath sagging eyes, his normally shinning irises dulled into the likeness of coal. Stubble spotted his face, dark enough to appear as dirt rather than the hair that it was. Worry lines had meshed with the growing fatigue marks to create an aging effect on him. His hair was unkempt, obsidian strands falling into his face. Eying the image with disgust, he turned away, understanding why his lieutenant had finally turned him away from the hospital.

After taking a rather fast shower, he stepped out from behind the curtain, reaching blindly for the towel hung strategically by the tub. With a sigh, he wrapped it around his waist and stretched. The warm water had rejuvenated him slightly, but a few hours of sleep would do more. Yawning, he glared at the clothes crumpled on the floor where they had been thrown after being shed in a hurry. He would eventually have to pick them up. That day was not today. Snickering drunkenly at his defiance, he moved over to the mirror to analyze his appearance once more. Or, at least, that's what he meant to do, when something bright caught his eye.

On the bathroom tile, a small square of what appeared to be paper was laying on the floor by his pants. What the fuck...? When had that gotten there? He usually didn't carry paper with him, especially not in his pockets. Oh, wait. This was what Havoc had wanted him to look at. Something about it being found at the Cretan building... It took Mustang a few moments to piece the information together, a task that would have normally taken him seconds, if that. His eyes widened and he snatched the folded piece of paper from the floor, studying its surface. It crinkled in his hand, hard and brittle due to the amount of dried blood that it contained within its fibers.

He carefully unfolded the small paper, wincing at every crinkle, every noise that showed its frailty. It appeared to be blank, the amount of time it had been soaking in the blood having erased all possible marks. But upon closer scrutiny, a small black line showed through the dried brown. Another was clear on the only white corner of the sheet, this one curving, another traced beneath it. Small symbols were placed between the two lines and he brought it closer to his face, squinting as if it'd bring the image into better focus.

Gasping in shock, he surged from the room, towel fluttering behind him, and slid to a stop at his study, dripping water onto the hardwood flooring. Flipping on the light, he sat heavily into his chair, flattening the paper on the desk in front of him. His eyes tracing the outlines pressed into the paper, his hand floundered for a pencil. Taking hold of one, he carefully connected the lines he could see, his breath freezing in his throat. No way... No fucking way. He swallowed harshly as he lifted the paper, gazing with horror at the basic transmutation circle that he had just drawn. Shit. Obviously, there was more to the circle, but with this little information, it was impossible to tell what.

He burst from the study and headed to his bedroom, not forgetting that he was only in a towel. Within moments, he was dressed and heading out the door, fear-fueled adrenaline rushing through his veins. The paper was once again secured in his pocket as evidence to his claim. He had to get to the hospital.

DA: Exhausted Mustang makes a return! And I somehow managed to mix plot and fanservice with that last scene. XD Skillz. Haha. And Winry finally makes an appearance! Speaking of Winry, my wig just came in! I'm so excited!

Anyways, 10 reviews last chapter... Hot damn. I've been averaged around 7 per chapter... 10 just boggles my mind. I humbly thank you all. I promise the actual plot will start up again next chapter. This was just a break for everyone. But they won't be resting for long... Hehehe

I'm gonna go work on my wig now! Tell me what you all think! I'll see you all next week!

May your hearts stay strong,

DarkAngel555