.:Five:.

Must Be That Irresistible Mustang Charm

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Ed awoke gradually the next morning with the disconcerting tension of someone who doesn't quite remember where he is. Feeling oddly exposed, he opened his eyes blearily and lifted his head. The sheets that had covered him lay on the floor next to the twin bed.

He flopped back on his pillow, looking around the room. It was a familiar and lifeless place, just cozy enough to be comfortable. The dorms were always like that. Ed couldn't remember staying in this particular room before, but they were all nearly identical anyway, with two twin beds—one for him and one for Al…whose bed was empty.

Sitting up slowly, he stretched his arms above his head, feeling a strange friction on his shoulders. He looked down in brief surprise at the shirt he was wearing. It had been ages since he'd felt any sort of material on his chest. He had sacrificed himself by marking his bare torso, and he'd spent his time in the gate the same way…

At any rate, Al had loaned him one of his shirts last night, and to Ed's chagrin, it fit perfectly. Yesterday, Ed had had a difficult time taking his eyes off of his brother, who was both familiar and achingly foreign at once. Or at least it had been difficult until his head hit the pillow. He had been so exhausted that he was pretty sure he'd fallen asleep mid-sentence. At the very least, Al had taken his shoes and socks off.

He yawned widely, sliding from the bed and padding out of the room in his bare feet. The cramped kitchen was lit in candle light only, which, coupled with the chill in the air, suggested to Ed that the electricity and heating had gone out at some point in the night. But what was most important was that Alphonse sat at the kitchen table, drinking something that Ed had sorely missed: coffee. Al smiled as he walked in and pushed a mug toward his brother.

"You haven't changed at all," he said with a laugh. "The best way to get you up and out of bed is always to move all of your blankets."

The coffee warmed Ed's throat on the way down. "Why is it so early?" he moaned as he caught a glimpse of the sky outside through the open window. It was barely light out. It couldn't have been past six in the morning.

"Did you really think we were going to get a full night's sleep?" Al asked with a familiar smile. It was the soft smile he'd always had, before the armor. It was strange seeing it again, after all these years, but not in a bad way. And his eyes were like his mother's, both green and brown at once as though they couldn't decide which was better.

Ed suddenly realized Al was waiting for a response to a statement he hadn't heard. "What?"

"Captain Hawkeye called a few minutes ago to wake us up. Or she woke me up, anyway. There's trouble, and they need someone who actually knows what's going on," he added, looking at Ed pointedly.

"So this is a punishment for knowing too much?" Ed groaned.

"Only you would think of it that way, Brother," Al said, amused, as he stood. "The Captain is sending a car. It'll be here in five minutes, and you need to get dressed. You'll have to borrow more of my clothes."

"Thanks," he said as Al took a candle and walked back into the bedroom. He leaned back a little in his chair, steadying himself with a hand against the wall to stare through the door at his brother, who was busy rummaging through his trunk. Al's hair was cropped shorter than Ed's, almost the way it had been when they were younger, but it was long enough to fall into his eyes as he searched. He brushed it out of the way and looked up to see Ed watching him. "What?"

"You're different than I remembered," he said bluntly, because Al knew him well enough not to take it the wrong way.

"You're exactly how I remembered," his brother said with a grin, one that suddenly looked almost smug. "Exactly."

Ed instantly knew what his brother meant. "I couldn't grow," he growled defensively, without much bite. Al had always been the one of the only people whose remarks about height Ed managed to tolerate.

"I know, I know—because the Gate is balanced and wouldn't let you change in any way. So you're sixteen in your mind, but your body looks fifteen," he laughed, "and you're as tall as I am."

Ed grimaced. "Who are you calling a pipsqueak so tiny you can't even see?" he barked. His brother just smiled and tossed him some clothes, black pants like Ed was used to but with a blue shirt and dark jacket instead. There was a knock on the door, and Al shoved his brother into the bathroom.

"Hurry and get dressed," Al urged. "That'll be the officer Hawkeye sent. Besides, it's time for you to do what you do best."

"What's that?" asked Ed.

Al shot him a mischievous grin. "Show off."

.

The first thing Ed thought as the car approached the disaster area was that Mustang must have accidentally managed to blow up half the street. Once he looked more closely, though, he realized that this was probably not the case. Which was almost too bad, in his opinion, because it could have provided a million opportunities for taunting his commanding officer in the future.

The rattling car had wound past several buildings that were partially or completely on fire, and rubble and debris from fallen structures littered the road, making it hard for their anxious driver to maneuver the car forward. People were being carried limply from collapsing buildings, and huge hoses were drawn out like bright green snakes across the pavement. As they drove on, they began to pass more and more military officers who were running about in uniforms streaked with dark soot.

Ed spotted part of Mustang's unit further down the street. Havoc and Breda were aiming hoses at the nearest burning building. Hawkeye and a few other unfamiliar officers had their guns drawn but lowered. They were warily watching a group of black Keepers, some of whom were bouncing on the roof of a blackened car and some of whom appeared to be daring each other to get close to the fire, laughing eerily all the while. Mustang was shouting orders farther away, dark in contrast to the enormous cloud of orange-grey smoke and flame that twisted in a tall column behind him.

The road was blocked partway by the remains of a fallen lamppost, so Al and Ed leapt from the car and walked the rest of the way on foot. Mustang glanced at them as they approached, his good eye filled with something like relief. Ed caught his eye and flicked his gaze from the roaring fire to his commanding officer, grinning. Mustang caught on immediately, his face darkening. "It wasn't me!" he said.

His commanding officer—or was he? Come to think of it, Ed wasn't entirely sure that one was still considered a member of the military after being missing for a year—began to explain the situation without preamble.

"Good thing you're here," he said over the roaring of the fire and the shouting of his men. He wiped his brow, and his hand left a trail of soot behind. "It'd be great if you could make sense of some of this mess. We received word of a spreading fire about an hour ago. No one's sure what caused it, but it's spreading faster than anything we've ever seen. The fire leaves behind—well, traces. Just like an alchemical fire. It's not natural, and we've gotten no further in stopping it since we've been here. It just moves from one area to the next," he said, shaking his head and turning toward one of the burning buildings, where Breda was struggling to beat back the flames with the water hose.

"Not sure how much help I'll be, Mustang," Ed said carefully. "If this is just another consequence of opening the gate …" His eyes drifted as though drawn to the cloud of dark grey smoke that burst from behind the burning building.

The air was sooty and grey, and it was hard to see through the fog-like patches, but Ed could just make out something amid the soot and bursts of orange. "Well, there's your problem," he said slowly, pointing. "It's not just the gate, then…"

"What, the smoke?" Mustang asked, craning his head as though it would help him to better see around the building.

"No," Ed corrected. "It's what's in the smoke that's the problem. It's a Pyro," he said, giving his own word for the nameless creature and shuddering slightly at the memory of harsh flames. "The fire's probably the work of that Beast."

"Fantastic," Mustang muttered acidly, still peering distractedly into the smoke.

"Do you know a way that we can stop it, Brother?"

Ed shrugged, blinking soot from his eyes. "I don't know," he said doubtfully. "Pyros…they're trouble."

"What exactly is it, Fullmetal?" Mustang asked. "Does it have a weak spot?"

Ed couldn't stop a laugh from escaping his lips. "I've never actually seen one before! They're always covered in that grey smoke…"

"Well, it's probably made up of fire on the outside, right?" Al asked, watching as a few bright flares coughed their way through the heavy smoke. "Can't we just put it out?"

"I don't think so," Ed said. "It just makes them back down. Their stomachs are hot—like fire, or maybe lava—so they eat only things that burn easily. Fuel. It's probably eating something even now…" He paused. "I mean, if you can manage to lead it to water and drown it, you're golden. But they're pretty big, and Central isn't exactly known for its large bodies of water…"

"Brigadier-General Mustang, sir!" They turned to see Hawkeye approaching in quick strides. "The fire's spreading again, sir. We'll need to start moving out of its way soon." Behind her, the officers were tugging the fire equipment away from the blaze. The fire engines were already rushing away, probably off to fight the fire from a better location.

Mustang nodded. "Give us a minute," he said, and then looked back at Ed, his face grim. "How likely is it to attack?"

"Not very," Ed said slowly. "Once they find something decent to eat, they'll sit there forever. So it's peaceful. Considering. It'll probably only attack or eat someone if provoked."

The Brigadier-General nodded. "Alright. We just have to find a way to get rid of it." He started down toward his men, rattling off orders to move back from the fire.

"How do you know so much about this…Pyro," Al asked suddenly, "if you don't even know what it looks like? The fire in its stomach?" His face was bright; the fire had crept closer before Ed had even realized.

Ed gave his brother a grim smile. "You know, Al. I can only talk about the things I've seen firsthand..."

Al's expression was horrible. Not quite pity, but his eyes grew wide enough that Ed had to clap him on the shoulder. "It's nothing, Al," he said quietly, "I'm fine now."

"Brother—"

A cacophony of yelling interrupted whatever Al had been about to say, for which Ed was grateful. The pair of them spun around to see the fire creeping toward them even more quickly, with the tower of grey smoke and flames trailing just behind. Mustang and Hawkeye were just before it, retreating as the creature moved out from the side of the building.

Most of the officers were left to avoid the flames on foot. The fire was not progressing fast enough to be life-threatening, but its steady spread was both frightening and unnatural.

"What's it doing, Fullmetal?" Mustang asked as he caught up to where the Elric brothers were backing away. "Isn't it supposed to be peaceful and not chase people?"

"It's not supposed to. Not unless something…maybe it didn't take well to all of the fire extinguishing." Ed muttered to himself. "I don't understand."

"Well, try to!" Mustang yelled.

"I don't think you're helping, sir," Hawkeye rebuked as they all continued to move away from the flames, which were flickering forward even more quickly now. She changed trajectory a bit, moving away at a slant and motioning for the others to follow, which they did.

So did the Pyro, moving after them deliberately, confidently. It was gaining on them so much that they were forced to turn around to jog rather than back away slowly.

There was a shout of alarm in the distance. Gunshots. Suddenly, Havoc and Breda burst from around the side of the Beast, guns in their hands, with Falman hurrying after them.

"These aren't even slowing it down," Breda said, waving his handgun in the air. He holstered it and looked about quickly. "We can't stay here."

Hawkeye frowned. "The street's too wide. Whatever it is, it looks like we might be safer if we head through the Market District."

"Agreed," Ed said as he and Al began jogging through the open street and toward the safety of Central's shopping district. Ed looked back as they ran; over the shoulders of Mustang's men, he could just make out the twisting grey-orange tower of smoke, which was smoothly trailing behind them, ash and dust billowing around it as it moved.

He swore under his breath, wondering why the Pyro was so drawn to Mustang and his men. And something was bugging him, anyway: why was it moving so slowly? An angry Pyro could have easily and quickly swallowed anyone who'd pissed it off, but this one trailing behind them almost casually. Ed had no idea what the hell was going on.

They reached the narrow alleyways of the Market District, which was crammed with tall buildings and shopping displays that cluttered the sidewalks. Ed and Al came to a halt about thirty feet in, and the others stopped as well, looking back. The early morning light was not yet high enough to reach them, nestled as they were between the tall buildings, and the shadows only made it easier to see the Pyro as it grew closer to them. The odd jets of flame that burst from the smoke brightened the narrow street in flashes, like fireworks.

"We need a plan," Mustang said quietly, pacing. The Beast was right up against the sides of the buildings, and as best as Ed could figure out, it was prodding itself as if to see whether it could fit through the opening. "We can't keep running forever."

"What is that thing?" Havoc asked, shaking his head. Breda and Falman mirrored his expression of astonishment.

"Like I said earlier," Ed noted, ignoring the question, "the only way I know of to kill it is by tricking it into water. They can't see very well with all the smoke, so it's not too hard. But I don't think there's anything deep enough to drown it here…" he paused, "…unless you just want to trap it somewhere? It worked well enough yesterday."

There was a silence, in which everyone puzzled over how that could work. At this distance, they could hear snorts and snuffling as the creature continued trying to press itself into the narrow street.

"The stadium's only a few blocks away," Falman said finally. "And the main entrance doors in front should be wide enough for it to fit through…" As one, they peered at the tower of smoke. There was really no telling how large the Beast was.

"It'll fit," Ed said confidently. "The doors have to be twenty, twenty-five feet across. It's just a matter of getting it there."

"What about the yard?" Havoc asked. Ed turned to him, confused. "In front of the stadium," Havoc clarified. "The huge yard, with grass and benches. It might be hard to lure it there if it can run us down in all that open space."

"There's a fountain," Al added. "I don't know that it will be much help, but…"

"We'll split up," Mustang said decisively. All eyes swiveled to him. "Some of us will create a diversion and make sure that thing chases us. The rest of us will alert the Kessel's men and the fire brigades to make sure that backup will be waiting at the stadium."

Hawkeye's face looked grim, as though she had reservations about the dangerous plan, but she was the first to nod. The others followed suit. "Let's go," she said.

There was a side alley to their left. They took it, and the air cleared before them as they escaped the Pyro's billowing, ashy smoke. Almost as soon as they disappeared from view, a roar echoed through the streets.

They took another side street to the right, hopping over vendor's stands and the merchandise that now littered the street. Mustang turned to see that everyone had followed and gave them a look that said, Ready? He sprinted out into the open street, a two-car road that the Pyro would have better access to, and the rest of them followed. From around the side of a building the Beast came, thundering after them to eat away the distance between it and its prey.

Vaguely, Ed felt eyes on him. The streets felt abandoned, and most people appeared to have gotten out of the city when the monsters came and the electricity fizzled out. But as they streaked past the grimy buildings, Ed could just make out frightened faces in the dim windows.

Someone shoved him, and he started. "Go, boss!" Havoc panted. The street split off into two ahead. "We've got this one for now. You and Al get us some help."

"Wait!" Hawkeye cried. "The creature in Aquaroya followed—isn't it more likely to chase Ed?"

"We'll be fine," Ed said, and before they could argue, he grabbed his brother by the sleeve and dragged him to the right as Mustang and his men ran off in the opposite direction.

After a few paces, the thundering din of the Beast's footsteps began to fade away. Ed chanced a look behind him and saw the smoke receding into the distance down the street. He and Al slowed to an easy jog. "At least I know this one doesn't hold grudges," Ed murmured to himself before turning to his brother. "Look—there's a telephone booth right over there," he said, pointing. "Call the fire brigade. They'll have a radio in all of the cars, so they'll get the message around. Tell them to hurry."

"What? What about you, Brother?"

"There's still a police station near the stadium, right?" Ed asked, without waiting for an answer as he began backing away toward where Mustang and his men had vanished into the smoke. "Meet me there!"

Al seemed to know there wasn't much time to argue, but he tried anyway. "What are you going to do, Brother?" he asked frantically.

"I'll figure out some way to help," Ed called as he took off running.

"How?" Al yelled, sounding annoyed. "There's no alchemy!"

"Then I guess I'll just have to follow them with a bucket of water," Ed muttered to himself.

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The cloud of smoke didn't seem to be moving anymore, and it wasn't difficult to follow until Ed grew closer to it. Once he was near the Beast itself, the air became impossibly thick and warm, and ashes danced all around him and into his face and eyes. He knew he was close, could hear familiar shouts and something that sounded like gunshots, but he could barely see two feet in front of his face. After nearly running headfirst into a building for the second time, Ed had enough.

He let out a curse, which made him feel a bit better, and then decided to try this from a different angle. It took him a minute or two to figure out which way was away from the smoke, but once his vision began to clear, he walked until he found what he was looking for.

Ed clambered up the fire escape, the rusty metal nearly biting through the skin of his flesh hand as he threw himself upward. He blinked ashes out of his eyes and finally reached the rooftop. He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do if he found Mustang and his men, but he felt he was probably best-equipped to figure something out and pressed on anyway.

As luck had it, Ed didn't have to look too hard. The smoke was billowing from the far corner of the building, and the shouts were coming from below. He rushed over and peered down to see Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Hawkeye shouting frantically and shooting into the smoke. The Beast was close, certainly close enough to attack them, but it wasn't moving at all.

What was going on? And if they were free to run, why…?

He realized what must have happened. The Beast was at the corner of the building, and Mustang's men were here, on the east side. The building to the north was very close, and the Beast was making the same snuffling noises it had earlier as it had tried to cram itself into an area that was too narrow.

Ed rushed to the north side of the building and looked down. Sure enough, through the haze and smoke that floated upward into his face, he could just make out a figure with dark hair and a blue military uniform.

He blinked in realization, and couldn't help but grin. "Of course it likes Mustang," Ed snickered. That might explain why it had followed them so slowly, at any rate: it was intrigued by something else marked by fire alchemy rather than angered.

The alleyway was a dead end, and Mustang was pressed against the wall. Ed couldn't see whether he was hurt or not through the heavy smog.

"You okay down there, Bastard?" Ed yelled.

"Fine," he heard through Beast's snuffling and angry growls. Mustang didn't seem surprised that Ed was there. "But the side of that building is starting to crack…"

"Okay, hang on!" Ed said, coughing. He walked carefully along the edge of the building, hugging the short railing as he looked for something, anything he could use. There wasn't much to work with. All he could see through the smoke was broken windows and damaged cars.

Then, through the grey, he caught a flash of red metal. A fire hydrant. The Beast was blocking the way for Mustang's men, who were only now beginning to spread out frantically. But Ed could get there faster. The building to the north was just close enough, he thought. There was a pile of rubble to his left where it looked like someone had kicked in the door to the roof, probably during the evacuations. A closer look revealed that the door was thick, and that it hadn't been damaged.

Ed pulled the door over the side of the building and laid it across. It just reached. The building groaned loudly beneath him.

Mustang had obviously noticed his insane scheme. "Fullmetal," he called out, "the building's cracking. Are you out of your—?"

But Ed rushed across before he could change his mind, careful not to make a false step in the gray haze. He could hear Mustang shouting, but paid him no mind. He found the fire escape quickly. His mouth was beginning to taste like ash, and the climb down felt much harder than the climb up.

It was almost surreal being this close to the Pyro. The smoke rolled out in billowing curtains, making Ed choke and blink his irritated eyes, and the Beast was so close that he could feel the warmth emanating from its thick skin. Luckily, though, the red fire hydrant was easy to spot, even in the thick haze. All he needed now was a wrench…Or not, he thought. His automail hand might be enough. The screw was larger than most, and he twisted it with all of his strength. The gears in the automail did most of the work, though, and within a minute the water pressure nearly took his hand off as it burst from the pipe, soaking the Pyro.

There was a loud roar, and Ed was suddenly inhaling hot steam. The smoking creature backed away hurriedly, away from Ed and the alleyway, and Ed was thankful that Mustang's men had cleared out of the area back there.

The smoke receded enough for Ed to see Mustang come out of the alleyway, dodging the water that continued to jet out of the hydrant.

Ed opened his mouth to say looks like I'm back to saving your ass again, but it might have come out better if he hadn't fallen into a fit of coughs.

Mustang thumped him once on the back, hard. "You idiot," he snarled. "You could have gotten yourself killed."

"Been there," Ed managed, wiping ash from his eyes.

Footsteps. "You look awful, boss," someone said from behind him. Ed and Mustang both turned to see Havoc, Falman, Breda, and Hawkeye, who stared at Ed with wide eyes.

Ed looked down. Standing above the Pyro's smoke for so long had allowed the soot to cling to his clothes, and he probably looked something like a chimney sweep.

He coughed again. "We still need to get that thing to the stadium," he said, changing the subject. The Pyro was still there, grumbling and grunting to itself a safe distance away from the spouting water.

"Let us take care of that," Hawkeye said. "You and Al need to make sure everything's arranged at the stadium. "

"Yeah, without water as backup, we might be screwed," Breda said wryly, ignoring Hawkeye's reproachful glare for his language.

"Well, the Pyro seems to have taken a liking to our favorite flame alchemist anyway," Ed said, noting from Mustang's surprised look that he hadn't quite made the connection yet. "I'm just not sure if it wants to eat you or love you forever," he laughed.

Havoc and Breda were trading grins that disappeared when Mustang turned around. "We'll keep moving, then," he said. "Just make sure the fire brigade is waiting," he called over his shoulder as he jogged off. His men followed. Ed watched as, after a moment's breath, the Pyro moved off down another street in the same direction Mustang had gone.

"Yeah," Ed said to himself. "I think it's true love."

.

By the time Ed tracked his brother down, he had a throbbing headache. Al jerked upright from where he had been leaning against the station wall in wait for Ed. His eyes flickered worriedly up and down Ed's soot-covered body, and Ed flashed him a smile.

"I'm fine," he said tiredly, pausing to cough again. "Just caught a bit of the barbecue."

Something in Al's expression looked disapproving, but he only swallowed and nodded his head toward the stadium. Ed turned to follow the movement, and saw a group of fifteen or twenty fire fighters readying their trucks near the central fountain in front of the stadium. There was only one hydrant, it seemed, and one farther across the street near a cluster of shops.

"With any luck, they'll be able to herd the Beast into the stadium," Al said as the two of them began moving toward the men. He gave his brother a sidelong glance. "And if Brigadier-General Mustang and the others are anywhere near as exhausted as you are, we'll need all the help we can get."

"I'm fine," Ed said, wondering how Al did that. He was tired, and his cough had only gotten worse. "Let's just get everything set up, okay?"

Al nodded, but kept a close eye on his brother as they further explained the situation to the firemen and helped to stretch the hoses across the wide lawn. The smoke from the Beast, which had been faint and distant only a few moments ago, was creeping steadily closer as Mustang and his men approached.

Somehow, small crowds were beginning to form around the stadium, and in the shops and houses that bordered the open area, people peered out of windows and hung out of doors, obviously aware that something was happening. The firemen and the odd military officer began shooing people away as the wind picked up, twisting the smoke in all directions. As the Beast neared, it became difficult to tell which street it was coming in from; the billowing smoke covered too much, and the breeze wasn't helping.

Mustang and Havoc burst forth from the smoke, vaguely sooty and obviously out of breath. Breda, Hawkeye, and Falman followed a few seconds later from the next street over, guns readied for whatever they were worth.

Then came the smoke. It rolled out in waves, engulfing the fire trucks—Ed heard one of the hoses spurt on, too late—and all of the trees and benches in the Beast's way. The firemen shouted in alarm, and those Ed could still see backed away quickly, but the smoke washed forward like a grey wall, swallowing anything in its midst.

It was heading straight for the fountain, a ridiculously enormous ceremonial structure in the middle of the lawn. The smoke was too thick to see anything, but Ed distantly heard splashing and something that sounded suspiciously like, "Never been so happy to be soaking wet..."

The Beast had stopped, huddling indecisively next to the fountain. There were shouts, and Ed turned to see several of the firemen struggling with the fire hose.

"The other one was on before the Beast came," Ed murmured to himself. "Turn it off!" he shouted, ignoring the fact that he had no authority here. "Turn it off, come up behind it, and then turn the water back on. You have to corral it into the stadium."

One of the men hurried to the hydrant to switch the water off. "Brother!" Al said, and Ed spun around to see the orange-gray smog rushing at him again. Before he could move, ashes and debris once again invaded his senses, making him choke. He thought he heard footsteps running away—was that Al? No, there were too many—and he blinked his eyes against the smoke, backing away instinctively until someone ran into him.

No. It was something. Something large and solid, and it knocked him roughly onto his back.

There was a groan of pain to his left—that was Al, right there—and then the air rose to a boil around him, and something hairy snorted and sniffed just above him, brushing against him in hot bursts that felt like they burned through his skin. Ed yelped in pain, gasping and choking in the grey air, his head throbbing and his thoughts becoming hazy.

Through the haze came an odd, familiar feeling, a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire on his skin, but something that Ed's clouded mind couldn't quite place. The Pyro panted, its hot breath steaming over Ed once, twice. Then it moved past him. Ed could feel its heat recede in the distance. A few moments later, the smoke receded as well, followed by the shouts and footsteps of the firemen.

He coughed, his eyes tearing up from the ashes. Wiping a hand angrily across his face, he sat up. The world spun. His skin still felt tender and warm, not quite burned, but something close to it.

Dimly, he became aware of a presence next to him. He turned to see Al lying a few feet away, and instinctively dragged himself closer.

"Al?" His brother was completely covered in dark soot, and he exhaled hard as Ed helped him sit up. "You okay?"

"I think so," Al said. "But my arm…" he clutched it to his chest. "I fell on it when it ran into us."

As one, they turned to the stadium. It appeared that the smoke was between the wide doors of the gate, but they couldn't be quite sure. Ed felt the need to get up, to make sure that they'd succeeded, but as he moved, he began coughing again. Al pulled him back down with his good arm.

"You'll be of no use to anyone if you hack out a lung, Brother," Al said quietly.

"Yeah, I know," Ed said wearily, dissolving into another fit of coughs. Trying to stand so quickly had made the world tilt the wrong way, and his head had not stopped throbbing. He swore he could hear a pattering noise, and then he realized that someone was running toward them.

"Paramedics," a blond man said, without preamble. "We're here to help."

"Joy," Ed said dimly, realizing where this would lead and not relishing the idea of a stay in the hospital. He thought he heard Al begin chastising him, but couldn't quite make out what his brother was saying. The fair-haired man helped Ed up and put something over his face. A breathing mask, he realized. And there was suddenly an emergency van nearby for him to lean against, or maybe it had been there before…

Al was looking at him in concern from where they now sat in the rear of the vehicle, and Ed had the presence of mind to take the mask off for a moment and flash his brother a wordless grin. Al smiled back, a half-exasperated what-can-you-do look.

"Aren't you two a pair?" a voice said from over Ed's shoulder. He jumped, cursing under his breath at the fog in his mind.

Mustang stood there, his trademark smirk pasted across his face. Much to Ed's chagrin, he had somehow gotten away with only a smattering of soot on his uniform. The others, who trailed behind him, had fared similarly well. "How did you manage to end up like this? I'm the one it was chasing, after all."

"Fuck off, Mustang," Ed said. It might have had more bite if he hadn't wheezed the words out. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Mustang blink, looking almost concerned.

The blond paramedic, who had been checking Al's arm, looked up. "We'll need to bring you both in," he said authoritatively. Ed might have protested, except that he could see how tired his brother looked and felt that it was probably reflected in his own face.

Ed broke into another series of coughs as someone began speaking. Havoc and Breda moved forward to get Al into the van, where they laid him down. Then Ed was helped up again, but this time he was laid down onto something springy—a stretcher, maybe?—but his head started to spin again as he moved. By the time they'd laid him down in the car, right across from Al, he had already started to fade.

"Rest, Fullmetal," someone said. Ed's face split into a wide yawn and he slipped into dreams of swirling grey ash.

.

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A/N: Trivia Question: I did not actually invent the Pyro myself. I stole it from a story and renamed it. Anyone know where the not-Pyro comes from? If you answer correctly you get…well, bragging rights! (Yay!)

Thanks for dropping by. Please leave a review on your way out!

~ket

Next Chapter: In Which Edward May or May Not Throw a (Sophisticated) Temper Tantrum