Hi everybody! I'm back after quite a while. My trip was boring.

I haven't updated in a while 'cause school just came back here and I got the new Pokémon (version Y - guess they ran outta colours, huh?) game so…got hooked onto that. Yeah. (Ha, the song in the background said 'yeah' as well. Tennis Court by Lorde.)

Reference was Monsters Inc. YAAY! Congrats to over 1006 for the first answer. Everyone else who got is awesome in my books. And everyone else who didn't as well.

Hmm… What to do this time… OH!

"Have you ever tried shawarma?"

A little tougher this time, but I PUT FAITH IN ALL YOU FANDOMS!

One more thing - I don't know much about Prince Claudio (since the FMA game he appears in wasn't released outside Japan and Google was being useless) but I needed a sort of evil guy in the mix and he was the best candidate. Apologies if he's OOC or something.

ONWARD!

(Of Parties and Pulse Rates)

A large number of people had gathered in another of Kin Palace's great halls, this one with a large, rectangular table to one side and a huge empty area to the other.

Many people milled about in the space, where a large table of finger food had been laid out, the table itself covered with a white cloth and looking about to collapse with the weight of the food.

Edward was eyeing it sneakily, Roy noted.

The Emperor was somewhere in the midst of the crowds, mingling with his subjects quite happily.

Roy noticed Prince Claudio being followed about by a not-so-discreet group of girls. He scowled a little.

Tyrell was somewhere around too, most likely beside the food. He was wearing the same style of clothing as Roy and Edward, only his 'kimono' was pale orange with little violet orchids decorating it. His hair had been scrubbed clean so it shone a strange shade of pure white. Roy had been right - the boy certainly was a lot better looking now that he'd been cleaned up.

The shoes they had been required to wear were something like sandals, but worn over split-toed socks. When putting them on, all Edward had to say was, 'Winry told me once you should never wear socks and sandals. Here I am ignoring her again…'

Underneath Roy's own kimono, stashed away under the belts and layers, was the small pistol Hawkeye had supplied him with - not loaded - alongside his ignition gloves. Edward held the case of bullets on his side.

The boy had his right arm tucked up his sleeve slightly, as if trying to hide his auto-mail. Roy guessed it was because everyone kept staring at it, and Edward didn't want to have to keep explaining what it was, how it worked and why he had it.

"Can I go get some food?" the boy asked quickly, looking pleadingly between the table and Roy. "I'm really hungry."

"Go ahead," Roy said with a sigh. "Just remember your manners. And don't eat too much; I don't want to have to deal with you having a stomach ache or being sick."

"I won't!" Edward replied, darting away.

Roy hoped that 'I won't' was referring to eating too much, not remembering his manners.

Looking around at everyone in the hall, Roy sighed. There were a few girls around, but the majority of them were chasing after Claudio. He hardly knew anyone here apart from Edward and Tyrell, but they weren't exactly the type of company the Colonel was looking for.

He leant on the wall behind his back, surveying the scene with a slight amount of boredom.

He began to observe Edward, making sure the boy was behaving himself and not acting like an idiotic, egocentric prat.

Over by the food, Edward was trying to scope out what he deemed suitable to eat. No, not that. Too many vegetables. Not that either. And I don't even know what that is…

Eventually, he settled for something he recognised but had no idea what it was called - those sweet thingies on the stick, he said to Alphonse when he wanted them.

Reaching forward with his right arm, he picked one up by the stick and took a contented bite, quite pleased that there was no-one here to tell him off for eating dessert first.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Edward looked beside him at the person who'd spoken, a young woman of about eighteen. She had long black hair done up in fancy buns, and wore a peach coloured kimono with purple flower petals printed onto it.

"Yes?" Edward asked before taking another bite of those sweet thingies on the stick.

"I apologise for intruding," the girl said softly. "But I am very curious about your arm. Is it made of metal?"

Edward looked to his hand, tilting it ever-so-slightly and swallowing the food in his mouth. "Yeah. It is. It's called auto-mail."

"We don't have that here in Kambei," she said. After a little hesitation, she asked, "Why do you have it? Did something happen to your arm?"

"Yeah," Edward answered. "There was a war back in my country, you see, and that's how I lost my arm. My leg too."

The girl looked at him in curious awe. "So your leg is made of metal too?"

"Yup," Edward replied with a nod, giving his shin a sharp rap with his knuckles for emphasis. He took another bite of those sweet thingies on the stick.

"That must have been very sore," the girl commented. "Losing your limbs."

"Well, yeah." Edward swallowed again. "It was. And getting this auto-mail was no walk in the park either. The surgery you have to go through to have it put in really hurts, and it's painful learning how to walk again afterwards. But it's okay now. I'm fine."

The girl smiled. "Okay. Thank you for telling me. I was very interested. You will have to forgive me; I have never seen anything quite like this 'auto-mail' before."

"That's alright," Edward told her. "I don't mind."

She moved off.

Edward pulled another bun off the stick and chewed it happily, watching her go.

"How did you really lose your arm and leg?"

Edward jumped at the sound of Tyrell's voice. He glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, it's me. And I'm really intrigued. I want to know why you're missing an arm and a leg," Tyrell said, munching on some kind of tiny, deep-fried roll.

"I just said it," Edward told him nonchalantly. "There was a war, and a couple of Ishbalans attacked my hometown, Resembool."

"That's the reason you give everyone," said Tyrell cautiously. "But that's not the real reason, is it?"

"Can't you tell? You're the one with the magical mind-reading powers." Edward wiggled his fingers in the air and waved around his food theatrically.

"No. I can't tell. That's why I'm so interested. I tried to read it when you were lying on the floor in the coach, but I couldn't. Your own mind was blocking it, not only from me but from yourself. You can't recall the time you lost your arm and leg without deliberately trying to, or when you see a strong reminder of then."

"That's it," Edward mumbled around his second helping of skewered sweets. "I don't like to talk about it. Or think about it. Or remember it."

"But would you tell me?" Tyrell asked, leaning back on the wall and watching Edward with curious violet eyes. "It's alright if you won't. I'll just drop it - the only way I find out is if you tell me. I can't read it off you, I can't search your head, not even hypnotising you would work. And if you don't want to tell me, I'll understand."

Edward lowered the food from his mouth, looking down. "Let's just say me and my brother did something we shouldn't have and this is how we paid for it. Can you accept that?"

"I'll accept anything," Tyrell said firmly. "And that was more than enough. You don't wanna talk about it, and I respect that. Lost limbs in the Ishbalan Rebellion it is."

Edward grinned, then took another bite of his sweet. "I like you. You're a good guy, y'know that? You should really try some of this stuff. It's good."

"It's called dango."

"Oh, okay. I've gone my whole life calling it 'those sweet thingies on the stick'."

"That sounds really wrong."

"Yeah. I only just realised."

The two started laughing.

Back on the other side of the hall, Roy's gaze had just lifted from the two teenagers and began to roam the hall.

"Hello there. Are you Colonel Mustang?" came a voice from his left.

Roy looked towards the source of the voice, mildly surprised. A young man stood there, his semblance to the Emperor indicating that it was highly likely this was his son. He wore a bright red kimono patterned with golden palm leaves and black hakama trousers, his haori black and gold.

"Yes, that's me. Colonel Roy Mustang, representing Amestris. At your service," Roy said, nodding politely.

"Good evening. I am Kenji Kambei, the Emperor's son."

Roy allowed himself to bask in the glory of his own skills of deduction. On the inside, of course.

"Good evening to you as well, sir," Roy returned.

"You Amestrians are a strange lot, do you know that?" Kenji said suddenly. "Every Amestrian soldier I've met calls me 'sir', whilst soldiers from Orato or Xing call me 'your majesty'."

"Would you prefer I called you that?"

"No, I don't mind. Personally, I'd prefer Kenji, but I get the feeling that you probably won't address me that way. I was just wondering why."

"Well, in Amestris, our equivalent of the Emperor is the Fuhrer, King Bradley. He's more or less the ruler of Amestris because he controls our state military, our army. All our soldiers address him as 'sir', so I suppose it just sticks. Most of us probably wouldn't see any reason to call you anything but 'sir'."

"I see," Kenji responded. "Well anyway, the reason I came over here is because my father would like to speak to you and your son."

"Alright. I'll fetch him and then head over. Thanks for letting me know," said Roy.

Kenji nodded and headed across the room, waving to various people and smiling.

Roy made his way over to the left side of the hall, to the table bearing the food, keeping an eye out for the familiar flash of blonde - no, black - hair.

He came across the boy he was looking for pretty fast, his gaze landing on Edward's red clothes and Tyrell's orange.

He approached the two boys, not surprised to find them both stuffing their faces with the exotic foods Kambei offered.

"Hey, Roy!" Edward exclaimed, waving. "You should try this stuff. It's good!"

"It's 'dad' now, remember?" Roy hissed at the boy as he drew near enough, accepting some kind of sticky sweet on a skewer. "And I don't really care much for sweets."

"Aw, c'mon," Tyrell said with a pout. "It's really yummy."

Roy sighed and took a bun off the end, almost cringing at the overpowering flavour. "Ed, how can you eat this? Yuck, too sweet."

Edward reached out and reclaimed the food, finishing the rest of it. "How can you not? It's delicious. You're just too much of a sourpuss, Colonel."

"Dad," Roy corrected again, glancing around the room.

"I told you, I'd rather dismantle my arm and leg then travel to Winry's and use the parts as confetti than call you that," Edward muttered. "I'm not saying it."

"You might have to," Roy informed the boy. "The Emperor wants to talk to us both."

"Huh? The head honcho dude?"

"Yes, although I wouldn't recommend you call him that to his face unless you want to end up having all your underpants set on fire."

"I feel so intimidated."

"Would you rather I burnt your research?"

"Let's go find his highness, the great Emperor of Kambei!"

"And if he mentions your height, I forbid you from reacting. If you blow up at him, you will suffer a slow and painful death involving Hughes and a large family photo album."

"What's there to mention about my height, bastard?"

"Shh. Pipe down. And remember; like a sophisticated officer's son."

The two Amestrians made their way through the crowd to a small gathering of people, all huddled about the Emperor and his son, Kenji.

The older man caught sight of the duo as the approached. "Ah, Colonel! Edward! I trust my son Kenji here got my message to you?"

"Yes, sir," Roy replied. "That he did."

Ryuumaru looked down at Edward, his brown eyes twinkling. "So this is young Edward! How are you, son?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Edward responded. "And yourself?"

"I'm doing well," Ryuumaru told him. "I'm getting a little old though - coming up on forty-eight years, now - but that's no odd thing!"

"Forty-eight?" Edward repeated. "No way. I wouldn't have put you a day over thirty-five!"

"Ahaha!" Ryuumaru grinned, his laugh loud and resounding. "Glad you think so, son!"

Edward shot Roy a glance, and the man nodded subtly. Good job, Ed. Keep it up.

Ryuumaru motioned with a thumb at the table off to the side. "Say, I was wondering if you two would like to join the rest of us at the table for some food?"

"We would be honoured," Roy answered, dipping his head. "Lead the way, sir."

Roy and Edward followed Ryuumaru, along with Kenji and the rest of the group he'd been standing with and talking to, over to the long table on the right side of the hall.

It was only as the drew closer that Roy realised the table barely rose from the ground, and that one would have to sit on the floor to be able to make use of it.

The group sat down on small cushions around the table, talking and laughing. Roy conversed with a few girls - which he was quite happy about - and tried to remember the names of all the people he was being introduced to.

Edward didn't really care much for remembering names of people he'd probably never see again, simply speaking when spoken to and acting as politely as he could. Sure, Roy was as annoying as hell and deserved to have vengeance served upon him for all the jerky stuff he'd done, but not even Edward would stoop so low as to embarrass him at such an important event.

Also, he didn't think Roy was kidding when he'd threatened to set his research alight.

Eventually, food was delivered to the table (partially the courtesy of a fetching young woman with whom Roy had no quarrels flirting) and the chatter and laughter continued.

Edward's face brightened as he caught sight of dango in the midst of the food, but quickly fell as Roy slapped his wrist when he reached for it.

"Eat a proper meal, Edward," the man had scolded. "Up 'til now, the only thing I've seen you eating is sweets."

Edward obeyed begrudgingly, scowling and selecting more savoury foods from the variety of items spread before them.

The Emperor nodded to Roy, smiling.

It was only then that Roy realised what he'd just done was an example of good parenting.

All was going swimmingly up 'til…

"Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all. Please, feel free to ask for whatever food you like from the waitresses."

Prince Claudio sat down cross-legged next to Roy, fixing the Colonel with a cold glare which was carefully disguised as a normal glance.

Edward, on Roy's other side, slid a hand across to his knee and poked him, muttering, "No gloves."

Roy nodded disgruntledly, murmuring back, "I wasn't planning on it."

"Good evening, Colonel Mustang," Claudio said nonchalantly, looking his way once again.

"Good evening, Prince Claudio," Roy returned just as evenly. "Having a good time?"

"Yes, quite enjoyable," Claudio said conversationally. "In fact, I was just talking to a young girl who had been conversing with your son here. Her name was Umeko, if I recall. She mentioned that metal arm of his."

Edward shot a look at the prince, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah. I was talking to her."

"She said you lost your arm and leg during a war in Amestris. That wouldn't happen to have been the Eastern Rebellion, would it?"

"Yeah." Edward busied himself with examining the woodwork of the table they were seated at. "That's where it happened."

"You were involved in that war, weren't you, Mustang?" Claudio asked, his tone implying an innocent question.

"I was," the Colonel answered. "On the front lines. Bad war. But it's over now."

"Yes. I've heard the stories," Claudio pressed. "But was it really as bad as they say? I've heard that there were even Amestrians who abandoned their posts, it was so horrific."

Roy looked down. "Yeah, it wasn't pretty. A man I know opted out because he was sick of killing innocent people. Children. We were all glad when it was over and we could move on."

"Ah, but the greatest question of a soldier is 'does the war ever really end?', isn't that right?" Claudio brushed his hair out of his eyes. "After killing so many people, can someone ever really go back to the way they were?"

Edward frowned. He could see in Roy's eyes that the man just wanted this conversation over as quickly as possible, which was understandable, considering his last brush with the painful memories he associated with Ishbal.

But Claudio had no intentions to let go of this opportunity.

"And I imagine it must be especially hard for someone like you, Colonel, being a state alchemist. I've heard they were some of the most efficient killers."

"I don't like to talk about it," Roy said softly. Edward noticed his hands shaking under the table. "So I'd appreciate it if you could refrain from mentioning it."

"I understand. But I'm really curious; how does it feel, knowing that you were responsible for wiping out a whole nation?"

"Please, don't bring that up," Roy muttered, frowning and moving his hands closer to his waist.

"And how do you feel when you remember it? If you wake up in the morning, for instance, and it just pops into your head?" Claudio would not be deterred. "Doesn't it give you nightmares?"

Roy twitched his hand away from his gloves and up to his head, where he ran his fingers through his slick, black hair. He turned his head quickly, closing his eyes. "Please, I don't want to talk about it."

Edward was glowering at Claudio now, as if willing him to shut up with some psychic force. If he doesn't put a sock in it soon…

"But I really want to know," Claudio said, his gaze no longer hiding the hatred. "How does it feel, when you remember how many people's lives you took? Can you remember their faces, Colonel? What their screams sounded like? What was it like, after you'd just killed them? Did you even care at the time?"

"What part of 'stop talking' don't you get?" Edward said slowly, glaring. "He obviously doesn't like this topic."

Claudio's eyebrow rose the most minute fraction. "I can see that, boy. I just don't care. I could go on and on about this, and tell you all about the people your father has murdered, and how much of a ruthless killer he really is. Isn't that right, Mustang? Mr 'Hero of Ishbal'?"

Roy's hand moved up to his chest and he started to rub the area above his heart in a rhythmic, circular motion, eyes shut tight.

Edward's eyes widened. No…

Despite Roy's obvious discomfort, Claudio continued. To Edward's absolute disgust, he was having fun watching Roy's pain.

"How many people did you murder, Colonel? Was it fun? Or do you want to take it all back? Even if you do, you can't. There is so much blood on your hands now, isn't there? You killed men, women and children. Little children, with their whole lives ahead of them. Are you—"

"Please, excuse me. I need some air," Roy muttered quietly, standing and making his way to the door at a brisk pace.

"Is he running away?" Claudio said with an incredulous smirk. "Is he really that—"

"Shut it!" Edward snapped, slamming his palms down on the table, unable to stay silent anymore. "Can't you see what you've done to him?! This is happening again! And it's all your stupid fault!"

Not caring that everyone at the table was now staring at him, Edward gave Claudio one last glare before jumping to his feet. He bowed stiffly to the Emperor and excused himself in a voice steeped with rage and anxiety. The boy turned and ran after Roy, his shoes clacking loudly on the tiled floor.

He pelted into the corridor, looking left and right. He hadn't been here before. He could see the escorts waiting a little way down to the right. Figuring Roy would want to avoid all contact with other people, Edward turned left.

He turned again, spotting the man standing in the bend of a corridor, his head in his hands as he paced back and forth.

"Roy!" Edward exclaimed, darting forward.

The man snapped his head in Edward's direction, barking, "Go away! I can handle this myself!"

Roy's face was red and beaded with sweat, just like it had been last time. His bare hands tensed and loosened at his side and his chest was heaving as he fought for breath.

Edward's brow creased and he took a step forward. "It's only me, Roy. It's Ed."

Roy, his breathing laboured, looked at the boy for a moment longer before walking towards the wall and leaning back on it, sliding down with a moan until he was sitting on the ground with his head between his knees. "Help."

Edward dashed forward at the sound of that one word, a word which hardly ever came from Roy's mouth. A word which shouldn't come from him. Couldn't. Not aimed towards Edward, in the least.

Standing before the man, he stopped.

Roy looked up with glassy eyes, his gaze locking with Edward's. He looked terrified; that same look Edward had seen on the coach that had scared him to the core himself.

"Please…" he panted. "Help me. 'M scared."

Edward watched him put his head back on his knees and then sat down on the floor in front of the man. The only thing he managed to say was, "It's okay. I'm here. I'll help you. You just have to breathe."

Roy didn't look up as Edward slid himself around to his superior's right side and pressed against him gently. "Slow down," Edward said, reaching forward and to the left to place his warm hand on Roy's knee. "There's nothing here that can hurt you. It's only us. Just have a couple of minutes to breathe."

Roy nodded faintly, taking a deep, shuddering breath. His hands clenched and unclenched next to Edward's, and the boy gently touched them. "Stop that. You're getting worked up again."

The younger alchemist gave his superior a couple of minutes to even out his breathing. Eventually, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Roy admitted quietly, his answer muffled by his knees. "I don't know. I just… I thought of something bad… It scared me…again. I don't know what's wrong with me. I was scared. I was scared. I thought I… I thought…"

Roy lifted his head again, looking dully at Edward. "I thought I was going to die again. I had another panic attack, didn't I?"

"I think so," Edward told him.

Roy leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. "What is wrong with me?" he growled. "Why is this happening?"

There was a rapid tapping noise as someone came sprinting down the corridor. Or rather, someone-s.

It was Tyrell, closely followed by Inuya and Usagi. The shaman was clutching his side, bent double.

"Came…fast…as could…! Couldn't…find…you…" He glanced up, his chest heaving. Looking at the two Amestrians sitting there, he gathered enough breath to say, "I guess you handled it, then."

Roy looked at the shaman, his eyes pleading. "It happened again. Why? What's wrong with me?"

Tyrell strode forward, kneeling down in front of the man. Placing a hand on his forehead, he said, "Inuya, Usagi, fetch me some cold water and a cloth. Quick!"

"Yes!" The two escorts ran from the corridor.

Tyrell moved his hand to Roy's chest, checking his heart rate. It must have been about normal as the shaman moved on to take Roy's hands and examine them.

"Nail marks," he commented. "From where you dug your fingers in."

Roy closed his eyes again, sighing heavily. "Why…? Why did it happen?"

"It may be that you've developed panic disorder," Tyrell murmured.

"No," said Roy firmly. "That's not it. That can't be it, okay? I have things to do and people relying on me. That just can't happen. I can't be so useless. I can't afford to depend on others."

Edward, still pressed against Roy's side and clasping his hand, nodded. "That's right. It's gotta be just a one off thing, y'know? Because of everything that's happened… Old Ishbal… The Emperor… The pressure must have gotten to you."

Edward felt Roy start to tremble against his side.

The three were silent now, Tyrell looking at Roy, who was looking at the floor with a distraught expression, and Edward looking away down the corridor.

"Tyrell!" A shout echoed down to them. It was Inuya, running closer with a bowl of water in his hands. Usagi trotted along behind him with a worried expression on her face, clutching a little cloth to her chest.

"Thank you," Tyrell murmured, accepting the bowl from the escort. Usagi, blushing, handed him the cloth and he plunged it into the water.

Edward reached across and placed his metal palm on Roy's forehead, saying, "There. Cold metal while you wait."

Tyrell wrung out the cloth, nudging Edward's hand aside. The boy let out a noise of defiance, but lowered his right arm nonetheless.

Roy set his chin down on his knees, sitting back and letting Tyrell dab the cool, damp cloth on his hot forehead.

"I'm sorry."

Everyone looked at Roy, who muttered again, "I'm sorry."

"'Sorry'?" Edward echoed. "What do you mean, 'sorry'?"

"Sorry for dragging you into this. All of you," Roy muttered, still watching the opposite wall.

"Into what?" Inuya asked, a frown twisting his features.

"My stupid problems," Roy grumbled, taking the cloth from Tyrell and covering his eyes with it. "I'm pathetic. Sitting here whilst the four of you sort me out. Two kids and a couple of young foreigners I barely know. It's not that I don't appreciate your help, but…"

Roy's eyes twitched up to meet the group's, and he let out another sigh. "I shouldn't have to need it."

"'Shouldn't have to'…?" Inuya trailed off, watching from his kneeling position as Roy rose to his feet, handing him the cloth.

"It's a long and complicated thing," Roy told him bluntly, stepping into the centre of the hallway and giving his wrists a quick shake. "I'm going back to my room. Tell the Emperor I send my apologies for retiring early."

"Will do," Inuya replied distractedly, watching Roy make his way down the corridor.

"Are you sure you don't want any help?" Tyrell asked, his expression concerned.

"I'm fine," Roy answered. "You just go back and have fun with those sweets."

"But—"

"I'll be fine," Roy repeated stubbornly, his face unreadable.

"Tell the Emperor I'm going with Muhy…y father," Edward added to Inuya, standing and following. "If that's not any trouble."

"Not at all," Inuya responded, still a little dazed. "Go ahead."

Tyrell gave Edward a subtle nod, flashing him a relieved smile.

Edward then sped up his pace a little and caught up to Roy, watching the man's face curiously.

"You don't have to come," Roy told him. "You don't need to."

"My hand was on your wrist, Mustang," Edward said slowly.

"Your point being?"

"Tyrell isn't the only one who knows how fast your heart is still beating."

So, we see Ed being protective of Roy here. Geez, I think I've invented a new genre. By once again backflipping the stereotypes, I give you…Parental!EdRoy! Ha, no.

No.

But my view of Parental!RoyEd is that they would both look after each other (because they're both idiots) instead of the usual Roy taking care of a poor little Ed (for proof, I flipped Sick!Ed/Parental!Roy on it's head)…although I can't say that's not cute.

ZAKURO AWAY! *rainbows off to catch an Eevee*

(P. S., If you guys like my stuff and have nothing better to do, PLEASE read and review my story 'Pack Animals'. I'm pretty bummed by the lack of reviews it got, because I thought it was pretty darn awesome. Although, if you've already read 'All is One', don't bother because that's where I took it out of. It was so long I gave it it's own story.)

ZAKURO DEFINITELY AWAY NOW!

Trololololololololololol.

YUP, REALLY GONE AT THIS POINT. BYE. NOT MY PROBLEM. WALKING—er, FLYING AWAY. SEEYA.