Greetings! I'm back again! This beginning note is short 'cause the end is long.

Reference: Percy (Persassius) Jackson and the Lightning Thief! Great work a bazillion people got it! Gold star to Sparky!

(Also, I sincerely apologise for last chapter when I said that Ed was dumb... I should have specified that I use the term affectionately. I couldn't kill Ed off because I like him too much, not 'cause he's stupid. He's not stupid. Just...slightly oblivious. *sweatdrop*)

Here:

"Do you wanna build a snowman?"

Of Blurs and Black Marks

Edward frowned worriedly.

It was the evening after a meeting, and the Emperor had invited all the representatives down to the town for a drink. Which left Roy and Claudio and alcohol all in the one room. What was worse than that, both Edward and Tyrell were underage, so neither of them were allowed to tag along to keep an eye on the events.

The young alchemist sighed tensely.

So much could go wrong.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," came Tyrell's voice from the sofa on the opposite side of the room (Edward's sofa, the alchemist reminded himself). He gave his friend a reassuring glance. "I don't think Claudio will have the opportunity to mess with Roy tonight."

Edward shifted uncomfortably into the sofa he laid on (Roy's sofa, he thought). "Yeah, but still. You can't blame me for worrying. That idiot can't even cook himself dinner. I don't know that he'll be able to handle another…y'know."

"Ah." Tyrell smiled a little. "But that's where you're underestimating him. He's tougher than you think."

"I know he's tough," Edward defended himself. "I really do. With everything he's done, he has to be. But still…"

The Fullmetal Alchemist folded his arms over his chest, searching the ceiling with anxious golden eyes. "I'm worried."

"Understandable," commented Tyrell. "You obviously care about him."

"N-not really!" Edward exclaimed defensively. "Well, yeah, he is my commanding officer, so I'm supposed to have some degree of camaraderie towards him…"

Tyrell laughed. "You're so easy to read! You really feel he's like family to you, don't you? Like a dad, I think?"

Edward's face took on a distinctively red hue. "No. Definitely not."

"That's okay!" Tyrell encouraged. "It's nice that you've got someone like that."

"No." Edward shook his head. "Roy's nothing like a dad."

"But how would you know? You've never really had one before."

"You have to stop doing that!" Edward grumbled. "It's kinda unnerving when you suddenly know everything about me."

"Sorry, I can't help it," said Tyrell. "If you feel really strongly about a current thought, it gets projected straight to me. I read the air without even trying."

"Whatever the case, I certainly don't think about Roy like my dad," Edward grumped. "That's just…"

"Natural?" Tyrell suggested.

Edward didn't reply, making Tyrell aware that he should back off a little. He changed the subject, and the conversation continued.

It gradually died down into contemplative silence.

"I'm going to head back to my room," Tyrell said eventually. "I want to do a little revision on my medics. I think I'm getting rusty. See you later?"

"Sure."

As he walked past, he gave Edward a tap on the arm, just above his flesh elbow. "Don't worry. Roy'll be fine."

Seconds after he'd left, Edward felt a sharp sting in his arm, right in the spot Tyrell had tapped. Rubbing it tenderly, he rolled up his sleeve and examined it.

A tiny black mark, almost too small to be visible, marked the mildly throbbing area. He'd never noticed it before. His brow creased as he ran his fingers over it gently only to see that it didn't fade.

Edward thought it looked like a little teardrop.

INSERT LINE BREAK!

Edward found himself in the middle of a field.

It was huge and grassy and a few fluffy clouds scattered the sky. Flowers grew every few feet apart and they swayed in synchronisation with the grass, like some mesmerising dance of wind.

But the sky was grey and the clouds were grey and the grass was grey and the flowers were blood red.

Edward was confused.

He didn't understand this place.

He knelt down on one knee to touch a hand to a flower, his expression one of cautious puzzlement. He brushed against one of the vivid red petals curiously and recoiled immediately.

From the point of contact, droplets of crimson blood had poured onto his skin, staining his fingers red. He flicked his arm repeatedly, splattering red across the grass. This added to the liquid that continued to pour from the flower, creating a bright, terrible stream in the colourless grass.

What remained of the blood he tried to rub away with his auto-mail hand, but only succeeded in smearing it into both arms. He gave up, dropping his bloodied appendages at his sides and looking around hopelessly. He didn't like it here.

He was cold.

As the air at the boy's back started to shift from stagnant breeze to freezing blast, he felt a chill run down his spine. From there it escalated, becoming a tremour that took up his whole body and then an uncontrollable shiver that made his fingers twitch and jerk as if they had minds of their own.

A cold hand touched his shoulder and he let out a cry, whipping around to try and catch a glimpse of whoever had grasped him.

There was no-one there.

The same cold fingers brushed against his ear and he quickly turned to his left, his gaze darting feverishly.

Tap, on the back.

He spun around.

Brush, on the chin.

He glanced down, terrified.

Pat, on the neck.

He jumped sideways.

Stroke, on the wrist.

He started running.

Picking up his speed, he started to panic as he realised the contact the invisible hands made with his skin didn't stop as he sprinted. They continued to harrass him, only spurring him onwards and making his heart beat faster.

Every time he brushed against a flower, it began to gush blood everywhere, spraying it across the ground and over his trousers and bare feet.

He ran for ages, as far as those feet would carry him. He put his head down and bolted, his body working on pure fear. He couldn't stop, he couldn't stop, he wouldn't stop, it was too scary.

I'm scared! Help! Mom! Al! Help me! It hurts! Mom!

He didn't want to go back. He didn't want to see it again, he didn't want to have to go through that a second time. He didn't want to be reminded, he didn't want to re-experience that same fear that had consumed him ever.

He started to pant and his chest heaved as he forced himself to keep running, from what, he didn't even know. All he knew was that he had to keep running.

Gradually, the bleeding flowers had given up so much blood that he had to drag his feet through it, the thick red liquid slowing him down and making it impossible to move freely.

But he had to keep going.

He cried out, terror building in his chest as the blood reached his waist and he had to pull himself through it, hands grabbing at him and pulling him and tugging at his hair and hanging off his arms.

But it was still rising, reaching his shoulders and splashing across his chin. He let out a strangled sob as he tasted the metallic tang in his mouth and kept struggling on through the swamping liquid.

Edward could hear them now. Voices, calling out to him as their cold hands reached for his skin. They cried his name and pleaded with him, begging him to help them, to save himself, to leave them alone, to become one of them, to keep running, to slow down, to kill them or to die himself.

He gasped a last breath as the blood reached his mouth and seconds later, his nose, blocking the air. He struggled towards the surface, but the weight of his auto-mail and the combined strength of the wispy hands drew him down into the murky depths, where he screwed his eyes shut and floundered helplessly.

He soon realised it was hopeelss and opened his eyes. There was nothing to see and he eventually gave in, letting out the breath he'd been holding and feeling his airways fill with blood. He was drowning, drowning in the flood of red, and he couldn't escape from his fear.

He closed his eyes.

He opened his eyes.

Edward stood alone, facing the centre of a large transmutation circle that spanned the whole basement floor. The smell of blood was still thick in the air, and it mingled with the scent of old books and dust.

He was so accustomed to it.

Half the room was cast into shadow, but he already knew what lurked within and so it made no difference. It still didn't stop him from being so scared of it.

"Why do you keep running, Edward?" asked that familiar voice in that familiar rasp, sending a zap of fear into the boy's chest.

He didn't answer.

"Why do you keep running from it all? Do you think that will make it go away?"

Edward gulped, feeling cold sweat build on his forehead and trickle down his back. He tried to spot the creature in the darkness, despite knowing he'd never see it.

Yet.

"Oh, you are so weak," it continued. "A scared little boy, running from the mistakes buried in his yard. He thinks burning it will make it all go away, and he thinks that if he never goes home he'll never have to face it again."

Edward let out another choking sob and tried to move away, but he was locked to the floor, as per normal.

"Poor little Edward, he thinks if he never looks back, he'll never feel scared, he'll never have to deal with it. Poor little Edward, he's nearly erased it all from his memory; he can't even remember parts of it. Poor little Edward, thinks forgetting about it will solve everything. That's why he runs. Because he's scared, and he can't face what he's done."

Edward trembled wildly as the voice asked, "Isn't that right, Ed? You're running away from what makes you scared."

The teen glanced downwards, another wave of nostalgic panic consuming him as he saw Alphonse's shirt and shorts still spread on the floor.

"And the blood, Edward, oh, so much blood," it went on. "Trying to run from it all, but you keep messing up, everything going wrong and twisted and people dying and it, is. All. Your. Fault. So much blood, Ed, and it's all for you."

Edward whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut once more to try and rid himself of it all. He'd had enough. He wanted out.

"Your accidents."

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Aw, you're doing it again," the monster crooned. "Trying to escape. Trying to evade. Trying to pretend it didn't happen. Such a pathetic little boy, so weak and frightened. So guilty."

"Stop it…" Edward mumbled, his voice shaky. "Stop it…!"

"Am I scaring you, Ed?" the voice hissed. "Are you going to run again? Run away from me like you run from Resembool and your past and yourself?"

"Stop it!"

"Run away from me?"

"Stop it!" Edward screeched, slamming his hands over his ears and falling to his knees. It didn't help, he could still hear it's voice in his head. "Please, please, stop!"

"Alright then, little Ed. Keep running. Keep running and running, but remember. Remember that I am here. That I'm always here. Because Ed…"

Edward looked up, his haunted golden eyes empty and full of dread.

They fell on the deformed body of it, and he shuddered violently, clenching his fists around his ears. He tried to close his eyes but he couldn't and they remained fixed on the horrific monstrosity, forcing him to relive the most painful experience of his life.

"You can't escape from something that's inside you."

INSERT LINE BREAK!

Edward awoke with a jolt.

He sat up and tried to stand, but immediately fell back onto the floor on his hands and knees. His legs were shaking too hard to support him.

The room was in utter silence, all apart from the rapid clank of his auto-mail's joints and plates hitting against each other as he remained trembling on the floor.

Quiet sounds of terror slowly joined the clanking from somewhere, and Edward realised it was himself as he whimpered and tried his hardest to even out his breathing. He attempted to rise to his feet once more, but his arms gave in and he ended up sprawled on his chest.

His flesh arm stung just above the elbow.

Rolling onto his side, he curled up into a ball and closed his eyes, trying to erase the images from his head. But with his eyes shut, it was all he could see and his breathing sped up.

Hands shivering, he opened his eyes and tried to stand one more time. This time he succeeded, and with his heart racing, he staggered over to a wall to try and catch his breath.

He looked out the window. The sky was a fiery scarlet, a colour that made him feel sick at the present time. He obviously hadn't been asleep for long, and the lack of jackets and/or ties thrown across the back of the sofa indicated that Roy had not yet come back from the town.

The teen let out a quiet moan, using his sleeve to wipe off the large amount of sweat that still clung to his forehead. Despite himself, he wanted the man to be back. He didn't want to be here alone.

He was scared.

Making his way down to the bathroom, he splashed some water over his face lightly. He glanced into the mirror hanging above the sink and nearly winced at what he saw. His eyes still boasted that typical look of fear; the edges were red and his pupils were contracted.

For some reason, that dream had scared him even more than the average nightmare. This wasn't normal - usually, he would recover from this kind of thing in a couple of minutes, but it had been at least a quarter of an hour and he was still shaking uncontrollably.

Thirsty.

Glancing around at the shower door, he quickly decided he was in no condition to transmute. He briefly wondered where the glass he'd made for Roy had disappeared to, but dismissed the thought. He made his way down the short hallway, trying to rub some warmth back into his shoulders and stumbling a couple of times.

The boy gave the string outside the door a tug and waited, fiddling with a bolt in his wrist while he did so. He leaned against the doorframe and eventually his strength began to fade once more. He slid down until he was sitting in the doorway with his forehead on his hands and his hands on his knees. It still haunted his mind.

"Sir?"

Edward jumped and let out a sharp exclamation of surprise. Nervously, he shot a glance up and calmed down a little when he realised it was just the maid he'd called for. She was the same maid who always attended to the pair's room. A girl named Kaede, Edward recalled dimly.

"Sir, are you alright?" she asked, sounding concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"N-nah…" Edward shook his head. "I just…uhh… Could you just grab me some water, thanks?"

"Right away. Are you sure you don't require a nurse?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I'm fine. Fine…"

Kaede nodded hesitantly, then hurried off. The young alchemist curled back into himself, shuddering as the visions reappeared. "Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it… Get out of me!"

When he heard the sound of the maid's footsteps hurrying back towards him, there were two sets.

"I told you, I don't need a…" Edward started, looking up. His somewhat blurry eyes widened in surprise when he saw Tyrell alongside Kaede.

"Edward! Are you okay?" The Oratoan prince skidded to his knees before his friend, violet gaze frantic. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Edward responded, shaking his head. Maybe that would rid him of the images still trapped there. "I'm just thirsty."

"Just thirsty, my royal arse!" Tyrell snapped, slipping his hand under Edward's fringe and onto forehead to feel his temperature. "You're shaking like a leaf!"

The shivering boy was handed the water from the maid and he drank it in small sips, glazed eyes fixed on Tyrell's hands as they worked their healing magic.

Gradually, he felt himself begin to calm down. What had he been so frightened of anyway? It was just another stupid dream. He barely even remembered it now. Way to get worked up over nothing, he thought to himself. You're getting almost as bad as Roy.

A numb sleepiness began to take over his limbs. Everything was a blur now. The corridor was a marble blur, the water in his hand was an invisible blur, Tyrell was a healing blur with white hair and warm hands.

But where… Where was the important blur? The one who gave him comfort? The one whom he really hated but liked at the same time? Edward knew he liked that blur. That one was supposed to be here now, but he wasn't. Why? Where was he? Where was the warm, soft man with the strong voice and the firm hands?

Where was Roy?

Where also was the other blur, the one who should have done for him what he was doing now? The quiet blur, the stoic one, the blur who cared for and protected and followed and reassured? Where was she, the woman who had managed to fan the flame and keep hope burning?

Where was Riza?

And where was his most precious blur, his beloved blur, the metal one with the voice. The familiar voice that had lulled him to calmness so often was no where to be found. Where was his blur, his blur that he loved so dearly and fought so hard for? Where was the sweet, gentle boy who he loved with all his heart?

Where was Alphonse?

Edward gave a soft mumble and looked at the healing blur, his face worried and confused. Pleading. He reached up with one hand to touch Tyrell's fingers and the shaman jumped.

"Yeah, Ed? What? If it's that you feel you're going to pass out, don't worry. I induced that so—"

"Where's my family?" Edward mumbled half to himself, but aiming the question at Tyrell.

Kaede, her sleeve rubbing her chin anxiously, looked confusedly down at the shaman. "What does he mean?"

Tyrell looked puzzled, then sad. "I don't know where they are Ed," he said, laying a comforting hand on his drowsy friend's shoulder. "But I'm sure they'll come back for you."

Edward showed no sign that he'd understood, his golden eyes finally going dull and flicking closed. His legs went slack and his head lolled to the left slightly, a child's soft features framed by a mess of black hair.

"C'mon." Tyrell turned to Kaede. "Let's get him into his room."

Together, the pair hoisted the slumbering Amestrian to his feet, his arms over their shoulders. Despite his metal limbs, Tyrell found the boy to be quite light. They carried him to the main room, where Tyrell directed Kaede to the sofa.

"Leave him here," the shaman said quietly. "He likes to sleep on the one that smells like Roy."

Alright, so it was short and relatively sort of important. Because it's not unimportant but it's not the most important plot point in the history of the universe. Therefore, relatively sort of important! And prepare for a long note, because I have A THING.

Now. Readers.

I have A THING.

I may have been calling Ed a girl this whole time.

I have recently realised that I have no idea how to spell 'blonde/blond'. I had always assumed that 'blond' was simply an Americanism, but now I have acquired new information. Because French, the 'e' on the end appears to make it a feminine description. I was not aware of this. So, Ed is not in fact a blonde but a blond! LE GASP! THEREFORE I HAVE BEEN CALLING HIM A GIRL!

Did anyone notice this? And if you did, why didn't you tell me? (I'm embarrassed now.) How do you spell 'blonde/blond'?

And today, the sky pulled a Britain on our school. Seriously. The sky just cracked open and the ocean fell on our heads. Being in the driest state on the driest (civilised, I'm excluding Antarctica) continent on the world, you can imagine this doesn't happen often. So our electricity wasn't prepared for leaks and we all got evacuated to the tennis courts, where we stood in the rain and got soaked. (Clever teachers.)

I was a little happy because I haven't seen rain so heavy in a long time (having been born spent about half my life a place that rains a lot, N. Ireland) and was looking forwards to walking home in it tucked under an umbrella. (You might live somewhere where it rains a lot and think, 'There's nothing exciting about walking home in the rain!', but imagine if it didn't heavily rain that much and you've been away from it forever.) Yeah! But my friend (looneyluna901) who has lived her whole life in Australia didn't want to walk home in it so she called for a lift and I was very disappointed.

Sigh.

Oh well! Maybe it'll rain again another day! REVIEW RESPONSES:

Victorious-Mind: OH! HOW COOL! I've always wanted to go to Turkey! But I just really want to travel to exotic European countries, I guess. *sweatdrop*

A Small Voice: Yes, Tyrell does know that Roy and Ed aren't related, but he hasn't told Claudio. Sneaky little potato. (I said potato because I didn't want to swear...)

Do a Barrel Roll: My iPod comes back to life today...at the price of seventy dollars...

MysteriousEyez: That will come into play, yes. Edward and Roy are not cowards.

Yorokobi Asahi: Late Happy Birthday! Now, it took Ed and Roy a total of two days to get to Kambei, but with Hawkeye's driving skills and a few bribes to the carriage drivers, they can make it in one. Team Mustang hopes.

: It'll be explained a little later why they didn't just call Roy and Ed.

As usual, your reviews are loved, appreciated and taken into careful consideration! Please leave me some!

ZAKURO AWAAAAAY! *flies away on the umbrella which I would have used*

ADVERTISEMENT BROUGHT TO YOU BY ZAKURO'S LOYALTY TO HER FRIENDS!

Bored again? Have nothing better to do again? Watch Hetalia? Go check out the Hetalia story I partially wrote in a partnership with loonyluna901!

'What Happens At The Bar Stays At England's House'! Loony wrote the dialogue and I wrote everything else. It's posted under her name.