Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Roy heard Sally shouting orders, telling people to fetch blankets and bandages. One of the girls was already on her way to get the doctor who lived nearby, and her clattering footsteps echoed across the square as she raced away.

Ed's pulse was steady, and his chest rose and fell with every breath. No rasping cough caught in his throat, and Roy felt fierce, bright joy cocoon his heart as he searched Ed's face. He was alive, and relief was like a heady drug in Roy's veins, soothing away his pain and fear.

'Brigadier-General?'

Sally knelt at Al's side, the silk of her skirt ruined by the wet cobbles and her hair tumbling loose from its pins. Her face was calm and firm, and her intelligent eyes were focussed intently on him as she spoke. 'The doctor is on his way. He shouldn't be more than a few minutes, and then he can take a look at Edward and treat your men.'

'What about your people?' he asked, tiredness turning his voice leaden. 'Was anyone hurt?'

'A couple of burns, nothing more. If Ed hadn't protected the building...' For the first time that day, Sally's expression lost some of its fierceness and, shakily, she reached out to brush a strand of Ed's hair back from his face. It was a tender, motherly touch, and her voice was nothing more than a whisper as she said, 'We owe him our lives.'

When she looked up again her face was utterly serious, and she spoke in steady, measured tones. 'I will not pretend I understand even half of what I saw, but people are going to ask questions.' She let her gaze drift around the square, taking in the damage. 'I'm going to need to know what you would like me to say. The truth -' Her eyes flickered back to Ed, lingering on the quiet lines of the array on his forehead. '-The truth, whatever it may be, is something I doubt you would like the military to know.'

Roy stared at her as he locked his fingers around Ed's wrist, never losing touch with the steady throb of his pulse. His mind felt thick and slow, filled with the edgy mix of heartfelt relief and creeping concern. He did not want to think about this now. He wanted to know that Ed was going to be all right before he had to face his duties again, but this could not wait. Sally was right; sooner, rather than later, people would be asking what had happened and demanding answers.

Carefully, he thought it through, trying to edit his memories into a believable narrative for all that had occurred. 'A dangerous alchemist, a dissident, was trying to destroy the city and harm its people. We stopped her before she could succeed. If they ask about the array, she created it, and it was never activated.' He paused, trying to anticipate what questions might be asked.

'Any lights or signs of transmutation that people may have seen were caused by my command fighting her followers. If anyone asks to know more, send them to me,' Roy said quietly, brushing his thumb back and forth over Ed's skin. 'That goes for all of you. With any luck the military will have too many problems of their own to deal with, and they won't take too much of an interest. Still, it doesn't hurt to be careful.'

'I don't understand,' Russell said quietly. 'Why can't we just tell them what happened? Are you saying that Ed did all that, built that thing, and no one can know? Doesn't he deserve some kind of recognition?'

'He wouldn't want it,' Al said quietly. 'Brother doesn't care what people think.'

'Besides, if the military knew that Ed had something to do with all this, then they would want to know more. At best he would be locked away in one of the labs as they tried to work out what made him so powerful. At worst?' Roy's jaw clenched at the thought, and his voice fell to a low, deadly hiss. 'The army will do whatever it takes to give themselves an advantage, especially under the current Fuhrer. They'll try and find a way to put Ed to good use, and it won't matter if he wants to cooperate or not. They won't take no for an answer. It's better that they never know what happened. At least that way Ed stays safe.'

Russell scowled, his bright eyes boring into Roy accusingly as if he thought that they were trying to rob Ed of his glory. He parted his lips to argue, but a quavering voice interrupted his words, cutting him off.

'Excuse me. Coming through.' A gnarled hand tapped Roy gently on the shoulder, nudging him aside as a snowy-haired man with spectacles crouched unceremoniously on the floor at Ed's side. 'Someone called for a doctor, and I can't do my job if you're in the way, sonny.'

Unwillingly, Roy placed Ed's hand carefully back on the ground, feeling hollow and bereft as he was forced to step back and let the elderly man check Ed over with competent fingertips. The doctor muttered to himself as he worked, bushy eyebrows pinched into a frown as he pulled one of Ed's eyelids back, peering into the unfocussed gold depths before nodding absently. He pressed a stethoscope to Ed's chest, listening intently with his head to one side.

A tense expression pinched his lined face, deepening the wrinkles on his forehead before he sat back on his heels with a sigh. 'Get him to hospital,' he said without preamble. 'There are no broken bones and there does not seem to be any head trauma. He can be moved, and I suggest you waste no time about it. The young lady,' He gestured to Min. 'said that he had stopped breathing. Lack of oxygen, even for a short time, can have devastating effects.'

He unhooked the stethoscope from around his neck and tapped it against his palm as he looked at Ed thoughtfully. 'He has a strong pulse. His breathing is clear and basic reflexes are still present, but in a situation like this that can change in less than a minute.'

'Will he be all right when he wakes up?' Al asked, voicing the breathless question that had tangled itself in Roy's throat.

The doctor looked at him over the top of his glasses, and his dark eyes took on a hint of sympathy. 'If he wakes up, then any damage will be immediately apparent. The staff in the hospital will be able to tell you more than I can.'

Icy air clenched in Roy's lungs, running cold fingers through his flesh. He stared at the doctor as if he was speaking an alien language, barely noticing when Sally got to her feet and hurried for the car. The boy, Danny returned with blankets and bandages, and the elderly physician removed Roy's jacket, handing it back before hastily wrapping Ed in warm swathes of wool. When he was satisfied that every bit of bare skin other than Ed's face was covered, he turned his attention to the rest of them and set about treating their injuries.

Roy stood perfectly still, his jacket hanging from his limp fingers as he stared. It took all of his reserve not to snatch at the old man's collar and insist he did something more. Rational thought was painfully elusive, but he forced himself to be sensible. Ed had no obvious injuries to treat; there was literally nothing else that the doctor could do. He did not have the equipment to help Ed further, and any reassurance he offered would be nothing more than a lie.

To Roy, it felt as if he were watching a play unfold on a stage. He was a member of the audience, captivated and afraid by what he saw, but unable to change the course of events. If he had his way, then Ed would open his eyes and smile. Ed would get up, take his hand and make the world a bearable place. Instead he was faced with the bitter, painful truth: Ed might never regain conciousness. He might have been given the gift of life, but there was no guarantee that he would be given the chance to live.

A tremor racked through Roy's body, and he clenched his jaw as he tried to hold himself still. For a few, precious seconds he had thought that the worst was over. After the rush and scream of battle – after deep grief and sharp, blissful joy – he had allowed himself to believe that the world would slowly return to something like normalcy.

Now, he realised, it was possible that the hardest fight was still ahead of them. Even if Ed awoke, there was no way to tell if he would still be the same young man who had activated the array less than an hour ago. The disease that had ravaged his lungs could return, or the new gate could have taken more than Ed had left to give. Until he opened his eyes there was no way to tell, and everyone who cared for him was stuck in a grim waiting game.

'Doctors aren't always right.' Al said, meeting Roy's gaze without flinching. His voice was brittle but firm, as if he were laying down the law. Where other people said that Ed had found his limits, Al denied the possibility. In his eyes there was nothing his brother could not survive or achieve. The two of them had fought so hard to right their sins, and now it was impossible for him to accept that his brother may have finally succumbed.

'Ed'll prove 'em wrong. He always does.' Havoc said, his voice rough and his expression haunted by doubt as he patted Al awkwardly on the back before looking up at Roy, tense and desperate. 'Right?'

Roy was spared having to respond by Hawkeye lightly touching his injured shoulder, drawing his attention to the wound with a sharp stab of pain. 'You need to get that seen to, sir.'

Her voice was gentle but firm, and Roy realised that she had been standing at his side all along. Her gun was holstered on her hip, and her empty hands twisted together absently. A trickle of reddish brown wound down her neck from an open wound on her jaw, disappearing under her uniform collar. Her right cheekbone bore a stormy black bruise, and her hair was falling from its clip, damp and stringy.

'Later.' His voice was a cracked phantom of its former self, but he did not bother making excuses. For once he could not find the strength to pull his mask back into place. For a little while longer he was among people he could trust. They could observe his real emotions without comment or criticism; in front of them he was allowed to be human. Soon he would be forced back into the role of cool command. When that time came he would present the image that his rank demanded, not before.

Hawkeye drew in a breath as if to question him, but she seemed to think better of it. Instead she asked, 'Sir, what are our orders?' A small smile tilted her lips when he looked at her in confusion 'We won't all fit in the car, and you and Alphonse should accompany Edward. I am sure he would want you there when he wakes up.' Her stance was professional and capable, but the darkness of her eyes was lit with warm compassion and shadowed by concern of what the next few hours might hold. 'What would you like me to do?'

He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the nibble of snowflakes melting against his skin as he tried to think. 'First, make sure everyone gets their wounds treated. Hospitalise anyone that needs it and get the rest of them back to the office.' He grimaced, blinking against the sting of exhaustion that burned his eyes. 'I know everyone's tired, but I need you all there.'

'Can I suggest that you take Edward to the military infirmary, sir? Admitting him to a civilian hospital will mean difficult questions from medical staff about how he lost conciousness,' she pointed out. 'Doctor Collins is at least aware of Ed's past health issues, and he will probably offer assistance without asking for information that we would rather not share.'

'Thank you, Lieutenant.' Roy managed a weak smile for her benefit, wordlessly grateful for Riza's sensible attention to detail. Doctor Collins was the man who had originally told them of the damage to Ed's lungs, and Roy had a vague memory of a haggard, busy looking man in his sxties. He might be military personnel, but that gave him an insight into the workings of the army that eluded most doctors. He would probably honour a request for silence from a Brigadier-General, even if it meant keeping things back from the Fuhrer.

The low, rumbling purr of a car engine echoed in the square, and Roy stood back as a sleek, black vehicle pulled to a stop. Sally got out from the driver's seat and threw the keys to Havoc, who caught them neatly. 'Can you drive?'

Jean looked down at his injured arm before giving a firm nod. 'No problem. I'll get it back to you without a scratch.'

Sally smiled before she fixed Roy with a penetrating look. 'Please keep me informed.' Her request was firm but gentle, and she held open the back door as Alex carefully crouched and lifted Ed into his arms, cradling him against his chest like a child. 'Tell Edward to visit when he wakes up. We need to thank him.'

'I will,' Roy promised, climbing in and settling on the back seat as Al hurried around the other side. Armstrong gently laid Ed down so that his head was pillowed on Roy's knees before moving to the front of the car and squeezing into the passenger seat. He almost questioned the major's presence before he realised that it was sensible to have Alex with them. He could lift Ed with ease and carry him without effort from the car to the hospital ward. Besides, he suspected that if he told Armstrong to stay behind the massive man would burst into tears.

Looking down at Ed, Roy gently brushed strands of blonde hair back from his forehead. He did not even stir; his face remained impassive and smooth, untroubled by pain and untouched by emotion. Quickly he found the beat of Ed's pulse again, his fingers gravitating to the throbbing vein as if they belonged there. It was still steady and strong, but the space between every beat seemed to last an eternity, and Roy clenched his teeth impatiently as Havoc set off carefully over the icy roads.

The car crept along, and more than once the tires spun on the slick snow as Jean's knuckles tightened to white on the steering wheel. Houses lined the street, their lights glowing through the windows as Central's citizens peered through the gaps in their curtains as if they were afraid to set foot outside. Tree-edged boulevards were a wreckage of leaves and wood. More than once, Jean had to weave the car between massive branches that had been torn off and hurled around by the gale.

Finally, the river came into view, and Havoc whistled in disbelief. High, fast water raced between the snow-dappled banks, slamming into the arches of the bridge. The massive stone structure still stood, but there were police cars lining its edge, and officers watched the steadily rising waters with trepidation.

From here, it was possible to see the devastation the city had suffered. Holes in the skyline were stark epitaphs to fallen buildings, and Roy automatically looked for the command compound. It still stood, but it was shrouded by a haze of dust. Palls of smoke filled the sky, twisting in wind-ravaged columns as fire-fighters tried to put out the flames from the lightning strikes. Armstrong let out a heavy, sad sigh, pointing to one of the poorer districts of town where the streets ran six feet deep with water.

'Clean-up's going to be hell,' Havoc said quietly, nodding as a policeman waved them through. 'There still aren't any soldiers out on the streets. I thought someone was going to try and overturn Hakuro's orders?'

'That kind of thing takes time,' Armstrong replied, his blue eyes sharp, 'but I don't doubt that questions are already being asked about the Fuhrer's ability to handle matters in a crisis. If enough generals raise the issue then he may not be in command for much longer. He does not have enough supporters to resist should they decide that he is not the man for the job.'

'Too little, too late,' Roy replied, staring bleakly across the cityscape. 'How many do you think have died because of Hakuro's orders? People already hated the military. Now it's going to be a hundred times worse.'

'We cannot undo what has already been done,' Alex said, 'but we can move forward and repair the damage that has befallen our great city. In that we will not fail.'

Roy shifted in his seat, knowing that the major was right. When disaster struck there were always voices of blame but, in the end, what mattered was picking up the pieces. Even if he was only a low-ranking general, he would still be expected to take a serious role in organising the recovery, and the thought made him want to weep with hopeless exhaustion. Sleep seemed like such a distant memory, and his body throbbed with pain and the simple, desperate need to have Ed awake and well in his arms.

It would not be long before he was given orders and, no matter how fiercely he felt that Ed should come first, disobedience was not an option. As far as the military were concerned Ed was Roy's subordinate, nothing more, and there was no reason for him to linger at a major's bedside.

The army could never know that the outcome of his future, bright or bleak, hinged on Ed's survival, and he could never give anyone reason to suspect that there was more between them than a professional relationship. He could not sacrifice their potential future together in order to calm his fears. He had trusted Ed this far, and now he would have to find the faith to believe that he would recover without Roy at his side.

Slowly, the gate to the military compound came into view, and Roy tightened his grip on Ed's hand, drawing in strength from the warm palm in his own as he stared in shock at the devastation beyond the windscreen. Soldiers scurried around a huge pile of rubble like ants, bearing injured comrades on stretchers and laying bodies out on the ground as they shouted conflicting orders to one another. Every gasping breath sent fog streaming through the air, and nurses hurried around with blankets, checking over the walking wounded with gentle hands and sympathetic faces.

'What happened?' Al breathed, horrified by the scene, and Roy could only shake his head in confusion, a curse slipping past his lips as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

The command tower and the infirmary were both still intact, their lamps blaring harsh light through the glassy eyes of their windows. Without hesitation, Havoc pulled up outside the hospital door and, in a matter of seconds, Armstrong had got out of the car and pulled Ed back into his arms.

Straightening up, Roy put on his uniform jacket, feeling the stars of his rank weigh heavily on his shoulder as he followed Alex up the steps. The place was in disarray, and he took a deep breath before entering the ward and looking around at the mass of casualties.

Every spare space was filled with a bed. Some were half concealed behind hastily erected screens or curtains, but most were unobscured. A few sheet-covered figures lay to one side, dead and at peace while the world hurried on around them.

Doctors ran every which way, tired and harassed, their white coats flapping behind them as they tried to prioritise their patients. Nurses scurried around, their movements quick and efficient as they cleaned wounds and offered comfort to those that needed it. The air stank of antiseptic and stress, and Roy wondered how many more of the men would die before the day ended.

Thinking quickly, he pulled on his gloves before stretching out a hand and catching a hurrying sergeant mid-sprint. The man was pale-faced, and sweat beaded his forehead. His eyes widened as he took in the blood-red arrays on Roy's hands, and he threw a panicky salute as he skidded to a breathless halt.

'What happened here?'

'Sir! Several of the dormitories collapsed, sir.' The sergeant gave a hopeless shrug, and there was a quick flare of sullen fury in his eyes. 'Normally they wouldn't have been occupied at this time of day, but we weren't allowed out on the streets to help the civilians. One of the quakes brought the roof in.'

'How many men are still missing?' Roy demanded, taking in the occupants of the ward in one sweeping gaze, his face grim as he did the mental calculations.

'We don't know, sir, not yet. Some of the generals breached the Fuhrer's orders and commanded their men out into the city. Others have been called to an emergency meeting at the Fuhrer's residence. We have tried to get messages to them, but any soldiers that leave are either asked for aid by civilians or detained by the military police.' The sergeant shifted uncomfortably, looking down at the linoleum floor that squeaked under his shuffling feet. 'We've tried our best, but no one's really giving any orders.'

Roy paused for a moment, thinking fast before softening the edge of his voice. 'Well, they are now,' he said calmly, seeing the sergeant visibly relax. 'You have done an excellent job. Havoc, go with the sergeant and organise those capable into rescue teams. If anyone tries to pull rank on you, then tell them that you're under my command.'

He paused, letting calm logic slip to the forefront of his mind as he considered his next instructions. 'Send someone to the office and get Lieutenant Hawkeye and anyone else who is fit for duty. Set up emergency triage tents for the wounded as they are found, and put the dead aside for identification.' Roy took a deep breath, knowing that the decision to stay with Ed was now completely out of his hands. The army called, and he had to answer. 'Myself and Major Armstrong will follow shortly.'

Jean seemed to pick up the unspoken message: There was much that Roy would do for the military, but he needed a few minutes to see to Ed first. The lieutenant nodded in understanding before gesturing for the sergeant to follow him and pushing his way through the crowd, beckoning to the uninjured as he went. They fell in at his side, relief visible on their faces as they got to work, following commands without question.

Roy turned back to the busy prospect of the ward, stopping a nurse and giving her a gentle, charming smile. 'I'm looking for Doctor Collins. Could you spare a moment to find him for me? If you tell him that there has been a change in Major Elric's condition, I would be grateful.'

The young woman blushed prettily, the colour taking some of the dread out of her face as she nodded and set off at an almost-sprint, dashing between the beds as she sought out the doctor.

Al fidgeted restlessly at Roy's side as they waited, trying not to look at the wounded soldiers but unable to tear his eyes away. Lines of grief and hurt etched into his young face, and he looked back at his brother, neither bleeding nor broken. 'Do you think he will come quickly? There are so many badly injured people here and Ed looks like he's just – sleeping.'

'He'll come,' Roy replied firmly. 'Remember, he knows how serious Ed's condition was before.'

It took a few minutes for Doctor Collins to make an appearance, and when he did it was obvious that he was drowning beneath his workload. Dark shadows smudged under his eyes, and his lips were clamped into a thin, tight line. His coat was blotched with blood, and a half unwound bandage trailed from his pocket as if he had stuffed it there absent-mindedly and then forgotten about it.

'Tell me what happened,' he said, not bothering with niceties as he reached up and checked Ed's pulse. Armstrong and Al both turned their backs on the rest of the ward, doing their best to block out the other patients as Roy spoke, explaining as much as he could in a quiet voice.

When Roy mentioned that Ed had not been breathing, the doctor looked up sharply, his eyes searching their faces. 'Did you perform any kind of resuscitation? ' he asked, eyebrows lifting when Roy shook his head. 'He just started again by himself?'

None of them answered, and Doctor Collins' eyes darted to the arrays on Roy's gloves before he took a deep breath and nodded his understanding. 'From the beginning, this young man does not seem to have obeyed the rules of medicine. The details are irrelevant, and it is probably best that I don't know the facts. How long did he stop breathing for? Seconds, a minute, more?'

'Probably more,' Roy said quietly, watching the doctor's expression intently and picking up on every little change in his body language. His shoulders drooped, and he closed his eyes for a fraction too long for it to have been a blink as he let Ed's wrist fall.

'The human body can, at times, be incredibly resilient,' he began, speaking in clear, firm words so that there was no room for misunderstanding or false hope, 'but Major Elric has essentially been dead for more than a minute. Even though now he is, in basic terms, alive, it is possible that the damage to his body in that short time has been too extensive.'

'What does that mean?' Al asked, his voice quiet and small.

'It means that there is very little we can do,' Doctor Collins replied, his expression softening with sympathy. 'He will either wake up on his own, or he will slip away, his reflexes diminishing until he stops breathing again. I will get some chest and head x-rays to try and determine if there is any treatable damage, but other than that I can only provide around-the-clock surveillance. There are some things that no medicine in the world can cure.' He sighed, his voice heavy and regretful as he shook his head. 'I'm sorry that I cannot do more.'

'Thank you,' Roy replied, glancing down and away from the man's pitying gaze. 'Anything you can do to help Major Elric is appreciated.'

With the crook of a finger the doctor summoned a nurse closer, asking her to make a bed available. Ed would hate that his rank had its privileges; no doubt some private was being relocated to make room for him, but Roy was confident that the doctor would make sure anyone displaced was taken care of. He was not the kind of person to prioritise injury based on a meaningless hierarchy. To him all lives were equal, and each one lost probably weighed heavy on the man's shoulders.

'This way please,' the young lady said, leading them through the corridors. Bleached white stretched in all directions, making the deep blue of the men's uniforms seem all the richer for its blandness. Fluorescent lights stripped away the shadows and dragged at Roy's eyes, making his head thud with pain.

The whiteness seemed clinical and cold, and he suppressed a shudder out how impersonal it was. The doctors and nurses may have compassion, but it was doled out in little doses and shared among the many. If a patient died then it was unfortunate, a personal failing, but there were no real consequences. Their lives went on regardless.

In contrast, Roy felt as if his own survival was inexorably intertwined with Ed's. Breath for breath, pulse for pulse, it felt as if two bodies shared one life, and if that failed then they would both be doomed. Ed might slip into death in a matter of hours, and Roy knew that, should that happen, he would be left to wither. He may carry on, but it would be like a puppet going through the motions of existence.

It was hard to remember a time when Ed had been truly meaningless to him – just another subordinate. From the very beginning he had infiltrated his way under Roy's masks and revelled in his ability to stir up hundreds of emotions, from fury to pride. There were years of his life that he had never known Edward Elric, but he could not imagine times like that coming back to him, dark and tainted with despair for the lack of Ed's presence.

'This way, sir.' The nurse's gentle words cut into his thoughts, dragging them away from their morose avenues of consideration and reminding him that, however hopeless things seemed, it was not over yet. Al was right, Ed did not give up on anything easily, least of all life.

Walking swiftly among the waiting soldiers, the nurse led them to a small room secluded away from the rest of the hospital. The bed was already made, and she pulled the sheets back so that Armstrong could ease his burden gently to the mattress. With swift, competent hands she pulled Ed's boots off and placed them out of the way before tucking the blankets firmly around his chin and beginning to fill in her chart, her pleasant face pinched into a frown of concentration.

'Sir, we have to go and help with the rescue efforts,' Alex said gently, his massive hand surprisingly gentle on Roy's shoulder. 'I am certain that Alphonse will tell us as soon as there is any change.'

'I'll be with you in a minute,' Roy replied firmly. His voice betrayed nothing of the way he felt, but Al looked up at him with understanding in his eyes as Alex gave a soft sound of acknowledgement and turned to depart.

The door clicked closed, loud in the sudden silence as Roy hovered awkwardly at Ed's side. After a few moments of hasty scribbling the nurse finished what she was doing and departed, sparing nothing more than a fleeting smile before she slipped out of the door.

There was nothing that Roy could do, no action he could perform that would bring Ed back into conciousness, but he felt compelled to stay. It was as if his presence was somehow essential to Ed's recovery, and the thought of leaving him alone filled him with a hollow, burning ache.

'Why don't we take in turns to watch him?' Al asked quietly, no doubt seeing the desperate conflict of emotions on Roy's face. 'I can stay here for the first hour before we trade places. My alchemy will come in useful moving the rubble, and, if anyone asks questions about why you're keeping an eye on Ed, you can say it was the only way to guarantee my help.' Al glanced towards the closed door, checking that no one was in earshot before he added, 'You mean just as much to Brother as I do, maybe even more. You've got a right to be here.'

Roy knew that he was staring, surprised not only by Al's words, but by his own reaction to them. It was as if he had been longing for someone to validate the way he was feeling, to tell him that he was allowed to worry so much over Ed's welfare, even if the army could never know the true depths of his concern. 'Did he tell you that?'

'He doesn't need to. Since we moved into your place, it's been in every look he's given you.' Al ran a hand through his hair, his voice quiet as he confessed, 'It – it bothered me at first. Not because I was jealous that Ed wasn't paying so much attention to me any more, but because I didn't know if you felt the same way, and I didn't want him to get hurt.'

'And now?' he asked hoarsely.

Al's smile was good and pure. 'No one who has been watching you for the past few days can even doubt how much you care for him. I think you need to be here, just like I do, but you don't have that choice.' Al looked down at Ed's sleeping face, his expression taking on a vulnerable, frightened edge as he bit his lip. 'I can leave him, but only if I know that you're here in my place.'

Roy bowed his head, closing his eyes for a moment as he murmured. 'Thank you.' His gratitude was heartfelt, and he knew that Al meant what he said. He would do whatever he could to give Roy the opportunity to linger at Ed's bedside. Between the two of them, they could work something out. 'I need to get going before they send someone looking for me. Do you need anything?'

Al shook his head before settling into a nearby chair and reaching out to take Ed's hand, clasping his brother's palm tight in his grip. His elbows were propped on the mattress, and exhaustion etched lines into his young face as he waited for Ed to awaken. Grey eyes were pinched and desperate, and it was impossible to ignore how lost Al seemed.

'I expect Miss Rockbell is looking for you,' Roy said softly, smiling as Al looked up in response to Winry's name. 'If I find her, I'll tell her where you are. I'm sure she would be happy to keep you company. That way you're not sitting here all alone.'

'Thanks,' Al whispered tiredly.

Roy nodded, forcing himself to turn and walk away. He almost marched, pushing himself on step-by-step, because, if he hesitated, then he would never leave. The door handle rattled beneath his palm before he pulled it open and stepped out into the corridor. The quiet sanctuary of Ed's room faded away, replaced by the bustle and rush of the hospital ward. He moved with a quick, confident stride towards the doors, looking neither left nor right until he stood on the steps that led down to the parade ground.

Narrowing his eyes against the thick blizzard that poured like diamond dust from the sky, Roy looked around. Puddles no longer danced to the rain's tune. Most were freezing over into flat, dull mirrors of clotted ice, and the ground was glassy sheer. The wind raced by, scooping up the snow and throwing it back into the air as he straightened his shoulders and hurried towards the frontier of broken stone and devastation.

Alex was already shirt-less, muscles bulging as he joined in with the men, picking up rocks and carefully moving them out of the way. Everyone who did not have a shovel was pitching in at the triage tents, hammering in pegs and tying ropes as the beds were filled as quickly as they were put together. There was no doubt that the temperature was continuing to fall, cascading downwards like a falling house of cards, and Roy knew that, at this rate, the injured would be lost to shock and hypothermia within hours.

'Any wood you find, pile it together!' he called out, hurrying forward to lend his strength to Armstrong's as they hauled aside a large chunk of wall. 'We need to get fires lit. Havoc, report!'

'There are still more than fifty men missing, sir,' Jean stated, not stopping in his work. 'Breda's been hospitalised, but I doubt he'll stay there long. Everyone else is here. Falman and Fuery are helping the nurses. They're a bit more beaten up than the rest of us.' He stopped, flexing his injured arm with a wince. 'I might have to join them in a minute,' he said apologetically.

Roy knew that, if he asked it of him, Jean would stay and work his fingers to the bone, damaging his injured arm further. With a quick nod of understanding he said, 'Don't push yourself too hard. You've done more than anyone could reasonably expect. If you need rest, take it.'

'Maybe you should follow your own orders,' Hughes murmured from his left, meeting his questioning gaze with a raised eyebrow. 'Have you looked at yourself recently?' He gestured to the dusty wreck of Roy's uniform and the dried blood down his cheek. 'You really should get yourself seen to, you know.'

Maes' words were quiet, carefully low so that it did not sound like any kind of reprimand, and Roy could not help the fragile smile that curved his lips. Hughes never failed to point out that Roy was far easier on his men than himself, and this time was no exception.

'I'll be all right for now,' he said, wincing as the older wound in his side pulled and ached. 'Have you seen Winry?'

He followed the direction of Maes' pointing finger, looking along the fringe of rubble until he saw her. She was crouched in front of Russell, scraping at a deep graze on his hand. Her gestures were quick and perfunctory and, from the pinched look of pain on Russell's face, she was not exactly being merciful. Fletcher watched with amusement, a piece of ice pressed to his swollen lip. He still looked pale and washed-out from his ordeal in the sewers, but his eyes were bright and alert as he watched Roy approach.

Winry looked up as he came to a halt at her side, squinting through the sleeting snow as she tried to get a good look at his face. 'Is it Ed?' she asked before he could speak, her voice tight as her lips clamped together, pinched white with concern. 'Is he -?'

'There's been no change,' Roy said firmly, keeping his words strong and definite. 'Al asked for you. I think he'd like you to stay with him while he waits for Ed to wake up.'

A faint blush rose in Winry's cheeks, and she ducked her head, concentrating on Russell's injuries as she finished cleaning it with swift, no-nonsense movements before she straightened up. Stiffly, she rolled her shoulders, pausing to cup her bandaged elbow as if it were causing her pain before looking at Roy with bright, determined eyes. 'Where are they?'

As soon as Roy told her, she darted off into the crowd, her hair a banner of blonde in the bright white air as her grudging “thank you” lingered in her wake. She clattered up the infirmary steps and pushed her way through the doors, vanishing from his sight and leaving him standing awkwardly beside the Tringhams.

Russell muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath, snagging a bandage and wrapping it carelessly around his hand. When he finished, he looked up at Roy, his hard eyes taking on an uncertain gleam as he looked around at the injured soldiers and the mess that remained of the dormitories. 'Do you need help?' he asked roughly, his shoulders moving in an awkward, defensive shrug. 'I mean, is there anything either of us can do?'

It would have been easy to say something harsh, to dismiss the boys as nothing but children, but Roy forced the words back. They needed every pair of willing hands to help right now and, besides, for all of his immaturity Russell was a good alchemist. Neither of them had lost their heads in the middle of the battle. Perhaps some experience in clearing up the aftermath would cement in their minds that there really was no glory to any fight.

'If you can think of how your alchemy might help, then use it. Otherwise pitch in and do what you're told.'

'We're civilians,' Russell pointed out darkly. 'We don't have to follow orders.'

Roy gritted his teeth, clamping down on his temper. 'If you won't do what older, wiser people tell you to do, then leave. You'll be nothing but a liability if you can't take advice.' He turned away before adding, 'Any orders you are given are for your own safety. No one's trying to enlist you, Russell. You're not military material.'

Without a second glance at the two boys, Roy strode back to where his men were working, every grunt of effort crystallising white in front of their faces. Mutely, Havoc held out his own shovel, shrugging an apology as he headed for the triage tent, his injured arm cradled against his body.

Stones clanged off the blade as Roy dug it in, working carefully to move the debris aside. He concentrated on the heave and burn of his muscles, forcing himself to focus single-mindedly on the physical strain. Any time he paused for breath, his thoughts returned instantly and inevitably to Ed, tangling themselves in tight twists of worry. He kept expecting someone to run up to him and tell him that Ed was awake, to bring him some kind of news, yet there was nothing but the snow and the shouts of the soldiers.

After almost an hour, he paused, stretching out his arms and looking around. Any wood that had been found was piled around the tents in make-shift bonfires. Several soldiers were trying ineffectually to get them lit, and Roy moved towards the nearest heap, adjusting his gloves as he went

'Stand back,' he ordered, rasping his fingertips together and creating a spark. The fire leapt, dancing from one pile of wood to the next, feasting on the timber and melting the snowflakes that fell within their reach.

Roy's breath trembled in the air as he stared at his hands. All of his life he had experienced the sharp, jagged thrill of energy when he had activated an array, but now that familiar feeling was gone. Instead, something smoother took its place, velvet soft against his skin and warm to the touch. 

It no longer felt like some kind of power, a tool he could utilise. It felt like something natural to him – an extension of his body that obeyed his every command. Before, even the smallest flame had felt like hard work. It had always been an effort, but now manipulating the fire was as simple as breathing. He knew it was not the designs of the arrays that had changed, but the power behind them. The new gate was the cause: Ed's legacy to alchemy.

Someone cleared their throat, breaking into his thoughts, and he looked up to see Doctor Collins huddled in a thick coat. His hands were automatically outstretched towards the cheerful orange flames, and he stared, half-hypnotised, into the fire. The lines on his face were made deeper by the flickering light, and Roy felt his stomach clench tight and hard as the older man met his eyes.

'Major Elric's status is much the same,' the doctor said at length, shifting his weight as he glanced towards the triage tents. 'We took some x-rays, and each one was as completely clear. Even the damage to his lungs has gone. There is no sign of it; it's as if there were never any lesions or scarring.'

Doctor Collins looked back at the flames, licking his dry lips as he continued. 'When you first brought him to me, he was a dead man walking. He may have been furious and stubborn and stronger in mind than in body, but his days were numbered. I had no doubt of that.' He took a deep breath, a sad frown cleaving his brow. 'Now, all signs of illness have left him, but nothing will rouse him. His brother and a young woman have been talking to him endlessly, but there's no sign of him regaining conciousness.'

'What about his reflexes?' Roy asked, trying to keep the desperation from his voice. 'Is he getting weaker?'

The gleam of a black car entering the gates of the command compound distracted the doctor for a moment, but Roy got the impression that the man was not really looking at the world in front of him. He was taking his time to choose his words, and that fact alone increased Roy's fear ten-fold. 

'Not yet. It is possible that his status will never change. He may simply remain asleep.' He clenched his hands into fists, flexing the knuckles before he carried on. 'His brother is too young to legally make a decision with regards to his medical care, but there may come a day when someone has to decide whether or not we continue to offer life support. As his commanding officer, that choice may fall to you.'

The words echoed in Roy's ears, and he knew that the horror must have slipped past his mask to lie across his features. His lips were parted, and he stared unblinkingly at the doctor's profile as he struggled to find the words. 'But he's breathing on his own, isn't he? He doesn't need medical assistance to live; he just won't wake up.'

'He is breathing without help, but he can neither feed himself nor drink. For a time, he can get nutrition through intravenous fluids if necessary, but it is not a permanent solution.' Doctor Collins pulled his hands away from the tempting fringes of the bonfire and tucked them deep into his pockets, hunching his shoulders as the wind howled. 'We cannot sustain him indefinitely.'

'The Fullmetal Alchemist will wake up by himself,' Roy said flatly, unable to keep the hard edge of anger out of his words. 'That choice will not need to be made.'

Collins glanced sideways at him, and there was a small, sad smile on his face as he nodded in acknowledgement. 'I hope you're right, General. It's all in the Major's hands, now. From what I've seen, he's a determined young man. I am sure he will surprise us all. Now, I had best get back to my patients. Besides, it seems that your attention is required elsewhere.'

Roy looked in the direction of the doctor's nod and saw a soldier hurrying over the snowy ground. His cheeks were flushed, and his salute was text-book precise as he slithered to an ungainly halt at Roy's side. 'General Stadt requests your presence, sir.' He gestured to the parked car, and Roy could make out a hulking silhouette against the headlights.

Quickly, Roy glanced back to where the others worked, seeking out Hughes and raising a questioning eyebrow. Maes simply shrugged, giving a puzzled shake of his head before he dug his shovel in again. He had no idea what this was about. Roy was on his own.

Following the soldier back to the car, Roy realised that the engine was still running. It filled the air with its purr, and he doubted that the oversight was accidental. Whatever Stadt had to say, he did not want to be overheard.

Trepidation crawled up his spine, making his stomach thrill with butterflies. Stadt would want an explanation for what had happened, and so much relied on Roy's version of events being believable. Too much could go wrong if the military found out the full truth, and he knew he would rather throw away his own career than see Ed enslaved to the army's greed for power.

The general leant against the side of the car, shoulders straight beneath his coat as he tugged the collar up around his ears. With nothing more than a hard glance, he dismissed the soldier who had summoned Roy, waiting until he was well out of ear-shot before his chiselled face creased with the faintest of smiles.

'I take it from your presence back at the command building that you were successful, Mustang?' he asked, eyes sharp and intent on Roy's face as he waited for a response.

Roy saluted, taking comfort in the simple dictates of military protocol as his mind scrambled for an answer that was precise enough to deter further questions, but suitably vague to hide the truth. 'Central is no longer at risk, sir. A dangerous alchemist was threatening to perform a devastating transmutation. We made sure that she could not proceed.'

'Did you bring her in for questioning?' Stadt's lips twitched as if he already knew the answer. 'I would certainly like to know her motivations and allegiances. Are you certain that she was working alone?'

Roy took a deep breath, trying desperately to read his superior officer's expression. The general probably knew far more than he was letting on, and he did not want to be caught out in a lie. 'Unfortunately, sir, she perished when she tried to activate a poorly drawn array. All of her followers were killed when they offered organised resistance to arrest. We are certain that there are no members of her cadre remaining.'

Silence hung between the two of them, and Stadt rubbed his chin with a gloved hand, scratching at the stubble that shadowed his jaw before giving a slow nod. 'My sources are giving me a mess of conflicting information, but one thing is perfectly clear, Mustang.' He paused, searching Roy's face for any flicker of discomfort or fear. 'The ends justified the means. You did what you had to do, and you succeeded. It seems your luck has yet to run out.'

With great effort, Roy forced himself not to let even a tiny sigh of relief pass his lips. He kept his face stoic and motionless, watching Stadt carefully as he continued to speak. 'You and your men have done exemplary work, and I look forward to reading your report in full. I will be recommending you for promotion. No doubt every ambitious little creep in the army will be angling for one today, but I can honestly say that I think you have earned it.' 

Normally the news of a new rank would have given Roy the sharp glow of warm satisfaction. It was another step on the path to the top, the culmination of all his hard work and ambition, but now it seemed like an empty gesture. He forced his lips into a grateful smile before saying, 'Thank you, sir. It is an honour to serve.'

The general's face became serious as he stared sadly at the remains of the dormitory. 'I doubt that it will remain a secret for much longer, but Fuhrer Hakuro is being ousted. His actions have been reprehensible and have cost us dearly in terms of life. A new Fuhrer will be appointed shortly, and we can only hope it is a man with some sense. Needless to say, it will not be an easy time of transition.'

It was difficult not to let even a flicker of emotion cross his face, and Roy stared fixedly at a point just about the general's head as he tried to stifle the urge to smile. His tiredness was making it a real struggle, and he bit his tongue in a desperate effort not to speak the blunt words that longed to be voiced. Hakuro had always been an idiot, and the fact that the other generals had waited until now to act only highlighted their own lazy ineptitude.

Stadt looked closely at Roy's expression before hesitating, as if thinking something through with great care. 'I will send Brigadier-General Lee to take your place, Mustang. I have no doubt that, over the next few days, your presence will be required throughout the city. Take the opportunity to rest and recover; that's an order.'

'Yes, sir.' 

'Good man. While the higher-ranking generals are fighting like jackals over power, it is soldiers like you who truly shine. I was not exaggerating when I said that you showed promise, Mustang. I hope that you can continue to advance your career with equal success.' 

The general turned to get back in the car, his beefy hand hesitating on the bonnet as he looked over his shoulder. 'Please also convey my regards to Major Elric when he awakens. I believe he had a large role to play in the way events unravelled, and I feel that we are more in his debt than we will ever truly realise. Dismissed, Mustang.'

Roy stood to attention until the general's car had slipped away, muscles humming with tension before he let out a deep sigh of relief and relaxed his stance. He knew that Stadt had far more grasp of the true events of the past few hours than he implied, but it seemed that, for whatever reason, the general was willing to accept his version of what had happened. 

He grimaced, knowing that his report would have to be nothing short of masterful. Still, right now paperwork was the least of anyone's concerns, and there was every chance that the general would conveniently “forget” he had ever requested a written version of events. 

Turning away, he traipsed back to the debris, feeling mentally exhausted from his brief talk with Stadt. He was unused to anyone above him in rank making his life easy, and he would be an idiot to think that the general would never ask anything of him in return. With a shake of his head, he cast his worries aside; he would deal with that when he came to it. For now there was work to be done.

Brigadier-General Lee arrived within half an hour with dozens of keen, fresh-faced men in tow. He relieved Roy of duty with a hearty clap on the shoulder, his bushy moustache bristling as he barked out orders, taking control with admirable ease. 'Go on, get out of here,' he urged. 'Heard a few rumours of what you did. The least you can do is share the glory of the rescue mission!' 

Roy didn't have the strength to argue, and he let the shovel be tugged from his hands before he turned back towards the infirmary. Part of him knew he should sleep – knew he needed his rest as much as everyone else, but his body was fuelled by the sharp bite of worried adrenaline. There was no question about where he had to be, and he carefully navigated his way across the parade ground and through the crowded ward until he could slip into the room where Ed lay.

Winry looked up as he entered, smiling sadly as she gestured to Al. The younger Elric lay fast asleep, his head against the mattress as he clung onto Ed's hand. 'He was going to come and help, but he's so exhausted, and once he fell asleep I didn't have the heart to wake him.'

Roy gestured his hand dismissively. 'Of course not. I don't blame him for staying here. More soldiers have come to help with the rescue mission, and we've received our orders to rest.' He hesitated, not missing the faint, knowing look in Winry's eyes. 'Why don't you see if you can find some spare beds for you and Al? I can watch Ed for an hour or two while you get some sleep.'

'Thank you,' Winry murmured, although he suspected that she knew that his behaviour was more for his own benefit than theirs. Gently, she coerced Al to his feet, supporting his unsteady weight with strong arms as she led him away. Her murmured answers to Al's confused questions faded away down the corridor, and Roy let his shoulders slump as the last fragments of his command mask crumbled beneath the onslaught of his exhaustion.

Slowly, he sank into a chair at the bedside and took Ed's left hand in his own, feeling the strong, sure warmth of his skin. He looked no different than he had when they had first arrived. His face was statue-still, undisturbed by dreams, and his hair was tousled against the pillow. 

It was strange to see Ed so motionless. Normally, no matter what he was doing, there was some trace of animation in his features. Even when he was engrossed in a book he was normally frowning in thought or drumming his fingers on the desk, and Roy found himself searching intently for even the faintest flicker in the placid mask that lay across Ed's face.

The arrays on his body were still carved into his skin in firm, clear lines, and Roy traced the outline on Ed's arm absently, feeling the rough ridge of the scar tissue. He longed to know what the gate had done, what it had asked and given in return. Ed's automail was still attached, gleaming silver in the dull light, and it seemed as if nothing had changed.

Yet something had happened. Dead men did not begin breathing again, and Roy could not forget the whispered promise of equivalent exchange that had echoed through the square outside of Rider's. Doctor Collins had said that the damage to Ed's lungs was gone. Did that mean that the gate had effectively returned the future it had stolen? Did it mean that it had given back Ed the chance to see out his life until the natural end of his days, rather than living a curtailed existence, always overshadowed by the poison of the gate?

More than once, Roy opened his mouth to speak, to beg Ed to wake up, but every plea was captured in clumsy knots on his tongue. He ended up sitting in desperate silence, knowing that there were no magic words that would make Ed open his eyes. All he could do was wait, sitting in a strange, trance-like state as he watched the rise and fall of Ed's chest. 

Doctor Collins words came back to him, whispering in his ear about the choice that he might have to make. If Ed did not wake up, did not return to them, then someone would have to sign the order to let him slip away. Roy's stomach clenched in cold, hard rejection, and his next breath was a shaking, panicky gasp. 

It wouldn't come to that. It just wouldn't, because he knew he did not have the strength to put his signature on that dotted line. It was nothing but a death warrant under a different name, and he could not sign his lover's life away. As long as there was even the faintest chance that Ed would come back to him, he would fight for it, and anyone who tried to over-ride his orders would face excruciating consequences.

Someone nudged their way into the room, the door tapping back gently against the wall as they entered, and the sharp smell of strong coffee overwhelmed the tang of antiseptic. Roy looked up blearily, seeing Hughes standing at his side with a mug held in his outstretched hand.

He accepted it gratefully, curving his hand around the warm vessel as he took a sip of the black brew, feeling it burn all the way down. It was strong and vicious, made for its caffeine kick and not its taste, but it did the trick.

'No change?' Maes asked quietly, settling on the edge of the bed with a sigh as Roy shook his head. 'Seems like we've all spent far too much time at Ed's bedside lately. You're all right to stay, by the way. Everyone's too busy to question where you are.'

A tight, mirthless laugh escaped Roy's lips. 'I don't even really care any more. I need to be here, and I'm not moving for anyone. I can't.'

'You might have to, in the end,' Hughes pointed out gently, looking down into his coffee before he added, 'I keep wondering if I did the right thing, encouraging you and Ed to get together. I guess – I guess that I thought Ed would be all right and that maybe you would have found someone you could really share your life with.'

'You got the second part right.' His voice was a quiet, broken thing as he watched Ed's face, feeling his heart clench cold and painful in his chest.

'Hey, come on,' Maes urged, breaking the silence. 'It could still happen. Think about it like an alchemist, Roy. Think of all the energy that it took for Ed to perform that transmutation. Surely that'd exhaust anyone?' He put his coffee mug down on the cabinet beside the bed and turned away. 'I'm going to get a nurse to come and take a look at you. Ed'll wake up soon, and if you're still a bloody mess when he does, he's going to be pissed off as hell.'

Roy's protest fell on deaf ears as Hughes wandered out into the corridor, returning in no time with a matronly woman in her fifties. Maes excused himself with a cheerful wave as she bullied Roy into showing her his wounds, cleaning away blood and grime and applying bandages where necessary. When she was done she stepped back, surveying him with a critical eye.

'You'll do,' she said eventually, packing up her things. ''I'll leave you two alone for a while. He's as strong as he was when you brought him to us, and I'm sure you will alert us of any change.'

He nodded, too tired to articulate his thanks as she walked away. Stiffly, he draped the jacket over the end of the bed, resuming his seat and reclaiming Ed's hand. The nurse had been neither quiet nor gentle, and Ed had slept on through her firm words and Roy's half-suppressed sounds of pain. Maybe Hughes was right. Maybe Ed would wake up soon, but there was no sign of his return to conciousness. He was the same as before, neither better nor worse.

The world outside of the room's four walls fell away, becoming something distant and inconsequential. Snow continued to fall beyond the small windowpane, collecting in clots on the sill and drifting past on the wind. It pattered down softly, counting off the seconds of the day. Roy kept expecting someone to barge in and shatter the peace, demanding his presence, but gradually he began to relax, letting the thick fog of exhaustion shroud his mind and body.

Distant noises became muffled as he lay his head on the mattress. The familiar scent of Ed's skin was comforting, drowning out the burn and bite of antiseptic in the air as Roy let his eyes drift closed. He could still feel the stiff starch of the sheets beneath his cheek and the dull pain in his muscles, but his mind was disconnected, floating on a sea of slumber that dragged him deeper and deeper into the depths with every moment.

Time passed silently, slipping away like water between his fingers as his dreams tangled their way through his mind. He was chasing Ed through the alleys around The Grindle, and he knew that, if he could catch him, he would be safe. Yet every time he turned a corner he would see the trailing edge of his red coat of the blazing tip of his braid vanishing from sight.

He was always that little bit too far behind, and Ed was always just out of his reach, urging him on but never staying still or waiting for him. Fear writhed like a snake in his stomach, and the air burned in his lungs, fast and urgent... .

Something brushed against the gash on his cheek, bringing him to full wakefulness with a stab of pain. He blinked blearily at the creases and valleys of the sheet that filled his vision, wondering how long he had been asleep. Sunshine still glowed weakly through the falling snow, so it could not have been more than an hour or so, but it felt like years.

His neck was screaming vile abuse at him, and his body felt stiff and sore from being hunched over the bed. With a groan he stood up, pressing one hand to the nape of his neck as he cuffed at his eyes with the other, trying to clear away the haze of sleep away.

'You look fuckin' exhausted.'

The gravelly words were loud in the quiet little room, and Roy jerked his head up in shock, staring in surprise as Ed looked at him through sleepy, golden eyes. Weariness shadowed Ed's features, and every blink seemed to take longer than normal, but there was colour in his cheeks, and a small, weak smile lit his face. 

Roy's first thought that he was still asleep, that this was some kind of dream within a dream and, any minute now, he would wake up in the real world and Ed would be as still and silent as before. Except that Ed was watching him with growing confusion, frowning as he continued to stare blankly.

'You're awake,' Roy said, stupidly stating the obvious. 'How long – When did you wake up? Are you all right? Does anything hurt?' 

Ed blinked at the barrage of questions, opening his eyes more fully as he gave Roy a puzzled frown, no doubt reading every emotion that laid itself bare in his words. 'I'm fine,' he rasped, his voice painfully hoarse as if he had been shouting at the top of his lungs all day. 'Just tired. I woke about five minutes ago because you were snoring.' His gaze flickered nervously over Roy's features. ' What's wrong? Did – did something happen? Did I fuck something up?' 

Ed struggled to prop himself up on his elbows, ignoring the Roy's attempt to press him back down into the pillows as real fear pinched his face. 'Al and Hughes – are they all right?' he stammered. 'It didn't - it didn't take them back, did it?'

'What?' For a moment Roy didn't understand what he was saying, and then realisation flooded through him. Ed was worried that the gate had tried to reclaim Al and Maes. He didn't care about his own health; he was worried about his brother. 'No, nothing touched them. It didn't even try. They're both fine.'

'Then what's wrong?' Ed asked quietly, his voice taking on a fierce edge as he tried to understand the expressions on Roy's face. He reached up, carefully tracing the cut across Roy's cheek. His fingers were warm and solid, even if they shook slightly, and Roy leant into his touch as if it were a lifeline. 

He swallowed tightly, trying to choke back the sob of sheer, untainted relief that clogged his throat and made his heart skip with joy. 

This was no dream. This was real.

'You died,' he gritted out, circling Ed's wrist with his fingers and feeling the pulse beneath his touch skitter with shock. 'When the transmutation ended, you weren't breathing. I thought – I thought I'd lost you.' His voice cracked, broke, and he saw the brief flutter of surprise on Ed's face.

'Roy?' Ed's voice had never sounded so uncertain in his presence before, and he choking down hard on a sob as Ed got clumsily to his knees, his legs tangling in the sheet as he tugged Roy weakly into his mismatched arms and held on tight.

His body trembling like a leaf in a gale, shaking uncontrollably as he clung on tight, burying his face in Ed's shoulder and breathing in the scent of him as he forced the sting of tears back from his eyes. The muscles of Ed's arm flexed as he tightened his embrace, rubbing his automail hand awkwardly across Roy's back as he waited for the shivers of desperate, incapacitating relief to fade.

'You're really awake,' Roy managed, his voice choked in his throat as he shifted his hands, curving his palms over Ed's shoulders to feel cool steel and warm flesh. 'I thought I was going to have to live without you.'

'I'm sorry,' Ed said quietly, his automail thumb brushing back and forth along Roy's neck. 'I'm really sorry. It took everything I had. There just wasn't anything left to keep me going.' He shifted on the mattress, his weight dragging at Roy's shoulders as he relaxed weakly into Roy's arms. 'I think I'm only here because the new gate chose to try and even up the balance: Its existence for mine.'

'Thank god,' Roy replied hoarsely. He slipped a hand under the back of Ed's t-shirt, feeling the ridge of his spine and the swell of every breath he took, revelling in the simple rhythms of life beneath his palms. 'You were owed, Ed. After all it took from you, giving you back the life it stole was the least it could do. I'm just so fucking glad that you're all right.'

'Course I am,' Ed muttered, his shoulders moving in an embarrassed shrug. 'Like I'm going anywhere. What about you; are you hurt? That fucker Envy got past me, and I couldn't even warn you.'

Roy moved his hands, cupping Ed's chin and pulling back so that he could see the honesty in his face. 'I'm all right. A couple of cuts and bruises, nothing else. You're the one who had us all worried sick.' He brushed his thumb over Ed's lips, closing his eyes in brief delight as Ed's tongue darted out to lick and taste. 'I should get the doctor,' he said quietly, 'and I need to tell your brother you're all right.'

Ed looked towards the door, his face a picture of conflicted emotions. Gently, he snagged his fingers in Roy's cuff, stopping him from pulling away. 'Can it wait?'

'The sooner you see the doctor, the sooner I can take you home.'

A grin flashed across Ed's face at the deep warmth in Roy's voice, but he still shook his head. 'As soon as you go out there, the shit's really going to hit the fan. Everyone's going to start fussing and asking stupid questions and –' He hesitated, tightening his arms around Roy's neck. '- and I'd kind of like a few more minutes without all that – just with you.'

Roy's smiled as he nodded in helpless agreement before tracing his fingers along Ed's jaw. Carefully, as if he might break, he tipped Ed's face up to his and kissed him tenderly, biting gently at Ed's lower lips and letting out a rough sound as Ed responded eagerly.

He knew that he should be waiting until they were safely behind closed doors to skim his hands over Ed's body and reassure himself that his lover was at his side, body, mind and soul, but he could not bring himself to step away. After all that they had been through, this moment was perfect.

The real world might beckon but, just for a little longer, it could wait.

The blaze of the sunset splashed through the window, bestowing a wealth of crimson and gold on the white bedsheets and dappling the room with shifting shadows. It had finally stopped snowing, and the world beyond the windowpane was blanketed in ice, pure and unsullied beneath the sun's dying light.

Roy lay on his side, Ed's head pillowed on one arm as he pressed his palm over his lover's heart. Their pulses throbbed in equal time, and he brushed his fingers down the edge of Ed's ribcage before pulling him closer and pressing a rough kiss to the top of his head.

'I'm never going to let you go again,' he said fiercely. He had spent too long fearing that he would never get a simple moment like this with Ed again, and now he revelled in the feel of his young body pressed against him. 

A gentle kiss swept along Roy's collarbone, followed by the hot flicker of Ed's tongue across his skin, and Roy struggled to keep the tight growl of want in his chest. They could not stop touching each other. Every moment awake was spent re-learning every dip and angle, and when sleep snatched them into its grasp they curled up in each other's arms, close, trusting and inseparable.

If the hospital had not been so desperately in need of beds, Ed would have been left in the doctor's care, and Roy would have been forced to hold himself concerned and distant at Ed's bedside. Instead, Doctor Collins had given Ed strict instructions to go home and rest, and they had both made the most of it, drifting between dreams and soft, trailing caresses all afternoon as their exhaustion slowly ebbed away.

Now, Ed's eyes were narrow slits of gold as he trailed his finger in random patterns over Roy's bare chest, lost in the depths of his thoughts.

'Are you all right?' Roy asked, resting his hand gently over Ed's hair as he tightened his arms around Ed's back. 'You're very quiet.'

'Just thinking,' Ed replied, trailing his hand down to the bare jut of Roy's hip before he added, 'about when I was rebuilding the gate.'

The tension snapped back into Roy's body like a steel trap crashing shut, biting its teeth through his skin and into his muscles as he went rigid in Ed's arms. 'I thought it was over,' he said quietly, hating how easily the fear returned to thrash through his body. 'I thought there was nothing else you had to do.' 

'There isn't. I mean, it all works all right, doesn't it? Alchemy and everything?'

'Perfectly. Beautifully,' Roy assured him, pulling him closer as he murmured, 'I saw what you made, Ed. I don't know what the old gate looked like, but what you built was – stunning. I'm so proud of you.' Inch by inch he relaxed again, letting the mattress cradle his body as he skimmed his hands over Ed's skin, reassuring himself that his lover was real and safe beside him.

He bent his head to catch Ed's lips in his own, but Ed pulled back, looking up into his face with a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he murmured, 'Did you mean it?' Ed's question was little more than a whisper in the peace of the house, and Roy looked down at him in surprise. 

'Mean what?'

Ed rolled his eyes as if he were being stupid, and Roy could feel the taut, nervous shift of Ed's muscles beneath his hands. 'When you said that – that you loved me. Did you mean it?' There was a hint of something very dangerous in Ed's expression, but alongside it was a naked vulnerability that took Roy's breath away. 'I mean – if you were just saying it because you thought I wasn't coming back then –'

The kiss stole away the rest of what he had been about to say, and Roy felt the tense hum of Ed's muscles melt as he angled his head to trace his tongue along Ed's lip before dipping deeper to taste him. Ed's hands curled against his chest, and his eyelashes fluttered against Roy's cheeks as a tight, happy moan escaped him.

'Of course I meant it,' Roy said roughly as he pulled back, pressing his forehead to Ed's and meeting Ed's gaze without blinking. 'Ed, I love you.' 

'Good,' Ed whispered fiercely as he dragged him back down, 'Otherwise I would have had to kill you.' He returned the kiss taste for taste as his fingers tangled in Roy's hair, lips parted and willing as he arched his back.

Roy laughed against Ed's mouth, not doubting it for a second as Ed tipped his head back, making a rough growling sound at the press of Roy's body over his own as he slid his legs apart temptingly.

The sheets hushed all around them, whispering a secretive harmony to every move they made. Ed's hands clutched at Roy's shoulders, his body curving into every gentle, teasing caress as Roy worshipped him with lips and tongue and touch, wordlessly thanking Ed again and again for coming back to his side.

Real life did not work like a fairytale. Battles could be won and lost, but life was a war of survival from start to finish. Yet here, in Ed's arms, Roy knew that he would never get any closer to his happy ending. 

Ed was his, and he was Ed's. They belonged to each other and, whatever the world threw at them, they would face it together: side-by-side and unafraid.

The End