Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

Part 4 of 4 in a series of oneshots that are all connected from differing view points, all averaging about 1000 words more or less. Previous parts can be found on my profile or at my LiveJournal.

For this one, we return to Roy's POV. I hope you enjoy XD!

Spell checked, proof read, un-beat'd.

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The Dark of Night

Somehow, Roy had managed to make his way through the maze of streets with the surprisingly heavy burden that Fullmetal made. By the time he had made it back up those winding stairs and into the old building that clearly had a past life as some sort of religious gathering place, he was uncomfortably coated in blood all down his front, even down inside his boots.

His burden was quickly taken away from him leaving his arms quaking with overexertion. Falman hovered beside him, anxiously rolling a pen through his fingers and trying not to look at his now purple uniform. The red blood had stained the whole front of his jacket and pants making him wish that he could conjure arrays as easily as Fullmetal did. If only he could clap and rid the soiled marks like he'd seen Edward do. But beyond fire alchemy, he wasn't as versatile as the young man they were currently whipping off the Central Medical Center on the other side of town.

"Where's the lieutenant?" Roy said in aside to the man next to him as he wiped his stained hands ineffectually along his thighs.

"Ah, we found this boy—"

"An enemy?"

"No, sir. He just…appeared in a flash of light behind the men. He was naked and didn't seem to really know what was going on," reported Falman. "Hawkeye took him to the hospital since he kinda looked…malnourished...and he said his name was…Alphonse…"

Roy nodded in understanding. The rest of the men he had gathered to surround this place were packing up in preparation to head back. Alphonse… Roy blinked rapidly a few times, but his mind seemed sluggish. Must be shock setting in.

He rubbed his palms down his leg.

"What happened, sir?" asked Falman, easing forward to look at him from beneath the fringe of his white hair. "How did the Fullmetal get like that?"

"I…don't know for sure. I found him like that." Roy swallowed tightly, remembering the blood covered room where Ed had been laying. He quickly scanned the interior of the building and decided to keep whatever additional speculations he had to himself. There were too many ears and eyes around to go spouting off his mouth just because he was a little shell shocked. "Falman, I think we're done here. I need to get cleaned up."

"Yes, sir. I'll bring around the car."

The ride was tensely quiet. The blood was drying and making the material of his uniform stiff and itchy. But, above all, the smell—it seeped up into his nose. He wanted to open the window, but didn't want to show a weakness in front of his subordinate. So, he quietly went mad with the knowledge that he was coated in Edward's blood, smelling the iron and wondering if there was even room to dare hope that somehow, someway, the boy would survive the trauma of being run though.

He found it hard to stop the shaking long enough to insert the key into his door. Removing his soiled clothing had his hands trembling. The blood was turning sticky and he let the uniform drop to the floor gratefully. The shower was quick, unfortunately, but he couldn't allow himself to stay here. He had to get to the hospital and appear like he wasn't as anxious as he was to hear about Edward's condition. He had to remain visible so that the rumors of his presence in Central appeared to have another meaning that didn't have any connection to his original intent.

A spare uniform was hastily donned and he was back out and into the car within twenty minutes. Without being told, Falman turned the car towards the medical facility. The hospital was painfully white and clean…and…white…but Roy could only see red everywhere. Stoically ignoring what his eyes were telling him, Roy made his way to the trauma wing, Falman dogging his heals.

Upon arrival, Roy tersely ordered Falman to find Hawkeye and get an update on the other boy, leaving him alone in the waiting area. Leaving him to replay the scene—the blood bathed room—over and over again in his mind.

Roy absently worried his fingers back and forth against his palms. Every now and again looking down at his fingers that had remained stubbornly tainted a faint red. No matter how hard he pressed, it did nothing to remove the discoloration.

Before too long, Falman came back with Hawkeye. In that time, though, Roy had learned that Edward was still alive—sort of—and was still in surgery. The other boy was fine according to Hawkeye. He was given something to help him sleep because he had become very upset and cried terribly. Hawkeye relayed that the boy did indeed seem to be Fullmetal's younger brother. Again, Roy didn't seem to have or feel any sort of response to this news.

"How did your little 'project' go, sir?" asked Falman at length.

Roy lifted his head and looked sidelong at the man to his right. "The F—he wasn't there, and then I heard about that place. There wasn't time to go looking for him. It was either—Fullmetal or him." He caught himself just in time. He had almost slipped up twice. Saying that he was going after the Fuhrer and almost saying Edward's name aloud. He couldn't let anyone who might be listening know what he was still doing here and he couldn't let his officers know that he was might be too attached to the young alchemist.

The time passed slowly, and Roy found that he didn't have the energy to pace. He felt shaky and tired. If he allowed his hands to dangle between his legs, he could watch them tremble.

Hours passed. Falman finally left to take care of the report once Hawkeye reminded him, and she finally left him to be with Alphonse in case he might wake. Neither of them suggested that Roy should be elsewhere. They knew him too well…

But now…Roy was alone.

Without the others hovering over him, he was able to drop the mask slightly and his mind wandered. He really shouldn't be thinking about all the times he spent teasing Ed, watching with a manic kind of glee each time he triggered the blond to react. Nor should he think about how he left it with Edward. Standing on the street with dusk falling about them, the golden sunset playing in Fullmetal's hair as the stood facing each other; all Roy could think of was how Edward was going to be a lady killer in just a few months more.

He rubbed his hands again, feeling as though they were still coated with blood. Would they ever feel clean again?

A doctor suddenly rounded the corner and looked around uncertainly. Roy eyed him, wondering if he was the one working on Fullmetal. But he didn't look like he'd just come from the operating room and he wasn't—

"Excuse me," the doctor said, coming towards him. "Colonel Mustang?" Roy felt suddenly ill.

"Yes," he said, and stood.

"You better come with me." Roy followed, his legs feeling wooden and stiff. Chaotic thoughts swirled through his mind in a Technicolor flash. "He's been asking for you," the man said, pushing open a swinging door and standing aside to let him pass. He resisted the urge to swallow as he moved past the doctor and into the room beyond. Roy waited until the door was gently allowed to close, giving him time to view the room fully.

Painted in the institutional colors that graced all the walls here, the room was stark of anything that would give it life or personality. The only furniture in the room was a bed with high metal railings and one lone and uncomfortable looking chair. And the only occupant of the room looked dwarfed by the size of the bed. Large bulky machines crowed each other along the wall by Edward's head, beeping or ticking to mark the life functions of who they were attached to. They were state of the art; the newest innovations in medical technology and all for Edward.

Roy stood in the door way feeling uncommonly shy about entering further. He didn't deserve to be here. If that boy really was Alphonse, it should be the brother here. Rubbing his hands down his thighs in order to rid the feeling of stickiness that remained, he made his slow way to the bed side, one hand landing on the railing. Edward's complexion was a sickly yellow tint and his breath puffed out around the face mask delivering oxygen in a steady stream.

He looked dead. He should be dead. He'd seen soldiers die from less grievous wounds even with the best medicine. Roy let his eyes travel down Edward's body and rest on the limp hand resting on top of the bed sheets. How long he stood there, blankly staring at Fullmetal's hand, he didn't know. He kept thinking—or trying not to think about how small Edward—Fullmetal—was in his arms, or how much blood the boy must have lost. The self recriminations came quickly behind, reminding him cruelly that it was him that encouraged Fullmetal to join up and put himself in harm's way.

Fullmetal's hand suddenly twitched. The mask was quickly reconstructed before he would allow himself to look down onto Edward's face. Dull golden eyes stared at him through heavy eyelids.

"Fullmetal," said Roy softly. Recognition sparked as the eyes lifted slowly to his face.

"Colonel," Edward croaked. The voice sounded raw and rough even through the mask. Roy quickly searched the room, finding a cup full of ice chips on the table beside the bed. He snagged the cup and fished out a sliver of ice. After carefully removing the mask he pressed the ice to the chapped lips and into Edward's mouth. "Thanks," said Edward, his voice marginally better.

Roy nodded, going back for another ice chip. "I found you. I—what happened down there? So much blood…" Roy frowned at himself for sounding so shaken.

"Glad you were there," grunted Fullmetal, taking the ice into his mouth and panting slightly. Roy put the cup aside and replaced the mask.

"You wanted to see me?" Roy said kindly, prompting him for more information.

"Al's gone—Envy might not be dead for real…" he gasped. "No philosopher's stone. You?"

Roy wanted to take Full—Edward's hand, but didn't know if stepping over that line would be acceptable to the young man. He wanted to tell him that they found a boy who claimed he was Alphonse, but wasn't sure it was wise to excite Edward right now. He looked almost dead as it was. Instead he turned his mind to question. Me what?

"Ah…" Then it occurred to him; his operation to the Fuhrer's mansion. "Not there. I don't know if he got wind of…anything or not," said Roy, choosing his words carefully just incase there were other ears in the room.

"Roy," gasped Edward, lifting his hand from the bed slightly. Roy blinked at being called by his first name. While it wasn't unheard of for Edward to call him thus, it was rare. It was on the tip of his tongue to say Edward's name back—it wasn't like he hadn't been struggling within his mind on what he should call the young man since he found him underground—but, instead, he just leaned forward slightly.

"What can I do?" asked Roy. Edward lifted his hand further from the bed and touched his on the railing with a soft brush.

"Stay," said Edward, his voice almost lost over the steady hiss of oxygen. The hand fell back to the bed sheet, lightly bouncing before it settled and stilled. Roy watched those eyes slide close and just stood there watching. Several times, he found himself watching the chest rise and fall somewhat unsteadily. After a while he remembered the chair and pulled it up close to the bed side. Finally, he reached through the metal railing and took Edward's cold hand in his.

He would stay. Until the boy claiming to be Alphonse was better or until he could no longer put off what he'd started. But for now, in this quiet moment with a boy he always tried to hide his true feelings for, he would indulge.

--End—

Total word count approx 2,108. So much for sticking with my 1,000 word limit.

Please review!