A/N: Hi! This is just a quick oneshot with lots of ParentalRoy and hurt/comfort, it was one of the first fics I ever wrote. Just wanted to say thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy.

Ed got in Mustang's car without even looking. Riza had been teaching him to drive in the Colonel's car whenever they had a few days of downtime, and they had had today planned for about a week now. Ed was excited. In between all the saving-the-world and trying-to-get-his-body-back, Ed was just a normal teenage boy, and learning to drive was a rite of passage that he was overjoyed he still got a chance to experience in the midst of everything else. Even though he was still nervous behind the wheel, he'd been looking forward to this lesson since they'd planned it.

"Hi, Riza, I…" But Ed trailed off before he had finished his sentence. Because it wasn't Riza sitting in the driver's seat.

It was Mustang.

Before Ed had time to form a single conscious thought, his body reacted. He threw himself at the door, trying to make it out of the car before Mustang had time to say anything to him. But Mustang was faster, and he locked the door before Ed could pull the handle.

"Stop, wait, what are you doing?" Mustang said, a little angrily. "Don't you want a driving lesson?"

"You're...you're not Riza…." Ed said, completely unable to keep the panic out of his voice.

Mustang's brow furrowed. "I am aware that I am not the lieutenant," he said stiffly, "but I am just as capable at driving as she is. Some of her friends were going out today, and it's been awhile since she's had any time to herself, so I decided to take over your driving lesson instead."

Ed started to protest, but before he could really get anywhere Mustang cut him off. "How many times have you been out driving?"

Ed looked down at his lap. "Twice."

"So you're just a beginner," Mustang said thoughtfully. "Let's get as far outside of Central as we can. So you have fewer things to hit."

Ed scowled, but he couldn't really disagree. The last time Riza had driven with him, he'd let out the clutch too fast and they'd almost run down an old lady and her dog. It was not Ed's proudest moment. So he settled for looking displeased and sunk into the passenger seat. Mustang turned the keys in the ignition and cleared his throat.

"Before pulling into traffic, always check your mirrors." He pointedly looked at the rearview, then checked his side mirror.

"Once it's clear, make sure that your indicator is on-" he demonstrated by turning on his left hand turn signal- "and carefully enter the roadway."

Ed stared at him in abject horror. There's no way I can deal with this the entire time. Please, please, let this all be a joke.

The car continued down the street. "Always obey the speed limit laws: they're there for a reason."

This can't be happening to me.

They neared a roundabout, and Mustang made a small noise of satisfaction. "Ah, a traffic circle! Excellent. Now, pay attention- these can be tricky."

Without much hope, Ed tried the door handle. It was still locked. He sighed as loudly as possible and slumped against the closed window. Mustang looked over and narrowed his eyes.

"Are you listening? I'm giving you valuable pointers."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm listening. Hey, aren't you supposed to be looking at the road or something?"

Mustang gritted his teeth. "Mock me, and you'll never learn anything!"

Ed didn't dignify that with a response. The two sat in silence for a few minutes, Ed staring glumly out the window.

"Hey, do you have music in this thing?" Ed finally asked.

"Of course," Mustang said, and Ed's spirits lifted. Maybe if they were listening to music, the drive wouldn't be quite so bad. Ed could focus on whatever Mustang was playing rather than what he was saying.

Mustang hid a few buttons, and the soft sound of strings began to emanate from the stereo. Ed stared at the Colonel. "Is this...is this classical?"

"Yes it is," Mustang said. "It's the best music for effective learning."

"Your face is the best music for effective learning," Ed muttered under his breath, grinding his teeth. The Colonel either didn't hear him or was choosing to ignore him. He just continued blathering on about turn signals and lane position and proper steering wheel hand placement. Ed put his head against the window and tried to imagine that he was anywhere but here. Mustang had taken one of the few things that Ed had actually been excited about and ruined it.

Ed had been so focused on not listening to Mustang talk that what actually caught his attention was Mustang not talking. Ed had been staring dejectedly out the window when all of a sudden Mustang broke off with a small gasp. Ed quickly looked over, and the Colonel was rubbing his side, an expression of pain on his face. However, his hand was back on the steering wheel so quickly that Ed was almost sure he had imagined it.

But now that Ed was paying attention, he could see that Mustang was looking a little pale. There were dark circles under his eyes, or at least, there were more dark circles than there usually were. Ed considered asking if the Colonel was alright, but he figured Mustang would just launch into some speech about proper question-asking technique while operating a vehicle, so Ed kept his mouth shut. He sank back sullenly in his seat, and wondered if he could survive opening the door and throwing himself out of the moving car. Probably not, he thought, and resigned himself to the uncomfortable journey out of Central.

Mustang looked at Ed and frowned. The kid was twisted around in his seat, staring out the window. He clearly wasn't listening, and what's worse, he was making it obvious. Mustang opened his mouth to explain how to change lanes, then sighed. Ed wasn't paying attention anyway, what was the point? Besides, the stomachache he'd been nursing all day was getting worse, and he'd rather not add an Elric-induced migraine to his problems. So he just concentrated on getting them out of Central, saving his strength for Ed's actual lesson.

Finally, when the car was surrounded by trees and not by other vehicles, Mustang deemed them far enough away from civilization to avoid any nasty accidents. Not without some trepidation, he turned the car off and slid out of the driver's seat. Ed took his place and seized the wheel with what seemed to Mustang to be an alarming measure of glee.

"Don't do anything until I'm in the passenger seat," Mustang warned him. He could easily envision an overexcited Ed crashing his beloved car into a tree, especially without Mustang beside him to provide a calm and rational presence. He walked around the front of the car, but as he opened the passenger's side door, the knots in his stomach turned to a stabbing pain and he paused. His knuckles whitened on the handle as Ed eyed him curiously from the driver's seat. Then, the pain subsided and he climbed back into the car.

"Alright, I assume Lieutenant Hawkeye has shown you how to-"

"I know how to start the car," Ed interrupted. "And how to shift gears. And how to drive in a straight…well, straightish line."

Mustang was determined not to lose his temper. As infuriating as the Elric boy could be, he knew that this was important to him, and he wanted to make it a good experience. So he swallowed his anger at being cut off and continued speaking.

"Then let's start with a straight line."

Ed nodded and turned the car on. Then, with an expression of grim determination on his face that Mustang had previously only seen in high stakes battles, he very carefully began to let the clutch out.

Not carefully enough. The car stalled out with an unpleasant jerk that caught Mustang by surprise and forced a groan from his lips as the pain in his stomach intensified. He stayed bent over for a few seconds, clasping his side.

"Colonel? Umm…you okay? Was it really that bad?"

Mustang straightened up to see Ed looking at him uncertainly. "I'm fine," he said shortly. "Just try it again."

This time, Ed was able to get the car moving. They crept along at a snail's pace, until Mustang thought that Ed was ready to try shifting.

"Accelerate gently," he instructed. "When you hear the car growl, shift a gear up."

This time, there was a horrible crunching sound as Ed mistakenly threw the car into reverse. They came to a juddering stop, and Mustang gritted his teeth against the waves of pain emanating from his side. Luckily, Ed was too angry at his own mistake to notice Mustang's difficulties.

"Fullmetal…." Mustang started to say, but Ed cut him off.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I was trying to...make it go forward."

"I know you were," Mustang said as gently as he could manage. "Let's just try it again."

Ed was such a talented kid that Mustang sometimes forgot he was just that: a kid. Ed was one of the most skilled alchemists that Mustang had ever had the pleasure of working with, and he had seen more in his short life than many adults had. But now, watching the Fullmetal Alchemist struggle to even get the car pointed the right direction, Mustang was suddenly fiercely aware that Ed really was just a child. He had to learn how to drive, just like any normal teen, there was nothing about being a State Alchemist that would let him bypass that. And he was clearly struggling with it. Mustang thought this might be the first time he had ever seen Ed struggle with anything.

It was interesting to see him like this, so uncomfortable and vulnerable. Every time he made a mistake he would quickly look over at Mustang, eyes wide and embarrassed. His hands were tense on the steering wheel, his breathing anxious even when the car was only moving about five miles an hour. Mustang tried to be as gentle with the young alchemist as he could, since he could see how nervous the whole situation was making him. Even when Ed almost crashed the car, Mustang forced himself not to raise his voice. Ed was a little short with Mustang a couple of times, but Mustang thought it was only because he was so stressed and tried not to hold it against him.

But, after less driving time than Mustang had wanted, the constant starting and stopping was starting to become a little too intense. He didn't know exactly what was wrong with him, but he'd been feeling ill all day, and he didn't think he would be able to keep driving with Ed as long as he'd wanted to. He was in too much pain. He wavered, unwilling to cut Ed's lesson short but unsure how much longer he could last.

Ed finally got the car started and moved carefully over a large pothole. The resulting shock of pain made Mustang's decision for him. Ed stalled out again, and exclaimed in anger. He reached for the keys, but Mustang stopped him.

"That's enough for today, Fullmetal. Don't get frustrated. You're really picking this up quite quickly."

Ed grinned at the compliment, clearly relieved to have some positive feedback. Mustang felt slightly guilty that it hadn't been sincere, but he wasn't about to tell the young alchemist the truth about why they were stopping. Moving carefully, he got out of the car and reclaimed the driver's seat, restraining a small cry of pain through sheer will. Slowly, he turned the car around and began the drive back to Central.

Ed leaned against the window, admitting silently that the driving lesson hadn't gone quite as badly as he'd feared. Mustang was infuriatingly pedantic, but he wasn't the worst teacher, and he'd said that Ed had done well. Ed smiled slightly. He was determined to master driving. If I can become a State Alchemist, then I can figure out how to work a clutch. Apparently, he wasn't as far off as he'd thought.

He looked over at Mustang, who'd been oddly silent for the past five minutes. On the way here, he'd been full of dreadfully boring driving tidbits. As soon as Ed saw his face, he understood why he'd been so quiet. The Colonel was deathly pale, and his face was drawn with pain. Ed was opening his mouth to say something, to ask the Colonel if he was alright, when Mustang cried out and doubled over. They began to veer off the road, and Ed was reaching frantically for the wheel when Mustang slammed on the brake. The car shuddered and died, and Mustang's hand went to his side. He breathed heavily in and out, and then his body seemed to relax. He leaned his head back against the seat, and Ed could see sweat shining on his forehead.

"What…?" Ed began, but Mustang cut him off.

"Well, Fullmetal, it seems that your driving lesson isn't over quite yet. I'm clearly in no condition to drive, and as inexperienced as you might be, you will still probably present less of a road hazard than I would in my current state."

Ed didn't even take offense to the comment about his driving skills - not really. Instead, he turned to his door and opened it. Before he got out, he turned and looked back at Mustang.

"What do you think is wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," admitted Mustang. "Food poisoning? That cafeteria is a death trap."

"I like their sandwiches," Ed muttered, but he knew this wasn't really the time or the place to get into a debate about the military's canteen. He walked around to the driver's side as Mustang slid over slowly, pausing occasionally with a grimace. Ed sat in front of the wheel and looked at it with defiance. I can do this.

"Fullmetal?" Mustang whispered before Ed turned the key in the ignition. His voice was breathless with pain.

"Yeah?"

"Please...try to drive as smoothly as you can," he said tightly.

Ed nodded and swallowed hard, examining the road in front of him. Luckily, they were still pretty far from Central, and the roads were almost entirely devoid of cars this far out. Ed couldn't really see any signs of civilization anywhere around them, which was something of a relief. Fewer things to hit. Ed took a deep, steadying breath and put his hands on the wheel.

The car jerked forward as soon as Ed turned it on, and Ed winced with sympathy as he heard Mustang gasp beside him. "I don't think you have food poisoning!" Ed said, unable to keep the panic out of his voice no matter how hard he tried. "Are you sure you're alright to do this?"

"We don't have a lot of options, Fullmetal. We have to get back to Central somehow."

Ed nodded tightly and slowly accelerated the car. He brought it up to around five miles an hour, which felt plenty fast to him. He told himself he was driving slowly so he wouldn't further damage Mustang, but he knew he was really just afraid to attempt to go any faster.

They'd been crawling down the road for a few minutes when a car turned in from a side street in front of them, going the opposite direction as Ed. Ed stifled a scream, sure the two cars were going to collide. He had never really been on the road with another vehicle.

Without any conscious thought on Ed's part, he jerked the wheel hard and brought the car to a stop on the shoulder of the road. He slammed on the brakes, and Mustang was jolted against the seat belt. Ed heard Mustang groan.

"What was that?" Mustang yelled at Ed when he'd recovered enough to talk.

"I...I'm sorry, I just...the other car was coming so fast…."

"Did the Lieutenant teach you anything? That was terrible!" Mustang's voice was tight with anger and pain.

"I thought you said I was doing well before…." Ed said, rather meekly.

"Well, I lied," Mustang said shortly. "You're doing quite badly. I just wanted to go back to Central."

Ed wasn't sure how to respond to the Colonel, who, while he could be thoughtless and intense, had never been cruel to Ed before. Ed wasn't sure if he should keep driving in silence, or yell at Mustang some more, or simply get out of the car and leave Mustang out here alone to fend for himself. Unsurprisingly, he settled on yelling.

"Hey, I'm doing the best I can! It's not my fault you ate some bad fish or something! If you hate my driving so much, then-" He broke off as Mustang gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut tight. When he reopened them, they looked glassy, and Ed wasn't sure Mustang could even hear him. Ed paused, but the Colonel didn't snap back. He didn't even look angry anymore - just pale and sick. Without another word, Ed pulled back out onto the road.

Mustang slumped against the car door, trying to keep awake and alert. It was difficult; the pain was coming in increasing waves. The smallest jostle was sending him into spasms of uncontrollable agony…and there were a lot of jostles. Ed was trying his best, but he didn't seem to understand the concept of staying within the lines of the road, and he kept veering onto the shoulder where he would jounce along until he overcorrected to the centerline. Then, the process would repeat itself. Mustang had been biting his tongue in an effort not to say something nasty, at first figuratively, now literally as he tried not to scream.

Ed once again strayed off the edge of the road, and he looked over at Mustang, part guiltily, part defensively.

Mustang didn't say a word, couldn't have even if he'd wanted to. Now, he felt a little bad for yelling at Ed earlier. It really wasn't Ed's fault that he was in this situation, and destroying his confidence wasn't about to help either of them. He half-wanted to apologize, but he couldn't think of a good way to start. And there was no way it would get through to Ed anyway. He's almost as stubborn as I am, Mustang thought with a small flicker of pride. It disappeared as Ed found the road again, and the resulting bump sent a wave of nausea through him. He waited for it to subside, but it didn't.

"Pull over," he said, trying not to sound panicked.

Ed looked over with a concerned expression, and very carefully began to decelerate. "Why?"

"I think I'm about to throw up."

Ed frowned. "That's the least of our worries. Roll down a window."

"I am not throwing up in my car. Pull over."

Ed shook his head. "I really think we should be concentrating on getting you to a hospital, not sitting on the side of the road."

"Do you know how expensive it is to clean this upholstery? Stop the car!"

Reluctantly, Ed did as he was asked. As soon as the car rolled to a stop, Mustang opened the door. He stepped out of the car, only to discover that his legs wouldn't hold him. He sank to his knees on the side of the road, closing his eyes as waves of pain and nausea rolled through him. His hands where they were braced on the ground were trembling.

Mustang began to vomit weakly onto the shoulder of the road. The movement made the pain in his side escalate to almost unbearable levels. He finished, then sat up and leaned his shoulder unsteadily against the outside of the car, trying to catch his breath, trying not to throw up again.

Mustang felt a hand on his shoulder, and he twisted around to see Ed there. Mustang was ready to snap at him before even knowing what the alchemist wanted, but then he saw that Ed's eyes were filled with genuine concern.

"You're really sick, aren't you?" Ed said. He sounded frightened. He sounded like a child.

"I'll be alright," Mustang said, pushing himself upright. However, his statement was undercut when his legs started to give way for the second time and Ed had to grab him to keep him from falling to his knees by the side of the car again. Ed managed to open the car door with one hand and guide Mustang into the passenger's seat with the other. Normally, Mustang would be mortified that Ed was seeing him like this, but now every breath was sending spikes of pain through his side and it was all he could do to stay conscious.

"I don't think this is food poisoning, Colonel," Mustang heard Ed say as he got back into the driver's seat. "This...it seems too serious for that."

Mustang would like to think that he was tougher than a simple bout of food poisoning, so he wanted to agree with Ed. He was in so much pain that he couldn't imagine that there wasn't something seriously wrong with him. He could barely even force himself to sit upright.

Ed turned the car back on, and all Mustang could think as the car jolted to life was Please hurry.

In his entire life, Ed didn't think he had ever seen anyone look as ill as the Colonel looked now. His face was ashen, and got grayer with every bump that the car jostled over. His eyes were glassy and sunken-looking, the circles beneath them dark as bruises. His breathing was rapid and extremely shallow, probably in an attempt to mitigate some of the pain. He was curled in the seat, leaning against the window, and Ed could only imagine it was because he lacked the strength to sit up.

Ed's attention was focused on Mustang, and he felt the car bounce as he drove onto the shoulder of the road again. Immediately, Ed shot a panicked glance at the Colonel. To his shock and horror, Mustang seemed to be in so much pain that a few helpless tears were leaking down his face. Ed's eyes widened. He had never seen the Colonel cry before, couldn't even imagine it. That made the whole situation feel abruptly much more serious, and Ed suddenly realized he was very much out of his depth. He wanted to ask Mustang if he was alright, if there was anything that Ed could do to help, but he didn't want his superior officer to realize that Ed had caught him crying. So instead, he forced his gaze back to the road and gently pressed on the accelerator. Even though he didn't feel comfortable going faster, he didn't know how much longer Mustang could last.

Ed guided the car along the road and did his best to ignore Mustang's whimpers of pain from the seat beside him. Eventually, his concern for Mustang's welfare outweighed his concern for his pride and he looked over at his superior once again. He was still twisted against the door, his eyelids fluttering, his face chalk white and stained with sweat and tears. Ed stared at him, feeling utterly helpless. He had absolutely no idea what he could do to help Mustang, and he wasn't sure that there was anything within his power at the moment. Nothing except keeping the car moving. At that, Ed looked back at the road and yelped as he realized he was entering a fairly sharp turn.

He stomped on the brake, missed, and hit the accelerator. He skidded into the turn with increasing speed, swinging wide into the center of the road. Beside him, Mustang screamed as the car shook.

"I'm sorry!" Ed shouted as he muscled the car back under control. "I'm so sorry, Colonel!"

There was no response from Mustang, and once Ed felt confident that the car wasn't going to escape him once again, he turned and glanced at him.

"Colonel?"

Mustang's eyes didn't even flicker. Ed's heart jumped into his mouth and he began to slow down.

"Please don't be dead," he muttered, and stopped the car. "Colonel?"

He shook the Colonel's shoulder, and was rewarded with a weak groan.

"Ohthankgod," he said, breathing a deep sigh of relief. "Colonel, can you answer me? Please?"

He tried to get Mustang to respond a few more times, but the Colonel was well and truly out of it. Eventually, Ed realized that he wasn't going to wake up any time soon. The rest of this is all on me. Even the Colonel's angrily muttered instructions had been better than nothing, and Ed wasn't sure how to approach driving the car on his own. He wasn't sure that he could do it.

At least they were back in Central. It shouldn't be far to the hospital, no more than a few more minutes, even at Ed's snail's pace. He...he could do this. He had to.

Ed carefully guided the car back onto the road, trying to go as smoothly as he possibly could to avoid jostling the Colonel. Ed's heart was beating hard and fast in his chest. He had been through a hundred battles, seen more carnage than most people twice his age. But still, he wasn't sure that he had ever been this scared.

The next few minutes went by in a blur of fear. Ed was using all his concentration to avoid hitting anything, and he couldn't look over at the Colonel. After a little while, Ed couldn't even hear his breathing anymore. If Mustang was dead….

No. Ed wouldn't even think about that.

Finally, the hospital appeared on Ed's right. He threw on his indicator and turned tightly into the hospital parking lot, gasping with relief that he had actually made it. He glanced quickly over at the Colonel, who was a faint grayish color, and prayed that he had been fast enough, that he wasn't too late.

And then Ed heard a sickening crunch and was thrown forward.

He looked up and realized that while he'd been focused on Mustang, he'd accidentally allowed the car to plow right into a pole. He quickly threw the car into reverse and backed up a few feet. Even from here, he could see that the impact had dented the pole. He didn't even want to think about what it had done to Mustang's precious car.

"Colonel," Ed whispered, voice tight with panic, "when you wake up, please don't kill me."

But he didn't have time to worry about the Colonel's car right now, not when the Colonel himself was still slumped unconscious on the seat. Ed forced himself out of the car and around to Mustang's side. As soon as he opened the passenger side door, Mustang started to slide out of the car. Ed caught him and stumbled with the weight, then draped Mustang's arm across his shoulders and began dragging him toward the doors of the hospital. Mustang's eyelids fluttered, and he groaned slightly.

"Just hold on, Colonel," Ed told him, struggling to support the taller man. Mustang moaned and his eyes slid closed again. Ed gritted his teeth and kept moving.

The receptionist at the desk was pretty, blonde, and infuriating. "I'm sorry, but you can't see your friend. He's still in surgery."

"He's not my friend," Ed muttered, then decided that wasn't the argument he wanted to have. "At least tell me what's wrong with him then."

The woman rustled a few papers and smiled vacantly. "I can't give out information to non-relatives," she said.

Ed frowned. "I'm a State Alchemist," he tried. She looked at him skeptically, and he felt the anger he'd been holding in all day bubble to the surface. He did his best to shove it down and held out the pocket watch, dangling it in front of her face.

"The man I brought in is my-" Ed choked on the words "superior officer" and changed his mind, "also a State Alchemist. Just…tell me what's going on, please? His…his men are gonna want to know."

The receptionist rustled some more, then sighed and consulted her clipboard. "It's an emergency appendectomy." She smiled at him. "He'll be fine."

Ed thanked her and sat down in the waiting room, but there really wasn't anything he could do. Then, he remembered the dent in Mustang's car. Time for a little well-placed alchemy. He got to his feet and wandered outside.

The car was pretty bad. The whole front was buckled around the pole's impact point, and the grille had almost completely fallen off. Ed rubbed his hands together and considered the damage. He should be able fix it easily enough….

He placed his hands against the car and there was a flash of blue light. When it disappeared, he examined his handiwork with pleasure. The skull hood ornament is really a good touch, he thought. It had been a nice enough car before, but now it would be even better. Part of him wondered if he should have put the car back the exact same way that it was before, but it had been kind of boring like that and he thought Mustang might appreciate the change.

Once Ed had finished up with the car, he went back inside the hospital. As soon as he opened the doors, the blonde receptionist from before looked up. "Hey," she said. "Your friend...he's waking up now. You can go in and see him if you want."

Ed's chest tightened with surprise. As much as he had wanted to know what was wrong with Mustang, to make sure he would be alright, he wasn't exactly sure that he wanted to see him. Seeing his superior officer bent over and crying with pain had been a strange and uncomfortable experience, one that he didn't particularly want to think about and was sure that he didn't want to repeat. Having a conversation with the semi-conscious Colonel as he came out from under the anesthesia sounded nerve-racking. Ed would rather just pop in to confirm that the Colonel was alright and leave.

But he wasn't sure how to do that without seeming cruel, and he was pretty certain that no one else had arrived to take care of the Colonel yet anyway. So he took a deep, steadying breath and followed a young nurse down a long hallway, and eventually into a room on the right. His heart was pounding as he tried frantically to figure out what he was going to say.

Mustang wasn't sitting up yet when Ed came in. His eyes were still closed, his face pale and ill-looking, but at least his breathing was deeper and more even, and his face wasn't twisted in pain. When he heard the door shut behind Ed, he slowly opened his eyes. He started to sit up, but gasped and caught himself in pain, clutching at his side.

"Colonel!" Ed said quickly, taking a few steps closer. "Are you alright?"

Mustang nodded weakly, still holding his side.

"Are...are you in a lot of pain?"

"Not as much as before," the Colonel said. His voice was a little slurred from whatever drugs they had given him. He seemed aware of his surroundings, but his eyes weren't quite focused on Ed.

Ed looked awkwardly down at the stretch of floor between his feet and the Colonel's bed. "I'm...I'm glad you're alright. I wasn't sure…."

"You did a good job, Fullmetal," Mustang said, his voice soft.

A faint smile twisted Ed's face. "Come on, Colonel, I know that's not true. You just told me that I was terrible. And I am sorry, I wasn't trying to make it worse…."

Mustang shook his head faintly. "I'm being serious, Ed. You did a really good job. If you hadn't managed to drive me to the hospital, I...it would have been bad. Thank you." He paused for a second. Ed thought he might be in pain. "I'm proud of you, Fullmetal."

Ed's eyes widened slightly as he realized the Colonel was being sincere. He could count on one hand all the times that Mustang had ever praised him. It was not something that he handed out lightly.

"Well thanks, Colonel. And you're not gonna take that back once you're not all drugged up, right?"

The Colonel smiled weakly and shook his head. "I'm not going to take it back, you really did do well…."

"Alright, good, because I did crash your car right at the end…."

Mustang tried to sit up again and gasped with pain. "You...what did you just say?"

"I might have crashed your car right at the end, but I did fix it with alchemy. I put it back almost the way that it was before…."

The Colonel leaned back on his bed and groaned.