The only thing that Ed could think about was the cold. His teeth were chattering, and even though he was wrapped in one of Hughes' blankets, he was still freezing. He felt...numb. He could barely even feel the wound in his side, and despite the respite it provided from the constant pain, he knew it was a bad sign. Where did Hughes and the Colonel go?

The two men had been gone for what seemed like quite a while, far longer than it should have taken them to fiddle with a few switches. Why hadn't they come back? Ed didn't want to be any more trouble, but he couldn't feel the fingers on his left hand.

With a grunt of effort, he forced himself up from the couch, almost welcoming the momentary pain in his side. At least he could still feel something. He managed a few steps before he had to lean on the wall, breathing hard.

As he pushed himself upright, he glanced out the window and groaned. He was looking out across the city, but all he could see was the uniform white of the fallen snow. The power's out all over, he thought. They're not going to be able to change anything even if they mess with the fuse box for hours. Why hadn't they realized that? They were adults, right? Weren't they supposed to be smart?

Sighing, he tried to take another step. But the cold was making his legs unsteady, and he was shaking with blood loss. His metal leg started to give way beneath him, so stiff he could barely move it. He reached for the wall, but his vision was blurring in and out and he missed. As if in slow motion, he crumpled to the ground.

Ed had a vague sense that he needed to get to the basement, so he could tell the dumbasses downstairs that they weren't going to bring the power back on. They had to keep him warm some other way. He hated asking for help, but he simply wasn't sure how much longer he could take this. His hand was so cold that it ached, and the places where the automail connected to his skin felt like ice. He was having a hard time breathing.

He wrapped a trembling hand around Hughes' too-big shirt and drew it tighter around himself. It didn't help much. He kept shivering helplessly, and he couldn't seem to force his legs to take his weight again. He tried breathing on his hand a little, hoping maybe he could warm it up. That didn't work either. The air inside his lungs was too cold.

Black spots were starting to dance in front of Ed's eyes. He was afraid that if Hughes and Mustang were down there too much longer, when they came back up he would be dead. He couldn't stand, and he knew there was no way he could make it down the stairs. But he hoped that maybe he'd be able to crawl to the top and then shout down to them. He thought maybe he could manage that without blacking out.

Laboriously, Ed pushed himself to his hands and knees. He made it another couple feet before his metal arm stopped bending, and then his real arm gave way too. Helplessly, he let his body fold to the ground. His eyes closed. He curled himself into the smallest ball he could, trying to trap in any heat that was left in his core. He was shaking so badly it hurt and his muscles were locked in place. All he could do was hope that Mustang and Hughes would find him.

"It's no use," Hughes said finally, throwing his hands up and turning away from the fuse box. "If we haven't figured it out by now, we're never going to."

Mustang scowled at the obstinate hunk of metal. "I think we're close."

Hughes was already heading up the stairs. "Come on, Roy, we need to check on Ed. He's probably freezing by now…."

Reluctantly, Mustang followed. He was only about halfway up when he heard a cry of distress from Hughes, and he ran up the remainder of the staircase to join him.

He found his friend kneeling over Fullmetal, who was curled into a ball at the end of the hallway. Ed's eyes were closed, sunken into his ashy face. The only color in his skin was the blue around his lips. Mustang reflexively shivered in sympathy.

"Is he…breathing?" he asked. The young alchemist looked so cold that Mustang couldn't believe he was still alive. But the alternative was far too horrible to contemplate.

"Yeah, but not much," Hughes said briefly, and swept Ed into his arms. Ed mumbled something unintelligible, and Mustang felt a rush of relief. Hughes walked into the living room, still cradling the kid, and sat down on the sofa. He wrapped the blanket he found there around Ed, then picked him up again, trying to give the kid as much of his own body heat as he could.

"...so cold," Ed muttered. Mustang gritted his teeth, angry at himself for being unable to master something as simple as a fuse box. He should have been able to figure it out.

"I'm sorry, Fullmetal," he said. "We couldn't get the power back on."

Ed shivered in Hughes' arms and shook his head. "That's 'cause...power's out all over the city…."

Mustang frowned. The kid was right, he couldn't see the lights from any other buildings. But what did that have to do with anything?

Hughes rubbed his hands gently over Ed's arm, trying to warm it. "What do you mean, Ed?"

"...the central power plant is out," Ed said, somehow managing to sound exasperated even while he could barely speak.

Hughes shook his head. "I can't believe we didn't realize that! Ed, I'm so sorry. We shouldn't have left you alone for so long, especially not for something so stupid…."

"I'm sure with a little more time, I could figure something out," Mustang said confidently. He would not be vanquished by a mere fuse box. Ed twisted around to glare at him.

"That is not how electricity works, Colonel," Ed said shortly. In any other situation, Mustang probably would have snapped back at the kid, but there was no way he could now, not when Ed was greyish with cold, trembling in Hughes' arms. And anyway, Hughes was looking at Mustang in a way that made him suspect that Ed might be right about the fuse box after all, not that that was ever something he'd be willing to admit.

"Roy," Hughes said, before Mustang had a chance to say anything more one way or the other. "Can you please use your alchemy to start a fire?"

Mustang nodded. This, at least, was something he felt confident that he could do. "Where are your matches?" he said.

"What?"

"Your matches. Or a lighter, I suppose. I just need something to create the spark with, since my gloves got soaked, and then I'll be able to make the fire."

"I don't have anything like that," Hughes said slowly. "We...we normally just rely on the heat from the power…."

A wave of helplessness washed over Mustang. All he needed to do was make a fire, and he would be able to save Ed, he would be able to warm up both Hughes and himself. But he couldn't even do that. All he could do was watch the kid shiver.

Ed wasn't entirely sure what was going on anymore. He had a pretty clear memory of trying to crawl for the stairs, he had wanted Mustang and Hughes to come up and do...something. Help him, he was pretty sure. And then they had, they must have, because he was tucked up against Hughes' chest, locked in a shivering ball. He had a vague memory of a conversation he'd had with Mustang, but even now, less than fifteen minutes later, he couldn't be entirely sure what it had been about.

In any other situation, Ed would be mortified to be held like this. But now, it wasn't even something he was fully aware of. His limbs were tensed so hard with cold that he didn't think he would be able to move them even if he wanted to. His hands were trembling so badly that they hardly felt like they were attached to him anymore. His breathing had slowed way down, but there was nothing he could do about it

Above him, Mustang and Hughes were having an important sounding conversation that he was too delirious to pay attention to. He caught the words automail, fire, death, and breathing. He had a suspicion that they were talking about him, but he couldn't seem to string the pieces together. Everything around him was moving very slowly. Or maybe it was just him….

He knew that something was very wrong, but that was seeming less and less important as his breathing slowed and his body shook. He wasn't even as cold anymore, he was just so tired….

Something stirred in the back of his mind, a tiny voice that he could barely hear. What was it saying? Ed couldn't focus on it, he was too cold, too weak, too exhausted. And within a minute, he couldn't remember the voice at all. The nagging doubt subsided into the frozen expanse of his thoughts, and he closed his eyes and shivered in Hughes' arms.

Mustang stalked around Hughes' apartment, snatching up random metal objects and clattering them against every available surface, desperately trying to create a spark. If I can just start a fire….

"Roy, what are you doing?" Hughes called from the other room as Mustang dragged a poker across the tiles on the kitchen floor. "Why do you have my poker?"

"I'm trying to get a spark," Mustang yelled back, continuing to scrape the poker. No luck.

"Put that down and get in here!" Hughes shouted. "That's not helping anything!"

Mustang knew he was right, but he couldn't just sit by and watch Ed freeze to death. Angrily, he threw the poker down and stomped back into the living room. Hughes looked up from his place on the couch, Ed almost completely concealed in his arms.

"Are you sure your gloves won't work?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Mustang snapped, knowing that this situation wasn't Hughes' fault, knowing that they'd be in a far worse fix without him, but still unable to hold himself back. "If you just had some goddamn matches! What kind of household doesn't have matches?!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Flame Alchemist," Hughes growled, now starting to shiver himself. "You're right, I should have anticipated a power outage and unreliable alchemy. My mistake."

Mustang winced. Every slow, shallow breath Ed drew was reminding him just how helpless he was. He could solve all of this if he could just do the one thing that set him apart. Finally, there was something he could do to help, and he couldn't get a spark.

Hughes shook his head. "S-sorry, Roy. This isn't your fault."

Mustang didn't answer. The little of Ed's skin that he could see looked waxy and thin, like a doll's. His breathing was audibly slower. He was dying, and Mustang couldn't stop himself from thinking that he'd failed him somehow.

"R-r-roy?"

Mustang looked up. Hughes was shivering now too, not nearly as pale as Ed, but still a shade or two off of normal.

"C-c-can you t-take him? I-" He didn't need to finish the sentence. Mustang was already moving. At least he could do something now. He sat down next to Hughes and carefully pulled Ed into his own lap.

He gasped slightly as he felt the chill deep in the young alchemist's bones. Ed was so cold his automail was almost painful to the touch, even through the blankets surrounding his small body. Even his skin felt like ice, colder than the frigid air surrounding them. Mustang pulled Ed tighter against his chest. His automail arm dug awkwardly into Mustang's shoulder. But Mustang could ignore that. All that mattered was that the kid retained enough heat to keep breathing.

After a few moments, Ed's eyelids fluttered. "What's...what's happening?" he asked, voice weak and shaky. Almost involuntarily, he started trying to extract himself from Mustang's arms, and Mustang had to pin Ed tightly to his chest for a few seconds before he stopped struggling.

Before Mustang had formulated any sort of a response, Hughes was there, kneeling on the ground so he was eye-level with Ed. Ed's eyes were a little unfocused, but at least Mustang thought that he recognized both him and Hughes.

"How do you feel?" Hughes asked him. He didn't respond for a long few seconds. "Ed?"

"Cold," he finally muttered.

Hughes nodded solemnly. "Your automail is bringing your core body temperature down, and the stab wound isn't helping. Your body doesn't have enough extra energy to expend on heating itself. Can you feel your fingers?"

Ed visibly considered for a moment, and then shook his head, sparks of panic in his eyes. Carefully, Hughes extracted Ed's real hand from inside the blanket and held it in both of his for a few moments, then started trying to massage some warmth back into the fingers. Ed watched all these proceedings with a sort of dull disinterest. Mustang knew that his lack of a struggle, more than anything else, meant he was really in danger.

Ed's eyes closed again soon after that. Mustang continued to hold him cradled against his chest, trying to keep warmth in his tiny body, and Hughes continued to try to work feeling back into Ed's hand and arm. But after a little while, Mustang found that he too was shivering. The direct contact with the automail was bringing his body temperature down the same way it was dropping Ed's, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep warming the kid.

"Roy," Hughes asked abruptly, voice a little breathless with the cold. "If we brought in some snow from outside, could you use alchemy to heat it up?"

"I told you, I need a spark and we don't have a way to make one…."

"No," Hughes said. "Not flame alchemy, just a normal transmutation circle."

Mustang blinked. He rarely ever thought about any kind of alchemy that wasn't flame, to be completely honest, but this sounded like it might work. It wasn't even a particularly difficult transmutation.

He nodded slowly. "That could work actually...here, take Fullmetal. I'll go get some snow…."

Hughes shook his head. "No, I'll get it, you stay here with Ed. You should save your energy or something, right?" Without any more discussion, he disappeared into the kitchen, emerging with a few pots. Then, he was outside in the snow.

Mustang held Ed close and waited for Hughes to return, angry at himself for not realizing that he could transmute snow into water. He'd been so focused on losing his fire, he hadn't been able to think of anything else. It had taken someone who wasn't even an alchemist to remind him of his own craft. He supposed he should be grateful. At least someone had able to do what he couldn't. And now, he'd be able to do…something.

Not a moment too soon. Ed wasn't shivering anymore, but Mustang didn't think that was because he was any warmer. He'd been holding the kid for a while, and as far as he could tell, the young alchemist was just as cold as he'd been when Hughes had shoved him into Mustang's arms. At first, he'd tried looking at Ed's face, desperately attempting to find a bit of color, but he'd abandoned the effort. Seeing how pale Ed was, his closed eyes sunk deep into his almost greyish face - it was just too difficult. It only reminded Mustang how helpless they were.

Hughes banged back into the apartment and set down his pots, heaped high with snow. "Okay, Roy. Do your thing."

Mustang unclenched his arms from around Ed and set him down on the couch. Ed blinked, once, but he didn't speak, and Mustang didn't think he'd even registered the movement. Hughes took his place next to Ed, and Mustang knelt on the ground next to the pots. Using the snow, he drew a quick transmutation circle, then paused.

Usually, this sort of transmutation was easy. All he had to do was draw heat energy from his surroundings and transfer it into the snow. The snow would melt, the water would heat. Simple.

But it wasn't so simple when there was a near-frozen kid on the couch. The air was so cold already, Mustang wasn't sure how much heat energy it had to offer. Besides, stealing heat from Ed's surroundings just to boil water to warm him up seemed counterintuitive. Once again, Mustang wished he could get a spark, just a small spark…. But if he could get a spark, then he wouldn't need to boil the water in the first place.

Think, he ordered himself. You have to be able to get heat from somewhere. He racked his brain for something, anything, that would help him.

What was that Master Hawkeye said? Something about how we, too, are part of the flow of all things, a source-

Mustang's head snapped up. Of course, it was so obvious now that he couldn't believe he'd missed it before. What had he been doing for almost an hour? He'd been using himself as a source of heat. It shouldn't be that hard to add alchemy to that basic idea.

With a deep breath, he placed his hands on the circle and concentrated on himself, focusing on the blood pulsing in his veins and the heat rising from his skin. Closing his eyes, he took that energy and pushed it into the snow with all the strength that he had left. Within a few seconds, steam was curling faintly off the surface of the water.

Mustang sat back on his heels. The effort of putting heat into the water had left him feeling weak, and he was trembling much worse than before. He knotted his hands and drew them into his chest, hoping to get some warmth back into them. Even with the warm water, he wouldn't be able to help Ed if he couldn't move his fingers.

"Alright," Mustang said. "It's done. Can you...can you bring him over here?"

Hughes didn't respond. A chill of fear shot through Mustang, and he turned back to the sofa. Ed was still on Hughes' lap, but he wasn't curled up anymore. Hughes had laid him out mostly straight, and was frantically trying to find a pulse in the kid's wrist. Hughes looked up at Mustang with wide, panicked eyes.

"No," Mustang murmured, staring at Ed's still, pale body. "No."

"Roy, I can't find his heartbeat…." Hughes whispered, voice hoarse with cold.

Mustang was already moving by that point. He grabbed Ed's shoulders and shook him, but he remained completely limp. His eyelids didn't even flicker. His skin was cold as ice against Mustang's hands. He didn't feel like a living thing.

"Just bring the water over, maybe we can still fix it-" Hughes said helplessly.

Mustang shook his head. If the kid was going to survive, he needed more warming than just a little hot water could provide. And Mustang had an idea, a crazy idea that he wasn't entirely sure would work. But he had to try. They were fresh out of options, and without some serious heat, Ed was certainly going to die.

Assuming, of course, that he wasn't already dead.

Mustang drew another transmutation circle, and Hughes watched him silently. Mustang put one hand on the transmutation circle and the other on Ed's still chest. He concentrated on the heat flowing through his body, the same way he had when he'd melted the snow. This couldn't be all that different. He just needed to add warmth to Ed, just as he'd done to the water. It would just take...more heat.

The transmutation circle started to glow, and Mustang felt the heat start to leach out of his own body and into Ed's. Finally, he felt Ed's chest rise under his hand, and he pulled himself away, gasping with relief.

Immediately, Mustang felt his legs give way, and he sank down to his knees. He was trembling as badly now as the kid had been an hour ago, but without the automail and the stab wound he knew he could survive it. He drew in a few shuddering breaths.

"He's breathing again," Mustang heard Hughes say above him, voice tight with relief. "Are you alright?"

Mustang nodded. He felt cold and a little ill, but he knew he would recover. As long as the kid had enough body heat to stay alive, that was all that mattered. And he could hear Ed breathing now; the sound of the air being pulled into the kid's lungs almost made Mustang forget the cold that encompassed him. It certainly made it more bearable.

Still, he didn't protest when Hughes wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and helped him make his way to the couch. Exhausted, he slumped down on the cushions and watched with relief as some color began to slowly seep back into Ed's face.

Ed blinked, and above him, Hughes' face blurred in and out of focus. What...Ed only had a vague idea of the past few hours; all that he could clearly remember was the crippling cold. The cold that had numbed his brain along with his body, the cold that Ed had been sure was going to kill him. He blinked again, and he saw Hughes' face light up in sudden relief.

"Roy! I think he's awake!"

"Did…did the power come back on?" Ed muttered weakly. But the lights were still off, and he didn't feel that much warmer. The air was still freezing and his automail was still burning his exposed skin. But something must have happened…. And then he turned his head to the side and saw the transmutation circle, saw Mustang blue-lipped and shivering behind Hughes, and he knew why he was still breathing.

"...Colonel?"

Mustang shook his head stiffly. "D-d-don't use up your energy, Fullmetal. We have no way of knowing when the power will come back on."

He was right, and Ed was secretly relieved to be given the excuse to stay silent. Every word was a challenge, his face and lips were so numb. Besides, he had no idea what to say. He wasn't good at giving thanks at the best of times, and "thank you" didn't seem like enough for what the Colonel had done anyways. So he didn't argue, he just wrapped his stiff fingers around Hughes' blankets and tried to retain the heat he'd been given.

He felt Hughes' arms encircle him once again, and he wanted to struggle, wanted to throw them off, but he was far too afraid of what would happen. He never wanted to feel himself slipping away like he had a few hours before. He had been only partially aware of his danger, knowing something was wrong but being unable to save himself. There wasn't much he could do now, aside from lie there in Hughes' arms. He just had to try to keep awake and alert, try to outlast the cold long enough for the power to return.

Mustang watched his breath crystallize in the air in front of him and fought against the urge to close his eyes. It had been a long, sleepless night, for both him and Hughes. But he couldn't help Ed if he was asleep. The kid was breathing alright now, even appeared to be awake, but Mustang knew that could change. And he couldn't let Ed get so near the edge again. What if he'd gone too far for Mustang to bring him back?

But for all that, Mustang wasn't sure how much more of his own heat he could give. That last transfer had really tired him out, and he could still feel the chill deep in his bones. And it wasn't like the room was getting any warmer. But as he looked over at Ed, no longer greyish but still an alarming shade of bluish-white, he knew he'd do whatever was necessary to keep the kid breathing.

"He really needs fluids," Hughes murmured, his voice shaking Mustang upright. "Roy, are you alright to stand yet? Do you think you could make him some tea?"

Mustang nodded, and got somewhat unsteadily to his feet. He went into the kitchen, and rummaged through the cabinets until he managed to locate a mug and a box of tea.

"Get some dishtowels while you're in there too," he heard Hughes call from the other room, and he did as he was told and returned with the supplies.

Hughes carefully extracted himself from Ed and laid the kid down on the sofa, where he quickly curled himself into a small ball. "What are you doing?" Mustang said. "He's still freezing."

"I know," Hughes said, taking the towels from Mustang. "I'm trying to warm him up."

Mustang watched as Hughes soaked the towels in the warm water. Then he pulled Ed's shirt off of his metal shoulder and put the warm cloths at the place where the automail intersected with his skin. This seemed to ease Ed's breathing almost immediately, and Mustang watched as the kid visibly relaxed into the warmth.

"Does that feel a little better, Ed?" Hughes asked. Ed nodded. His eyes were still closed, but at least he wasn't unconscious anymore.

"Can you get him some tea?" Hughes asked Mustang, easing Ed onto his lap again. Mustang put the tea bag into the mug with some warm water, and then stood to give the tea to Ed. Ed opened his eyes again when he heard Mustang stand, and Mustang felt some of the tension that he'd been carrying since Ed's heartbeat had faded melt away a little.

Hughes helped Ed into a more upright position. The kid winced when Hughes accidentally brushed against the wound in Ed's chest, but Mustang knew that at least that meant some of the feeling was coming back to him. Ed reached a hand out to take the mug from Mustang, but it was trembling so badly that Mustang knew there was no way he'd be able to hold it properly, especially when he seemed unable to move his automail. Ed wrapped his fingers around the cup, and then Mustang wrapped his hands around Ed's. He helped Ed take a few shaky sips of the tea, wincing a little when it touched his split lip. The fluids seemed to revive the kid even more. After only a few more minutes, he seemed strong enough to hold the cup on his own.

For the first time since he'd been unable to summon a spark, Mustang dared to feel a little hope. All they had to do was keep Ed awake, keep him breathing, keep him warm…Mustang could heat plenty more water with his own energy if he had to. Maybe Ed would be okay after all.

An hour later, the power came back on. There was a hiss as the heater kicked in, and the lights flickered back to life.

"Finally," Ed muttered, and Mustang was relieved to hear the note of indignation in his voice. Ed closed his eyes and relaxed against the couch, letting the heat lick some color back into his frozen cheeks. He yawned. "We're lucky we have heat - I'm surprised you didn't break something in that fuse box."

Hughes shrugged, looking sheepish. "We mostly just stared at it."

Ed cracked open one eye and stared incredulously at Hughes, then snickered quietly. Ordinarily, Mustang would have begrudged him the joke, but Ed's lips had just now begun to lose the bluish tinge that surrounded them, and Mustang could see him wince as his hand regained some feeling. He wasn't in any mood to squabble with the young alchemist, not when he was in this state.

Abruptly, Hughes stood and began to walk toward the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Mustang said sharply. He didn't want to be left alone with Ed; that seemed like too much responsibility.

"I need to make some calls about the serial killer. He can't have gotten too far with the blizzard...We should be able to take him in." Hughes retreated into the kitchen, and Mustang let him go reluctantly. Then he went back to staring uncomfortably at the kid.

It was a good two hours before Ed's cheeks were no longer ashen and he had stopped shivering violently. A good thing, too. Now that Ed had thawed out some, it was clear that his stab wound was paining him again. He'd risen to an upright position on the couch, but he was sitting there stiffly, clearly afraid to move much.

But he wasn't shaking with cold or pain, and he'd even managed to eat some soup that Hughes had warmed for him. And asked for more. Mustang was pretty sure that the young alchemist was through the worst of it. Excellent. There was something that he needed to address.

"Fullmetal."

Ed looked up, a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth. The Colonel sounded…odd. Ed wasn't sure what was wrong with him, maybe he was still tired out from the energy transfer?

Mustang cleared his throat and looked around awkwardly, everywhere but at Ed. "Are you...feeling better?"

Ed froze. This was completely uncharacteristic for the Colonel. First the heat alchemy, now this? He hated being in anyone's debt, much less the Colonel's. He always knew exactly how much you owed him, and he never hesitated to remind you. But...Mustang seemed to be genuinely concerned. Ed figured if he wasn't, he wouldn't have so much trouble getting the words out. Even now, he was staring determinedly at the ground midway between them, unwilling to meet Ed's eyes.

And Ed was feeling better. The stab wound in his side was throbbing angrily, but he'd rather be feeling something than nothing. The numbness had been infinitely scarier. So he nodded cautiously at the Colonel. "Yeah, I think I am."

It was like a visible weight had been removed from Mustang's shoulders. Ed watched as the Colonel's back straightened, his shoulders squared, and he drew himself up. He strode over to the couch where Ed was sitting, still holding his soup, and took a deep breath. Ed watched, truly unsure of what was coming.

If he'd had to guess, he would have been wrong.

"FULLMETAL! HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY THE ORDERS OF YOUR SUPERIOR OFFICER! NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU HADN'T IGNORED ME AND GONE AFTER THE SERIAL KILLER ON YOUR OWN! I DO NOT SPEAK JUST TO HEAR MYSELF TALK, I EXPECT YOU TO LISTEN!"

He yelled so loudly that Hughes came out of the kitchen, soup in hand, to see what all the fuss was about. Ed shot him a supplicating glance, but Hughes shook his head slowly and withdrew. As the Colonel continued to lecture at full volume, Ed closed his eyes and thought he would almost rather the power have stayed off.