Tomas had said the chances of splenic rupture were low, but every hour or so an attendant would stop by his room. They would check his belly for discoloration and take his blood pressure each time.

"It's a little high, but that's to be expected with his fever," commented one of the nurses as she uncuffed the sphygmomanometer from around Edward's arm. "It's better than dropping."

"What would it mean if it dropped?" Alphonse piped up from the foot of the cot, where he was reading the book on pox diseases the staff had lent him.

"It would be an indication of internal bleeding. But don't worry, if you're going to start hemorrhaging, this is the best place to do it. Caught early, it's nothing a transfusion and a few stitches can't fix."

Ed's blood pressure did not drop throughout the night. He took the antibiotic and fever-reducer the doctor had prescribed with his dinner, which had been little more than a small bowl of yogurt; his hunger had yet to return. They woke him during the night for a second dose.

When morning came, Alphonse was glad he'd memorized the location of the trash bin.

He didn't need to know his brother's mannerisms to interpret the meaning behind Ed scrambling awake, his face a gray-green color and his mouth drawn tight.

"Nausea is normal with typhus," the doctor said as he gave a sweaty and panting Edward an encouraging pat on the back. "But we should probably wait on breakfast and pills."

At the word "breakfast", any pallor Ed had gotten back into his face receded and he stuck his face into the bin that Alphonse was holding for him. The doctor looked away as the boy made a noise that sounded like a cat trying to swallow a frog whole, more for his patient's privacy than out of disgust. "Definitely wait on those."

XXX

It wasn't until the middle of that afternoon that the doctor was satisfied Ed's spleen had shrunk to a secure size. Edward had been insulted when they had brought in the wheelchair to escort him to the lobby.

"I can walk on my own just fine!"

He flopped off of the hospital cot and made a show of walking to the threshold.

He took about six independent steps before he decided that the wheelchair didn't look too bad after all. Ed plopped himself down in the seat and glared at the nurse's benign smile.

"But I won't. 'Cause I don't want to."

"Well, that explains a lot," Alphonse muttered to himself.

Ed turned his scowl on his brother.

"What did you say?!"

"Nothing, nothing. Just thinking about girls."

He couldn't not giggle at Edward's horror-stricken face.

Ed was further disgruntled when Colonel Mustang met them at the hospital doors.

"Go away, bastard, I don't need you."

Roy grinned as if he'd been hoping the boy would say that.

"Okay, then. You can walk back to the dorms. Come along, Lieutenant, we're leaving."

"Yes, sir."

Edward forced himself out of the wheelchair and started walking, his back straight and his head held high.

He made it to four steps this time.

"Well, go on, laugh at me," he mumbled into his hand. He'd gotten himself comfortable sitting in the back seat of the car with his elbow against the window and his chin on his palm.

No one said anything.

"I told you to laugh!"

"There's nothing to laugh at, Fullmetal. Certainly not you. Why, finding humor in a creature as pathetic as you would be just cruel – oof!"

Ed had kicked the back of Roy's seat with his metal foot.

Then he laughed.

And Roy turned around his seat, black eyes bright with murder.

"Laugh all you want. We'll see who's the joke soon enough."

XXX

Ed strode into the office, his brother behind him, the very picture of youthful health. He still had one or two spots on his stomach, but he had woken that morning without a fever and had eaten a full breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice; and after he'd requested seconds, Alphonse decided he had recovered enough to appear in public.

Roy looked up as his office door was kicked in by an automail leg.

"Ah, Olly. I see you're feeling better."

"You bet your ass I – wait, what did you call me?"

Mustang didn't answer because his chance to do so was interrupted by Havoc scampering into the room and slapping Edward on the shoulder.

"Tag! You're it!"

He charged out the door.

Ed and Al stared after him.

"What in the fresh hell – "

"Oh? You're not going to give chase?" Mustang tilted his head to the side in mock curiosity. "You should call him back. He has work to do, and he's not going to get it done waiting for you to find him."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, colonel, this seems awfully mean," Alphonse spoke up.

Ed turned to him.

"Do you know what's going on?"

Al's shoulders pinched together, something he always did when he was being questioned on a topic he didn't want to talk about.

"Oh… well, you see, Brother… when you were in the hospital – when the colonel and Miss Hawkeye first brought you in, I mean – you kind of… shouted."

Edward's eyes instantly rounded terror.

"I did?! What did I say?! Did I say anything about – "

"No, no. No one knows anything. It's just that… I guess you were trying to get the doctors to leave you alone. Or maybe you thought they were playing a game?"

"What did I say?! Please, Al, tell me."

"Olly, Olly, oxen free!"

Mustang may have looked ridiculous suddenly standing up at his desk and hollering a children's watchword, but it was worth it to see Fullmetal's face melt into pure mortification. Roy collapsed into painful-sounding cackling.

"I didn't."

"You did, Brother."

"I didn't!"

"Yes, you did."

"Wait… so when I woke up and that kid was messing with my drip and he called me 'Mr. Olly'…"

"I'm sorry, Brother."

"No! God, no!" He buried his face in his hands.

"It's all right, Brother. The hospital staff thought it was cute."

Mustang's pealing was bordering screaming.

"That's even worse! I'm not cute!"

"Not you. What you said."

"That doesn't change anything!"

"Sir, while I appreciate that you're enjoying yourself, may I remind you that those forms are due in two days? And Havoc – "

Riza strolled into the office, her strides purposeful and calculated as always, and stopped in surprise at the sight of two red-faced boys – one from breathlessness, the other from humiliation. "Edward? Are you all right?"

"He's fine, Lieutenant, he's just – "

"He's it! You'd better start running!" Roy dissolved into exhausted giggling.

Hawkeye raised a brow.

"That's what Havoc told me. I passed him running down the hall." After another fifteen seconds of thinking, the memory struck her. "Sir, if you and Havoc are mocking the major about his previous condition – "

"It's fine, Lieutenant." The blush had receded from Edward's face, though the skin of his neck was still a bright cherry red.

All eyes turned to him.

Even Roy silenced so as to give him his full attention.

"Edward – "

"It's fine, Lieutenant. Because you're wrong. You're all wrong."

Ed lifted his gaze, his eyes filled with new direction.

Then, before anyone could react, he launched himself forward and thumped his metal fist into the colonel's chest, earning him a shocked oomf!

"Because Mustang's it!"

And he dashed out the open door.

"EVERYONE RUN! THE BASTARD'S IT! HE'S COMING!"

There was the scraping of chairs against the floor and confused murmuring. Those who were in on the "Olly Alchemist" joke made quick work of racing out of the outer office in search of a hiding place.

Alphonse glanced at Roy's dumbfounded expression. The man was wondering how his ultimate prank had backfired so horribly.

"Sorry, Colonel. But you know how it goes." He lumbered into a clomping jog, calling, "Catch me if you can!" in his tolling voice.

The department was completely abandoned, save for Roy and Riza. After a moment of stunned quiet, this fact occurred to the colonel. A sly grin snaked its way over his mouth, and when his lieutenant met his eye, the foxy attitude radiating from him intensified. She studied his suggestive posture, which she met with cool indifference.

"Don't even think about it."

And she turned on her heel and stalked off, out of sight.

Mustang sat in seclusion for about five minutes, giving his subordinates a healthy head start, then shrugged. He wriggled out of his uniform coat and sprinted out of the office.

"Ready or not, here I come!"

And that's the eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeend!

I'm thinking about writing a one-shot about this office-wide game of hide-and-go-seek tag, but any pleasure writing is going to have to wait unitl the semester is over. 3 weeks left... pray for me. I don't think I can do this.