I finished it!

I gotta be honest, I'm not sure I really like how this one turned out, but oh well.

It was uber fun to write though, and it wouldn't have taken so long if I hadn't gotten a sinus infection from one of my students and had a 101 degree fever for five days straight.

Then coronavirus happened and there's no working from home for special ed teachers... and preschool teachers...

I am so tired.

I'm gonna go get drunk with my sister now.

Someone pulled Edward away from his tower of pillows (and his breakfast beneath) and Mustang's nerveless fingers slipped from his shoulder. The man grunted in protest but settled for the boy's arm. The nurse reached to take his arm away but the doctor stopped her with a clipped, "No."

"Is there a reason why he's hanging onto him like that?"

"Pelznickel" held Ed upright with a hand at the base of his neck. The boy's eyes were closed, his chin against his chest, and was swaying dangerously. Roy had returned to resting his forehead on the bed.

"Almost lost him earlier. Doesn't want to lose him again." The doctor frowned as he studied the heat beneath his hand. He reached with his other arm to press his free hand against the exposed top of Roy's spine and his frowned deepened. "That and the fever's making him ride shotgun. Unhook them, will you, Peggy? I think they've run dry."

Edward opened his eyes a fraction when a cold palm touched his back, then yelped at the odd sensation of the needle being pulled from his numb skin. Mustang made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snarl, which also quickly turned to a squeak as he was removed from the tubing.

"Do we want to take the samples to the lab?" Peggy asked as she pressed squares of bandages to beads of blood growing on the patients' skin.

"Pelznickel" shook his head, his nose scrunching above his beard.

"They ain't gonna find anything we ain't already doin' anything about. God knows what these two drank, and I don't figure I wanna know."

With that, the doctor promptly slid his arms under and around his smaller charge and lifted him with the gentleness of a grandfather. Roy whined at Ed's disappearance and scrabbled to find him again, which he did fairly quickly considering "Pelznickel" waited patiently for him to do so. With one arm held by the nurse and the other holding his subordinate's forearm, the Flame Alchemist was shepherded to the other bed, where he crawled into the blankets with Peggy's help and "Pelznickel" lowered Fullmetal beside him.

They did not seem to be aware that they were in the same bed.

They did not even seem to be aware they were in a hospital.

They were certainly not aware of the doctor worriedly pressing a thermometer under their arms or his quiet request for the nurse to bring a larger blanket.

"One of the large quilted ones from the guild, if you wouldn't mind." Then he smiled. "Get one of 'em my wife made."

XXX

Alphonse was, unfortunately, quite good at filling out medical forms on behalf of his brother. He'd had a lot of practice. So much so, that he found himself finished before he expected to be. He sighed to himself and placed the paperwork and pen on the receptionist's desk, a focused woman who did not look up at his approach nor seemed to even notice the condition of his body – something Al was oddly grateful for.

He was about to sit down again and continue reading his book when the bell hanging over the door to the lobby chimed.

He started when he recognized the newcomer.

"Mrs. Sharp? Is that you?"

The elderly woman was carrying a basket over her arm and wore a shawl over her shoulders to keep the spring-time chill at bay, but Alphonse knew her by the fierce spark in her eyes that made him think of Granny – if Pinako had chosen quilting over automail.

Mrs. Sharp had had a pleasant expression on her face, but it lit up when she saw the boy in armor from the other day.

"Why, if it isn't my brave knight! How are you, love?"

If Al had been able to blush, he would have.

"I'm all right, thanks. Here, let me carry that for you. Are you here to see my brother and the colonel?" he asked as he gently removed the basket from her forearm.

"As a matter of fact, I am. How are they? My husband was quite worried about them, he's unspeakably grateful to all of you. I brought you some of my best jam."

Al's good mood deflated slightly.

"Not good… I mean, I'm sure they've been worse… I know my brother's been worse… but they're pretty sick."

Mrs. Sharp's frown was as stark as her name suggested.

"Oh, how terrible… and to think this all happened because of me."

Alphonse led her past the receptionist's desk and down the hall, not bothering to ask the lady if his brother and the colonel were allowed visitors. He doubted she would have answered anyway.

"None of this is your fault, ma'am! This is because of that rotten thief, and Brother and Colonel Mustang were only trying to help."

"Oh, I know that." That mischievous, almost Rockbell-like shine returned to her eyes. "It's just flattering to be the center of attention sometimes."

Alphonse couldn't help himself.

He giggled.

XXX

Edward knew of small, yet significant details.

He knew of the heavy weight and wonderful warmth of the quilt as it was draped over him.

He knew of the cold cotton and terrible bite as the intravenous line was inserted. He whimpered and tried to swat it away and he felt an arm loop over his side and pull him close. He thought he heard Mustang's voice mutter what sounded like, "no, no," but he couldn't quite place it.

He knew of the door opening and closing as people came and went, soft voices speaking in hushed tones.

He was thankfully not knowing of his brother entering the room and seeing him curled against the colonel under an impressively colorful quilt.

Al gasped and stared at the other, now empty and stripped, bed; then at the carefully arranged IV lines hanging from a stand, then at the doctor sitting in a chair at the foot at the bed, apparently keeping watch over Flame and Fullmetal.

"Pelznickel" smiled charmingly at the new arrivals.

"There you is! I've been expecting' y'all!"

Mrs. Sharp crossed the room briskly and kissed her husband, whom Al assumed he had finally learned the name of, on the cheek.

"The boy's brother met me in the lobby and helped me bring them jam. Oh, and they've got one of my quilts!"

"Yours is always the best."

She slapped him playfully.

"It's 'are', not 'is', and you know Betty always get the stitching better than I do."

"Betty's ain't warmer and that's what matters."

Al set the basket on the table and did his best to ignore the couple "being mushy." as Winry would have said. Watching them made him wonder if his parents were ever that way, or perhaps his grandparents, and thinking of the family he'd lost increased his fear for the family he still had.

He watched his brother's face as he slept, it was pulled in a grimace and wet with sweat. Mustang's brows were pinched as if he was dreaming about something worrisome.

"Mister… I mean Doctor Sharp?"

The doctor and his wife gave him a pair of odd looks that softened with understanding after a moment of thinking.

"Oh, no, dear, 'Sharp' is my father's name, I kept it when I married. Ol' Mor' didn't mind one bit. His father was from Drachma, you see, and, well…"

Al was confused.

But the affairs of grown-ups often confused him.

Granny had told him he would understand it when he was old and wrinkled, but Alphonse was beginning to think perhaps that grown-ups didn't actually understand much of anything and often gave the excuse that the young and curious were too naïve to grasp such concepts as a means to avoid revealing the secret.

"Okay… Doctor Mor'?"

The man made a face of distaste.

"I think I liked it better when you called me 'Pelznickel.' 'Doctor' is white as bread." He sighed morosely then forced his usual grin to reappear. "Yes, son?"

"Why are Brother and Colonel Mustang in the same bed?"

Mor' shrugged.

"Can't get 'im to let go. Don't see why I should. Keepin' each other warm is good for 'em an' right now all we can do is keep 'em cozy until it passes. The fever's also prob'ly makin' the young man a bit daffy. I doubt he knows much of where he is right now and is tryin' to stay close to somethin' he knows."

Al reached out a gauntlet to touch his brother but pulled back, afraid to wake him.

"Are their temperatures high?"

"Not too bad. I'm wagerin' it's more of a lack of fluids than much else, but even so, we should let their bodies do what they need to. They're hot enough to bake the germs but not their brains. They'll be fine."

As if expressing his agreement, Roy sneezed violently and shifted, groaning deep in his throat. The movement made Edward huff in annoyance and blink open his watery eyes.

It took everything in Al not to cry out with relief.

XXX

Edward looked up at his brother blearily.

There was an arm wrapped tightly around his middle and he could feel a warm body breathing against his back. For a moment, he wondered if he should be frightened, then decided that if Al wasn't concerned, he shouldn't be either.

"Al."

His mouth was sticky and his tongue felt swollen. He wondered why he could taste hot chocolate. The ghost of the flavor made him feel ill.

"Hi, Brother! How are you feeling?" Ed frowned at the sing-song pitch in his brother's voice.

"Al."

The gray-blue smudge seemed to pause.

"Yes, Brother, it's me. What is it?"

"Al."

"Are you thirsty?"

Ed felt the muscles in his face twitch.

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

Another pause.

"Do you… have to go to the bathroom?"

Edward had to think about this.

"…Yes."

The doctor later assured Alphonse that he doubted neither Edward nor the colonel would remember what followed.

Al began delicately extricating his brother from the bed and from beneath the colonel's arm. Roy protested this by tightening his arm. Mor' had to leave his wife to forcibly lift Roy's arm away from Edward so that Alphonse could hoist his brother up and onto his feet.

Colonel Mustang mumbled his disagreement, then started clearly verbally stating it, and before anyone could placate him (that was, if they had been able to), he started to howl.

"No. No, no, give him back. Give him back. Give him back! GIVE HIM BACK! GIVE HIM BACK!"

Edward swayed precariously on his feet, the world was spinning forwards and backwards and up and down. He winced as Mustang started to shout and curled in on himself, his teeth clicking as his body became aware of the loss of warmth Roy's had been providing. Unable to see each other because of the angle of Al's armor and their ability to understand this hindered by exhaustion, fever, and medication; it seemed to one that the other had disappeared without explanation.

"Colonel? Colonel?!"

At the sound of Ed's voice, Mustang sat up so quickly and forcefully he nearly slammed his forehead into his knees. His face was pale and sweaty while his eyes were bulging and swiveling around, trying to find his charge. His arms flailed, the hands patting the damp sheets

Mrs. Sharp stood up and made her way to Roy's side as quickly as she could with her stiffening legs, muttering reassurances as she caught his hands with hers and held them in the strong yet soft way that only grandmothers know.

"Hush now, hush now. Your boy's only gone to the W C. He's not even leaving the room."

Being who they were, as well as who the doctor was in relation to their reason being there, Roy and Ed had been given a private room in the hospital reserved for the seriously ill, indecently ill, and, as in their case, the easily recognizable. One of the luxuries such a placement provided was an attached washroom so that the patients wouldn't expose and be exposed by being taken down the hall.

Mustang stared at her, seemingly awestruck by her presence. This gave Alphonse the opportunity to shoo his brother towards the washroom. This ended up proving difficult because Edward was still connected to his drip, which was hooked to the tree that also held Roy's. When Al turned to fetch Ed's bag from the stand, the State Alchemists returned to each other's view. Roy's expression of reverence melted into relief as he caught sight of his missing major.

"Fullmetal! I thought they'd… taken you to grah."

Mrs. Sharp's face fell and Mor' looked disturbed, which was not an expression that fit him well.

Edward studied the colonel sleepily for a moment.

"No… they're taking me to piss."

If either of them was aware that the three others in the room had suddenly burst into laughter, they didn't show it.

Roy, however, seemed to come aware then of Mrs. Sharp holding his hands.

"Oh… am… am I going too?"

Mor' decided it would be best if he did.

Nurse Peggy, who was not having the best of luck that day, happened to return from her rounds as Mrs. Sharp was entertaining Roy with stories of her daughters as Alphonse assisted his brother. Peggy was sent for fresh clothes for the patients (their current ones were wet with sweat) and sheets for the bed. She paused on her way out.

"Just one bed?"

"Just the one," Mor' asserted. "They's a bit attached right now."

The nurse saw the single IV tree holding two lines (though Ed's bag was in the washroom with him and his brother, cleverly and delicately hung from the spike on Al's helmet), though she did not think that was what the doctor meant.

Roy was dead on his feet by the time they had him relieved and in fresh clothes. Edward did not bother waiting to return to the bed. The doctor, noticing the boy's head dipping and rising as he fought sleep, scooped him up and within half a minute Ed was curled against him and breathing as smoothly as he was able.

"Are you sure they're getting better?" Alphonse asked as he tucked in his brother out of habit, and by proxy, the colonel. He felt out of line to be essentially asking the doctor if he knew how to do his job, but the State Alchemists' condition of confusion seemed to be worsening, not abating.

Mor' did not seem insulted or even surprised by the question.

"It's the drip, mostly. They're on the heaviest we have because they've probably picked up every ague the East River's got on the menu. Their temps' were 'round one o' two, but I don't wanna give 'em anythin' for it unless they get warmer. The fever's there to do a job and it ain't in my interest to stop it."

Alphonse watched them sleep, Ed nestled snugly under the colonel's right arm.

"What's 'grah'? The colonel seemed awful worried about Brother going there."

The innocent question had the older couple exchanging a furtive glance. Then, with his eyes to the floor, Mor' answered.

"Coup de grace." He said it deep in his throat, like he'd swallowed his vocal cords. "It's a sayin' they use a lot in Creta. It's actually from some other place, don't remember the name, though. It's what they call a cullin' for a person."

Al's proverbial blood turned to ice.

"You… you don't mean –"

"It's mercy killing, dear." Mrs. Sharp's matter-of-fact tone did not match the sadness in her gaze. "It happens quite often in war. Sometimes a man just can't be saved… so his fellows save him from the pain."

Suddenly, Mustang's possessiveness of his subordinate didn't seem quite so strange, didn't seem quite so sensational.

Alphonse felt like crying, but he wasn't sure if it was out of grief or gratitude.

XXX

With Mrs. Sharp keeping an eye on them, Mor' took the opportunity make another set of rounds. One would be surprised what can happen in the span of five minutes in a hospital ward. Mrs. Sharp took it upon herself to ensure her rescuers were as comfortable as possible.

Al watched as she closed the still open window three-quarters of the way, diminishing the chill but still allowing some new air. She called a nurse and immediately sent the young man back out of the room with orders to fetch two more quilts and a tub, which the boy did so without question upon seeing who was bidding.

"Just a tub. Nothing in it. The little one's looking a bit pale."

Ed shifted and mumbled something about being "small enough his mom could lick him clean." Al was terrified about what that meant.

Ten minutes after her husband had taken his leave, one could barely see either Roy or Edward beneath their layers of quilting and small aluminum basin was on the table next to the basket of jam. This was not what impressed Al, however.

What surprised him was her dedication to keeping them calm the way that she did.

It wasn't the first time Alphonse had seen his brother morph from lashing leopard to doted kitten (though he would never admit a single of his witnesses to his brother). But the idea that the same could be done for Colonel Mustang was not something he had ever considered, let alone comprehend.

Whenever one started showing signs of stirring for whatever reason, the elderly woman would pull back the covers just enough so she could reach the upper part of his chest and would gently pat him, slowly and rhythmically, hard enough to make an easily heard sound but soft enough not to wake him. She had to stand to reach Mustang on the far side of the bed, but she showed no discomfort or annoyance in doing so.

Alphonse could stifle his insatiable curiosity any longer.

"Um… Mrs. Sharp… what are you doing?"

"Clearing their breathing," she said, as quietly and lovingly as if she was reciting a nursery rhyme. "I've had my fair share of babies and I've helped just as many young ladies have theirs. A new baby's chest is full of water, so the midwife pats it right over the heart on the back to bring the water up so the child can cry. It's no different for someone who's been pulled from the river or someone who has fever in their lungs. The less they have to work to bring it up, the easier they'll sleep."

As if in agreement, the colonel sucked in a breath and made a wet hacking noise. Mrs. Sharp rose from her seat with a speed that should have been painful for a person her age and started thumping Mustang's chest with determination. His coughing quickly thinned and he sighed, not opening his eyes once.

Ed grimaced the moment he was no longer the center of attention and wriggled his left arm free, grasping at the air with his hand. Out of impulse, Al stepped forward and took his brother's hand in his, which Edward responded to by pulling Al's gauntlet to his breastbone and pressing it there.

Al had an idea.

A minute later, Mrs. Sharp was happily enjoying light breeze and view from the window as Alphonse simultaneously administered to his brother and the colonel. Now that the administrator was large enough to reach both of them at once, Edward and Roy slept harder and deeper than they had since they had been brought in.

Ed dreamt he was being carried by his mother, each measured beat a step of her strong feet bearing them to the house on the hill where dinner was waiting for them.

Roy could not remember his parents, but perhaps the steady thrumming, so much like a pulsing heart, was some vague, shapeless memory of them. He dreamt he could remember.

XXX

Alphonse never tired, seeing as how he was incapable of doing so, and continued performing his newfound occupation throughout the day. As the minutes turned to hours and the sun travelled through the sky (while this job wasn't particularly mentally stimulating, Al was no stranger to boredom, in fact, compared to what he'd experienced before, this was actually rather fascinating watching his brother and the colonel mumble and sigh like gratified kittens in a basket), Mrs. Sharp dozed off, as women of her age are wont to do.

Upon his return, Doctor Mor' gruffly woke his sleeping wife by ordering her home to bed. She answered him just as roughly, with no hint of the drowsiness Alphonse had expected.

"I am not leaving them! If it wasn't for me, they wouldn't be here, and I've been around the bend enough times to know that things like this get worse before they get better. I am not leaving them alone with that."

"It is my duty as their physician to put them back on their feet. It is my duty as your husband to keep you on yours."

Al silently found the man's words to be charmingly romantic. His wife, however, seemed to find them insulting.

"I am older than you! I can take care of myself! I take better care of you and myself than you do yourself!"

Al's rhythm slipped slightly. He recovered before Ed and Roy (and the arguing couple) could notice.

"You're not doin' anyone any favors here, Carol. Go home. You can come back in the mornin' if you're up to it."

"Excuse me." Alphonse could no longer ignore the conversation going on behind him. Besides, the colonel and his brother's coughing had died down to the occasional huff of breath and Edward was beginning to look uncomfortable.

"Brother and Colonel Mustang are kind of" – Arrogant? Conceited? Exemplifiable idiots? – "proud, so if they wake and find that someone's tried to give them jam and quilts, they'll be embarrassed. Not that they won't appreciate it," he clarified when he saw Mrs. Sharp's expression turn puzzled. "They'll just pretend that they don't because they think appreciating things is babyish. Especially Brother. Brother also kind of… he'll probably…"

"He has a mouth on 'im like a thirsty sailor who's missed his rum all week," Mor' finished for him.

Al didn't know much about sailor or rum, having lived in a land-locked nation all his life and being a minor, but he didn't disagree.

Mrs. Sharp deliberated for a moment.

"Well... all right, then. I'll go, for the young men's pride. Certainly not yours!" She gave him a gentle but stern swat on the chest and hobbled out of the room, bidding Alphonse a very good night and promising to return first thing in the morning.

Al genuinely hoped she would.

XXX

The doctor checked their vitals again as best he could without waking them. He noticed that what little color had been in their faces earlier had dwindled and their skin was slick with sweat. Their spasmodic fits of shivering didn't pass him by, either.

He wasn't surprised, their fevers had increased and he checked the drip bags on the tree, wondering if it was time to introduce a temperature reducer. He decided to wait. This could simply be a short spell, a frontal attack on behalf of their immune systems against the pathogens inside them. He decided he would return in half an hour see if anything had changed and said as much to Al along with giving the boy instructions to send for him if anything changed before his return.

"I'll be in the private rooms, so you can call me on the button. Don't be afraid to call for anything for yourself, son, I know there ain't much to do here all night long."

"Thank you, sir. I'll remember that."

The man was gone before Al could question how he knew Alphonse didn't sleep.

XXX

Edward woke as abruptly as if he'd been dropped. In the moment before he'd opened his eyes, he thought he might have.

With his eyes open, he could see the world was stationary. His insides did not seem to care about this detail, as it felt as if they had sunk out of his abdomen and down, down into the earth upon which the hospital stood. The disgusting, stretching sensation made him wish they would break off and slither into the compacted dirt. At the moment, he didn't particularly care about what the consequences of that might be.

There was an arm around his stomach and heartbeat at his back. There was also sweat, sticking to him like a second skin of liquid. He was shaking but he wasn't cold. Quite the contrary. The body against his and blankets covering them felt like they were made of fire and Ed wanted nothing more than to push it all off himself, yet the mere thought was so exhausting he closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

And was jarred back to wakefulness by a large leather hand giving his chest a forceful thump.

Unbeknownst to him, his brother had paused the dual therapy session to close the window. As the shadows lengthened and the first stars pricked the purpling sky, Alphonse knew without feeling that the air was cooling. He remembered the doctor's advice to allow the fevers to run their course rather than stifling them and thought it probably wouldn't be beneficial to allow the room to become too cold. Perhaps it was this pause that had caused Edward to wake. It was now ironically keeping him from returning to sleep.

Ed lifted his eyelids slightly and stared dully at his brother. Al paused mid-pat and stood motionless.

"Brother?"

Ed didn't respond.

"Brother? Are you all right?"

Ed coughed in his throat.

"Do you need me to get the doctor?"

Edward did not truly understand what Alphonse was saying. He heard the word "doctor" and grimaced, shaking his head in distaste.

This proved to be a bad idea. The motion sent an odd shiver through his body, tingling along his elongated innards and into the ground like a lightning strike. Edward shuddered and rolled to his left to escape whatever line had tethered him, which irritated the needle in his arm, which made him squeak in pain and roll onto his automail arm.

Roy Mustang came awake to the experience of having his left arm being kneaded like bread dough.

Roy grunted in pain and annoyance and tried to pull his arm free out of instinct, which pulled at the needle in his arm, which made him hiss at the sting, which sent Edward into such a state of confusion that he threw out his metal arm and bashed his knuckles on Al's breastplate.

The resulting CLANG had them both awake and terrified.

"Fullmetal?!"

Mustang sat up so quickly that black flowers bloomed behind his eyes and he nearly fell more than asleep.

Edward had sat up, immediately regretted it, almost pitched forward and was saved from squashing his face against his own lap by Alphonse grabbing his shoulders.

"Brother?!"

Edward couldn't have answered if he'd wanted to.

Edward needn't have answered if he'd wanted to.

Al gathered enough as he watched his brother's face shift from white to green to yellow and back to white.

"I'm calling the doctor, Brother."

"No."

The sound of Edward's disused voice gave Alphonse pause but only for a moment.

"You and the colonel are really sick. I'm calling the doctor."

At the sound of his title, Roy looked up from where he'd been mesmerized by the different colors of the quilt. He pulled an unsteady hand from beneath the blankets and planted his palm against the cool steel of the armor.

Al turned his attention to Mustang and fear settled in his empty body. Seeing his big, strong brother like this scared him but seeing the immovable, unwavering colonel equally weak and qualmish scared him in a different way, a way he wasn't used to and didn't know how to react to.

For a selfish second, Alphonse did not want to be in that room. He did not want to know how vulnerable the pillars of his life could be.

Edward did not want him to know, either.

In Edward's universe, Alphonse was the most essential element. All other things were inconsequential or incompatible against Alphonse's happiness and future. In that moment, Edward understood with what lucidity he had that he was currently incompatible with his brother's comfort.

"Al."

The helmet shifted from staring at the colonel's hand still resting against the breastplate.

"Yes, Brother?"

Ed knew his brother's mannerisms too well to be tricked by his unfazed voice, even with his head fuzzy with fever.

"Water. Please, Al."

Roy's hand slid off Al's metal body with a squeak as he took a step backward, leaving a sweaty print in its wake. Roy slumped forwards, his eyes glazed as if he was trying to remember something he'd forgotten.

"You want me to get you some water, Brother? Are you thirsty?"

Edward did not want water.

He wanted his brother out of the room.

"Water. Al, water."

"Alphonse."

The colonel shivered, his hospital shirt damp with sweat. His eyes were round and wide and Al wondered if he had suddenly remembered what he had been trying to remember.

And then he saw.

When Roy had reached out to touch Al's armor, he'd been using the younger Elric to keep himself from flopping on top of Edward as he reached for the chord to call the nurse (as well as getting his IV line out from under Ed). He was still holding onto the inconspicuous string, probably sending the bell ringing to high heaven in the nurses' station below and insuring they would send someone up quickly.

Alphonse nodded in both understanding and affirmation.

"Okay, Brother. I'll get you some water."

XXX

Roy knew they were in a hospital and he'd been in enough hospitals to know the general layout, befuddled brain or no. Likewise, Edward knew he was ill because he'd been ill enough times to know the symptoms.

However, they were both too exhausted, medicated, and febrile to make rational decisions, so they defaulted to their innate tendencies: Roy had called for the nurse while Ed hid just how awful he felt from his brother. Perhaps one could have interpreted this slight return to normalcy as a sign of healing, but neither alchemist was particularly skilled at interpretation in their current state.

This was probably why Edward sat up when he should have laid down and Roy tried to get out of the bed when he should have stayed put.

Ed's internal tether to the underworld gave a warning yank and Roy got himself caught in the blankets. Fleece was suddenly the heaviest material on the planet. With Al gone, Ed was less concerned about appearances and closed his eyes, feeling all the liquids in his body simmer and swirl like broth set to boil.

Roy succeeded in pushing the quilts away enough for him to crawl precariously towards the edge of the bed where Ed was sitting on his legs and swaying to and fro as if he was meditating.

"Fullmetal."

Ed made a noise in his throat.

"Fullmetal… are you all right?"

Ed didn't answer.

"Fullmetal, I need the… I have…"

Admitting helplessness was not something Roy could do well, especially if the person he was admitting to was someone who wasn't ever, ever supposed to think Colonel Roy Mustang and helpless in the same thought (so, anyone, anywhere). But if Roy didn't get to the W C soon, he wouldn't have to admit to anyone.

It was unfortunate, then, that Edward could not move because of the rope in his navel. Gravity pulled it if he sat still and shifting only added extra strain. But Ed knew he could not stay on the bed. No, he could not stay here and let the colonel see this. No one was supposed to see this.

So, there they sat, trapped by the fact that every movement, every thought, every heartbeat, hurt; and too afraid of worsening the hurting that was already there to get themselves away from it.

Edward continued to sway and Roy started to shrink, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to squash the feeling from his organs.

Then Ed started to gulp as if he was attempting to swallow his own tongue and his eyes snapped open.

"Fullmetal?"

No one was supposed to see this.

"Hold on, Fullmetal."

Maybe if he held his breath – no, that made it so much worse.

Calming thoughts, soothing things, Risembool grass flowing in the breeze in the summer – the imagined motion was enough to make him horrendously dizzy.

He couldn't stop shaking, so why was everything so hot?!

Something cool and round was pushed into his lap and a hand grabbed his arm to keep him from falling off the bed as every one of his muscles stiffened and the string in his guts gave a final almighty tug.

It was frightening how similar it was to drowning in that he wasn't able to breathe, his body was panicking, and yet his mind wandered to the most bizarre corners of the cosmos.

Like birds.

Birds were weird.

Did birds have to learn how to adjust their wings to the wind so as to not be blown away or was it just something they knew how to do. What was it like just knowing how to do something so complicated? It was unfair that humans had to learn how to do the most simplistic and vital functions for survival while other animals came into existence having those skills mastered for them.

"Easy, Fullmetal. Deep breaths. It's okay, I've got you."

Like walking.

Nearly all other mammals were born knowing how to walk, while a person wouldn't start standing without assistance until almost the first full year of life.

Humans were idiots.

Fragile, unredeemable idiots.

How in God's name had they gotten so far?

And then it was over.

There were tears running down his face.

He tried to wipe them away but his hand was wet with sweat.

The bowl of vomit was snatched away and this wouldn't have been significant if it weren't for the fact that it had been snatched rather than simply taken. He heard Mustang make a choking, gurgling sound before panting frantically and it wasn't until the process repeated itself that Ed realized what it meant.

He wondered if he ought to be disgusted that he and the colonel were sharing a sick bowl. He found he was unable to.

He actually felt… strangely fine.

Not good. Just… fine.

And appreciative and sleepy and refreshingly cool as he broke into a sweat that was more water than salt.

Ed shifted around and was met with Mustang's hunched back as the colonel's shoulders pinched together and released like the spring on a trebuchet. Ed wasn't sure if he should do something, and if he was, what that something was, which was odd because his head felt clearer than it had since before he had fallen into the river.

He decided to lean forward so that his forehead was resting on Mustang's quaking spinal muscles in case he could transfer some of his clearness to Roy. It must have worked because after a few more heaves the colonel stilled, and in the stillness Ed felt a slippery hand find his and squeeze his fingers gratefully.

XXX

Alphonse returned with the water at the same moment the doctor arrived with a nurse in tow, so they entered the room together. Al wasn't sure which impressed him more: the flexibility of the IV lines or the stoicism of old man.

"Brother!"

Al brushed past Mor' as he calmly made his way to the tree to check the fluid bags and scooped his brother into a sitting position from where he'd curled into a ball against the other curled ball in the bed that was Mustang.

The post-purging clarity had been tragically short-lived.

It turned out the line in Ed's middle had merely slackened rather than snapped and it had begun to pull dangerously again. Roy had tried to reduce the tension on his by keeping torso as low and close to the ground as he could without actually getting on the ground. Judging by the way the shakiness of his breathing had increased as the minutes went by, it wasn't working.

Ed stared, eyes glazed, at his brother. If he had been going to say something, he didn't get the chance because the colonel moaned piteously, rolled into a sitting position, and started to retch into the tub on the table (Alphonse was grateful he had no sense of smell).

Edward did not react to this beyond a glance and a swallow.

The nurse, neither Eliza nor Peggy, stroked a soft hand along the colonel's spine like he was a cat. Meanwhile, the doctor came to Al's other side and touched the side of Edward's face with his hand. Ed sighed and half-closed his eyes. He was surprisingly cooperative when a thermometer was slipped under his tongue, though he frowned contemplatively and the muscles in his jaw worked restlessly.

Roy flopped onto the mattress with a gasp and the nurse quickly snatched the tub and scuttled out of the room. Mustang watched the doctor as he took the glass tube from Edward's mouth, read it silently, then studied the colonel's face. Roy studied him back.

Making a decision, Mor' pulled a small vial of what looked like water and a cloth from his pocket. After dabbing a few drops onto the fabric, he wiped down the thermometer and deftly stuck it between Roy's teeth. Mustang's nose wrinkled as he tasted alcohol.

The nurse returned as the doctor read the degree of Roy's fever, carrying two fresh tubs in each hand.

"Angelica, tell the pharmacy we need aspirin in the new drip. They's up to a hunn'erd and four."

The young woman nodded and left as she was bid.

"Al."

Alphonse's gauntlets had not let go of Edward, though his attention had diverted.

"What is it, Brother?"

"Ghghahg."

Al wouldn't have asked what "ghghahg" meant even if he had the chance because he was too afraid to ask. He didn't need to, because "ghghahg" quickly turned into "ghuukhaaa" and Al knew what that meant.

The doctor all but shoved one of the tubs under Ed's face with one hand and used the other hand to give the boy's left shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Well, the good news is this is prob'lly the worst it'll get."

"What's wrong with them now? I thought we got the infection out of them."

The colonel's arm had snaked across the gap between them and placed itself against Ed's side, the touch saying what Roy lacked the energy to voice. This had been their unspoken agreement throughout their ordeal: comfort through closeness.

"Out of their chests, but not their bellies. It could be that what they drank has finally festered up or maybe the medicine ain't sittin' with 'em well. Maybe both. Best to let it go for awhile and if it don't stop on it's own, I'll give 'em somethin' to stop it."

Alphonse felt horrendously useless, holding the tub for his brother as Edward dry heaved with painful, squeaking breaths, though it wasn't Ed's nausea that bothered him. Al had been there, if in the other room, throughout Ed's automail surgery, and helped care for his healing brother as soon as he'd gained enough coordination in his new body. Edward probably didn't remember those days, he had been little more than catatonic from illness and sedatives.

What tore at Al's missing heart were the tears rolling down Ed's cheeks.

"Oh, Brother, it's okay. It just happens. Now you can take a nice, long nap, and I promise you'll feel better when you wake up."

But Ed wasn't looking at Al. He was staring at the doctor, his eyes full of desperate hope. After a sad, croaking attempt, Edward found his voice.

"Want to die. I want to die!"

Alphonse reeled back in horror.

"Brother! You.. you don't mean that! You're just –"

"No, I agree with Fullmetal for once," Mustang mumbled from where his face was smashed against the sheets. "I also request death."

Al had no words for that.

Old Mor' smiled as if the colonel and major had asked him if they could have some candies. He patted them each on the back like they were particularly baleful puppies.

"Well, ain't it a good thing Angelica's on her way with the aspirin. It should have you two sweatin' like grapes turnin' to raisins. How do you like that?"

Ed sniffled and shuffled closer to Roy so that the boy was nuzzling the man's hand like a kitten. Mustang did not pull away.

Within five minutes, they were asleep.

XXX

The doctor sent Alphonse away as soon as Angelica arrived with the fresh bags.

"I know how to deal with this, been dealin' with it most of my life, and I've had a very, very long life."

"But it's awfully late. Aren't you tired?"

Mor' waved Al's concern away like it was a swarm of bugs in front of his face.

"I'm used to all-nighters. We have a little archive room downstairs full of ol' textbooks. Peruse 'em as you please."

Alphonse was still reluctant to leave his brother. The doctor slapped the armor's arm lightly in heart, but the strength of the blow was given away by the echo.

"What'd you say they is? 'Arrogant?' 'Conceited?' 'Exemplifberal somethin' somethin'…' point is, I think they'd prefer it if you waited for 'em to finish up. An' I'm pretty sure you ain't in disagreemen'."

The old man wasn't wrong, though Alphonse didn't know how he knew. It was this lack of knowing how he knew this that convinced Al to concede more than anything else.

He was halfway down the stairs when it occurred to him that the thoughts the doctor had quoted had not been ones Al had spoken.

XXX

It was a bad night.

Roy's ribs hurt and it seemed no matter how much he gagged and choked, he couldn't get the slimy, curdling feeling out of his stomach. On some distant level, he noticed his coughing had significantly diminished (though it wasn't completely gone) and he was sorry he was unable to celebrate its absence. Edward was next to him… at least, he thought it was Edward, he didn't know very many people – or any other people, for that matter – who had both a metal arm and leg. Sometimes it seemed he was holding the boy while he struggled to breathe and vomited bile, other times it felt more like Fullmetal was holding him while he took his turn.

Then it was like he was being held by someone completely different, someone large and warm and smelled like mint and hummed tunes Roy didn't know under his breath…

He liked that someone.

At some point there was another someone, someone who carded her thin hands through his unwashed hair and gave him words of comfort that he almost believed. She wasn't disgusted whenever Mustang started involuntarily convulsing, instead she brought him closer and rocked him in her lap with the gentleness of a new mother.

"No, dear, I'm afraid I'm not your mother. I'm sure she was a beautiful woman, though."

Roy supposed she must have been.

He was sad he couldn't remember.

XXX

Edward wanted to touch the man's fuzzy face, though he didn't know why.

Perhaps he'd always wanted to and had since forgotten what had been keeping him from doing it before.

The wiry hairs tickled his palm and the man lowered his chin so that Ed didn't have to strain to reach.

"So, you like it? The wife is always tellin' me to shave it off."

Ed wasn't sure what he was talking about, he'd forgotten.

He shifted uncomfortably, that stupid knot in his belly refusing to loosen. He heard Roy cough wetly from somewhere nearby, he could feel the colonel's shaking ribs against his foot.

Why was Mustang under his foot?

He'd finally squashed the bastard, he thought with a wan smile.

Then the knot stretched tight and he was trying not spit up on the man's tickly beard.

"Number five for both." Ed hadn't realized there was a count. "Could you take him, Carol? I'll put the syrup in their lines."

He was jostled unceremoniously and he began coughing in earnest. Whoever was holding him now thumped him gently on the back, unfortunately in the same spot where they had drained his chest.

He cried out at the sudden stinging pain and Roy called out, his voice oddly frightened and quiet.

"Fullmetal?! Full… met…

The old woman cradling him apologized as if she had shot him, shushing him and rocking him and trying to lull him to sleep.

It must have worked, because Ed remembered nothing afterwards.

XXX

There are many different kinds of sleep.

There is exhausted sleep and restless sleep, medicated sleep and fever sleep, and then there is the deep, cleansing sleep of healing.

The fascinating thing about intravenous medication is how quickly it works and before the hour was up, Ed and Roy had gone from shaking, vomiting wrecks to sleeping deeper than they had in days, though they were absolutely drenched in the perspiration that had been forced by the aspirin to break their fever.

Once it was clear the medicines were fulfilling their purpose, Mrs. Sharp had her husband help her extricate herself from beneath Edward, who had unknowingly wrapped his arms around her, and Roy, who in his need to keep his subordinate properly guarded had crawled towards them and was clutching Ed's automail arm.

Once she was free, she vainly flattened her wet and wrinkled skirts.

"Well," she said, as if she had been going to say something further, which she did not.

Flame and Fullmetal were now holding each other, for warmth or out of reflex or some other reasoning.

"Quite the dog pile," Mor' commented aloud. His wife stared at him in confusion, then upon understanding his pun, slapped him as only a wife can.

XXX

Alphonse recognized a lot from when he and Edward were preparing to attempt human transmutation.

There was a lot, lot more he didn't recognize.

It probably would have helped to know that human intestines are made up of four separate layers and the formation of osteocytes, which Al had puzzled out were the cells in bone that were actual bone compared to the cells in bone that were gestating blood cells.

He was so engrossed with his newfound research that his mind had jumped (lacking nerves to produce reflexes, his body did not react similarly when the doctor spoke).

"Your brother's asking for you."

It took Al an embarrassing five seconds to find the implication, then he was barreling past Doctor Mor' and taking the steps clankingly three at a time.

Edward was curled up on the far side of the bed, eyes clear but tired and disinterested, nursing a spoon holding strawberry jam in one hand and holding an opened jar in the other.

Mustang had claimed the side with the pillows, where he sat cross-legged holding his own jar but not currently partaking of its contents.

Ed didn't react to his brother barging into the room beyond glancing up for a split second.

"Hey, Al."

Al suddenly felt out of place, his joints bent as if in anticipation of lunging or leaping. He forced himself to relax, bulky limbs going limp against his body.

"Hey, Brother."

Edward ate another spoonful of jam with a slurp.

Roy rattled the spoon around in his jar.

"Good morning, Colonel."

Mustang answered Alphonse's greeting with a polite nod but said nothing.

"How are you feeling?" Al asked the room, unsure if he would get a response or from whom.

"I'm sore and my arm itches and my skin feels gross," Edward supplied, as calmly and as matter-of-factly as if he'd been describing the quality of the jam he was eating.

"We're much better than we were," Roy translated needlessly.

They silently agreed that Al did not need to know about how they had woken up side by side, half-formed memories between them, and how they may have simply gone back to sleep that way, too tired and too drained to contemplate it.

Mrs. Sharp arrived without preamble, smiling beatifically at the sight of the alchemists eating her jam.

"Oh, good! It's nice to see you up and about after the night you had. Ol' Mor' is exhausted, he fell asleep in his office, the poor dear."

Fullmetal and Flame exchanged a nonplussed look. They knew that the doctor and his wife had been with them, protecting and comforting them during their horrid spells of sickness, but it hadn't occurred to them that the elderly couple had not slept in between.

"I daresay your fevers have broken, judging by how you both look as if you just came out of the rain. Mor' says he wants to keep you here for one more day and night, and if you haven't backtracked by this time tomorrow, you two can spend the next three days at home before you go back to chasing pickpockets underwater." She smiled cheerfully.

Alphonse clasped his gauntlets happily.

"Thank you, Mrs. Sharp. Did you hear that, Brother? You can leave soon!"

Ed "hummed" thoughtfully before coughing dryly into his metal fist. He grimaced and grabbed his shirt over his chest. "Ow."

Al was beside his brother in the blink of an eye, patting his chest lightly. Ed looked up at him, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Al? What're you doing?"

Al pulled back as if Ed had pushed him away.

"Sorry, Brother! It's just… something Mrs. Sharp showed me. It's supposed to help you with your breathing."

Al waited patiently for Edward's iconic mortified outburst.

Instead, he got a thoughtful, "Oh."

Silence.

"Why did you stop?"

"Because it's my turn, Fullmetal. Last time I checked, I was in the same condition as you." Roy finished his statement with a spoonful of jam.

Ed stuck his tongue out at him.

"Screw you, Al's my brother. Get your own."

Roy smiled at him, a confidential smile that made Ed look away shyly.

Mustang's smile widened and he had another mouthful of jam.

XXX

Per their request, Fullmetal's original bed had been remade and they had been directed towards the hospital showers and provided fresh clothes. Being still weak in the knees, they had needed help to get there, but were able to wash and dress themselves.

They had also been given toothbrushes and paste, which Roy in particular was quite grateful for. His mouth had tasted awful.

Doctor Mor' came to check on them in the evening, his beard looking a bit squashed from using it as a pillow, but his eyes were bright with energy.

"How're we doin'?"

Ed looked up from his second jar of jam, his face posed in his caricature sulk.

"Brother's not happy about keeping the IV in," Alphonse explained, gesturing towards Ed's fluid bag now on its own tree,

The doctor smiled sympathetically.

"You're cotton-mouthed, after all the tossin' you've done. Can't give a raisin to your brother, can I?"

"How 'bout you take the needle out and I'll drink the water like the mammal I am? I ain't a frog that soaks it up through my skin."

"Unfortunately, you are not," Roy answered for Mor'. "And because you are not, the water has to go through your digestive system before it reaches your blood, which takes too long. Not to mention it's full of salt and other minerals to keep your blood pressure at the correct level."

"How do you know that?" Ed shot back, absentmindedly fiddling with the injection site on his arm and only becoming aware of it when his brother pulled his metal hand away.

"This is far from my first time receiving intravenous treatment, Fullmetal, and if I had done so, not my first time requesting it being removed."

"It itches," Ed whined, once again fiddling with the needle and once again having his hand yanked.

"Try not to think about it," Mustang offered. "How about you think about that pretty little mechanic of yours? That should distract you quite nicely."

"Why, you –"

He was interrupted by a book being shoved in his face.

Once he'd recovered from his surprise by the book's presence, he was then surprised by the book's existence. He snatched it from the doctor's proffered grip and ran his fingers over the weathered jacket and spine, tracing the fanciful inked title. It opened with the creaking of dry pages and Edward was bathed with the smell of aged paper.

"This… this is…"

"I've had it in my office for… I don't remember since when… don't remember where it came from. Thought you could get some use out of it. Take it as a gift for helpin' the misses."

Alphonse, confused by his brother's sudden reverence, peeked over Ed's shoulder and his armor went stock still as he read an excerpt of the preface.

"Brother… this is…"

"The archived work of Philippus Aureolus Theophrastus. Just one of these volumes is worth millions of Cenz!" Edward looked up with an expression very, very few had seen on his young countenance: genuine respect.

"Thank you. I can't…"

"Yes, you can," Mor' answered, surprisingly stubbornly. He turned to Roy, who had just seen the impossible occur – Fullmetal sincerely thanking someone – and was now staring at the man pensively, afraid yet excited. The small slip of paper he was given felt rathe anticlimactic as a result. At a glance, Mustang saw it was a phone number.

"Someone gives you trouble, just call that number, and I promise you, they'll wish they'd left well enough alone."

Roy frowned skeptically.

"How and why?"

Mors' face instantly darkened, a storm covering a summer sky.

"I have my ways, son. Best remember that."

Roy believed him.

In the next instant, he was beaming again, a soft, sunny beam, his bright eyes on Alphonse. Seemingly from nowhere, he produced a small wooden box, about the size of his palm, and held it out to the younger Elric.

"This should keep your brain ticklin' at night."

The box looked to made up of multiple smaller boxes, a square made of columns and rows of squares, each with a symbol painted in the center, with some of the symbols being the same as others.

Edward stared at it in bemusement.

"What the he –" Mor' gave Ed a shockingly frightening look, and the boy's mouth clomped shut with a click of teeth.

Alphonse took the box, turning it this way and that.

"What… what does it do?"

"See for yourself."

Gingerly, Al pressed on the little squares, testing for buttons, and yelped in surprise when an entire column moved, creating a diamond on top of two squares. Slowly, carefully, he turned the layer the rest of the way and studied it the contraption in amazement, noticing how the pattern of symbols had changed.

"Thank you, sir. Even though I don't know what it is."

The man laughed and patted the boy's helmet affectionately.

"It's a game. Try to move the rows until they all match. It's a lot harder than it looks. Believe me, I've tried."

Al was already turning and switching the columns in earnest, up and down, back and forth, reveling in the object's dexterity and making his observing brother dizzy.

"Well, that's that. Better get to back to the house and the wife." The man stretched, a very bizarre sight for a someone of his girth, his spine popping. "Remember: bed for three more days, then take it easy for a while. Paper's are done, so you it's up to you when you're up."

As if that was a satisfactory farewell after the experience they had shared, Doctor Mor' made his way towards the door, whistling happy as he went.

"Wait."

Mor' stopped at Mustang's voice, turning halfway so that at his eyes could meet Roy's. Mustang's eyes were scrutinizing, an expression they were quite familiar with. He fingered the numbered paper in his lap restlessly.

"What's your name?"

The doctor smiled. The colonel was asking so he could verify the number he'd given was true and trustworthy… and so that he could file the man's identity for later.

"Moroz. Kris Moroz. Awful Drachman. An' awful confusin'."

"Oh?" Mustang grinned cordially. "What is so confusing about it?"

"Well," Moroz met Roy's expression with an equally political one, "see, they know me as 'Moroz' up north, but in the west I've been called 'Klaus', you don't want to know what they call me down south. Here, though," Kris's eyes sparkled with an energy that felt dangerously close to magical, "here, they like to call me 'Pelznickel'."

Roy lost his composure, his jaw dropping.

Edward lost his grip on his tome. It plopped against his knees with a heavy thoomp.

Alphonse continued working his new gadget, apparently unconcerned by this impossible revelation.

Pelznickel left without another word.

It was silent for the next five minutes, the only sound the clicking of Al's wooden box, Finally, the armored boy set his puzzle down and looked at his dumbfounded companions exasperatedly.

"Well, what did you expect? It was terribly obvious!"

Silence.

Al sighed and resumed his task.

Do not get parvo, for the love of God I thought I was gonna die and then when I didn't die I wanted to die. Say you what you want about other illnesses but after spending an entire night puking up my intestines with a Godawful fever, everything sickness since then has felt like a cakewalk.

Anyway.

I'm gonna start working on the next chapter of Taut and I'm currently planning and researching for a possible one-shot/chapter about the ramifications of Baschool and I'm pretty stoked about that.

Margarita time!

P. S.

To put the book's monetary worth into perspective, Arakawa-Sama officially stated that Amestrian Cenz are equivalent in value to Japanese Yen, which are equivalent in value to 10 American cents. So the book was technically worth a few thousand American bucks. I don't know why you needed to know that.