Adrenaline was a powerful thing. Ed was familiar with it. It got him through devastatingly painful stab wounds, broken bones, and multiple other injuries he's had in the past. However, adrenaline couldn't mask the pain from a bullet wound.

Ed hadn't even heard the gun go off. One moment he'd been delivering a powerful knock out blow to one of the gang members and the next an agonizing dagger of pain was tearing itself through his stomach and chest.

He doesn't even remember collapsing to the ground, blood bubbling past his lips. His eyes wide and agony shooting through his limbs.

He's gagging and gasping through the blood bubbling in his throat. It threatens to choke him. Terror floods his veins. No! No! This can't be happening.

He should've known better than to go to this warehouse alone and without backup. He'd thought he could take them down alone. For the most part, he had. He hadn't been able to follow their leader. The man had fled.

He realizes now that he should've let Al come.

He should've realized it was a bad idea.

Now, he was suffering the consequences.

He can feel the thick blood pouring from both wounds. Oh god. So much blood.

Take inventory of your surroundings. Make sure the enemy is gone, then take inventory of your wounds. Don't lose consciousness. You're dead if you do.

He breathes and nearly chokes on the blood flooding from his mouth and down to his chin. He doesn't have much time. It takes fifteen minutes at the most for people with all four limbs to bleed out. His time is even shorter.

Pun not intended.

He needs...needs to figure out how he collapsed. A quick shifting of his limbs and he figures he's on his stomach. The concrete is sucking away his remaining strength. He claws at the pavement, desperate to pull himself up. He needs to...needs to push himself to his feet...somehow get to a hospital

His breath rattles in his chest. The bullet must've punctured a lung. He grits his teeth, begging his body to crawl through the pain. It won't listen, lead is filling his limbs and his mind is clouding. He's losing too much blood.

He's almost out of time.

Quiet footsteps fill his hearing.

"Thought I killed you instantly." The voice is rough and cold.

Ed's eyes snap open. No. The snarl bubbles past the blood in his throat. All he has to do is touch his hands together. His flesh arm trembles as he tries to move it from where it's covering his stomach.

His movement is stopped when the man pushes his foot down onto his flesh arm.

Crack!

A roar of pain leaves his bloodied lips. His broken arm throbs in time with the beat of his racing heart.

"B-Bastard." He growls weakly.

The man chuckles. "It took much longer to shoot you than I thought it would, Fullmetal alchemist."

The man presses down on his arm and the broken bones send waves of agony to his brain. The scream rips from his bloody lips and his spine arches, desperate for an escape.

The man laughs roughly at his pain. He doesn't have any time at all now. Ice is seeping into his limbs and he can't seem to move his face from the concrete.

Anger and helplessness fill him. He was so stupid. Why had he insisted his brother not come with him?

This was it.

Hot tears well up in his eyes. The ground blurs through his bloodsoaked bangs.

Al.

His little brother is out there somewhere, waiting for him to come back.

He had promised Al that they'd get their bodies back together.

I'm sorry Al. I'm so, so sorry.

What was his little brother going to do without him?

He had failed his little brother. Like usual. Al had told him to come back before lunch. He'd scoffed and said he'd be back before then.

How long would his body lay here before someone found his decomposing body?

How long would Al wait before searching for him?

How long would it take the colonel to find him and tell Al that he was never going to see his older brother again?

The man presses the gun to the back of Ed's head.

His eyes slip shut, waiting for the embrace of darkness.

Distantly, he feels the foot shift off his back. Something loud fills the warehouse. He's in too much pain to be able to focus on his hearing.

He faintly feels arms rolls him over.

Through the hair sticking to his face, panicked, dark eyes stare into glazed gold.

His slowing mind recognizes Mustang. W-Where...Where was Al? If this was to be his last moments, his brother was the thing he wanted to see.

"C-Colonel…" He can't breathe through the blood bubbling to his lips to finish the sentence.

"M-Mustang...tell...Al…"

"Tell him yourself!" Mustang's voice echoes through him.

"D-Don't b-be r-ridiculous, c-colonel. L-Lost t...too much blood…"

Something presses down on the wounds and a sharp cry of agony escapes him.

Mustang's face is fading away and his lips are yelling at him but he can't hear what he's saying.

His vision fades to black and the rest of his sense fade to nothingness.

Roy Mustang did not scare easily. Fullmetal didn't scare him easily. So, to barge into that warehouse and see his fourteen-year-old subordinate in a steadily growing pool of blood with a gun pressed to the back of his head, it scared the life out of him.

Hawkeye quickly shoots the man in the shoulder and the thigh. He falls off of Fullmetal, screaming profanities at them.

Mustang quickly makes his way to the kid. His heart nearly freezes in his chest. The kid looked dead, and if it wasn't for his barely open glazed golden eyes, and the slight rise and fall of his chest, then he thought the kid was dead.

He doesn't even know how the kid is even still alive with all that blood surrounding him.

He yells over to Hawkeye to get the medics and gingerly turns Fullmetal over.

The kid is covered in blood from a bullet wound to the chest and stomach.

The kid's glazed eyes manage to focus on him and a hint of recognition goes through them.

The kid slurs his name and he can't understand the incoherent mumbling that forces its way out of his lips.

He thinks he hears Fullmetal to take care of his brother and rage floods through him.

Fullmetal was not leaving his little brother, not over some bullet wounds.

"Tell him yourself!" He hisses, quickly taking off his jacket and presses it down against the kid's wounds.

That draws a sharp, agonized cry from the kid.

Alarm fills him as those golden eyes begin to waver and slowly cross, consciousness fading all too quickly.

"Hawkeye, the medics!" He yells from over his shoulder.

"They just pulled up, sir!" She yells back.

He turns back and the kid's eyes have fallen shut, unconsciousness claiming him.

He presses harder onto the wounds, trying to stop the flow of blood.

Hawkeye joins his side, pressing down as well.

Footsteps rush towards them and suddenly he's aware of no pushback against his hands.

The kid wasn't breathing.

"He's not breathing!" He yells.

The medics act quickly. Prior trips to the hospital have taught them Fullmetal's blood type and an IV full of O+ blood is inserted into the vein in the kid's hands.

The medic quickly sets to work on CPR, while the other presses a mask over the kid's face to breathe for him.

For five minutes, they watch. For five minutes, the kid is dead. For five minutes, any hope of reviving him is slim. It stretches to ten minutes and the medics are ready to give up.

One more time. He begs. They listen, it most likely won't work, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to have to tell Alphonse that his brother his never coming back. His heart is already cracking and tears are slipping down his face.

He leans down to the kid's ear and begs him.

"Wake up, kid. You have so much to do. You have to get Alphonse his body back."

He tightens his grip around the flesh shoulder…

And the kid breathes.

He can't stop the tears rolling down his cheeks and he can he the sobs his teammates let out, even Hawkeye. The medics get Fullmetal onto the stretcher quickly.

All he can think about on the ride to the hospital, is telling Alphonse that his brother was coming back to him.

B...ee..p

Bee...p

Beep

The sound finds its way through his fog-filled brain.

Why can't it leave him alone?

He shifts his position a little and pain floods him. He gasps.

Should he be hurting if he's dead?

Something touches his forehead and tries to move away from it, but the hand doesn't let him.

"Ed...ward."

"E...d"

Who was calling him? Why couldn't they realize they were disturbing him?

The hand disappears and a new hand reappears.

The hand thumbs open an eyelid and he sees the fuzzy face of a...doctor?

"Es..wak...ing...p"

The fog has dissipated to a light mist and his eyes are opening.

"Brother?"

His fuzzy eyes slide towards the voice, Al filling his vision. The white hospital walls and the disinfectant hit him at once.

"Al." He whispers. His brother was there. "He hadn't died and left him alone."

His brother brushes his sweat-dampened hair out of his face.

"H-How long have I been out?" His vision clears and he can see his brother clearly.

"A week."

"A week!" He yelps, gingerly pushing himself into a sitting position.

"You died twice, Fullmetal." He suddenly sees the other person in the room, Mustang.

Mustang's voice is stern but his face is relieved.

"Twice?"

"You died for ten minutes at the scene and crashed on the operating table."

He doesn't know what to say to that. His looks down at his lap, twisting the sheets.

"You really scared me, brother," He hears the tears in Al's voice and his heart clenches.

"What were you thinking? Going off by yourself!" Al's yell startles him.

"I-I-"

"You weren't thinking at all, idiot!" A small smile came to his lips, he deserved that.

"You're right." He tightens his hand over Al's.

"When am I not?" He hears the smirk in Al's voice.

He sighs, turning to Mustang.

"How long until I'm out this time?"

"A week, you lost a lot of your blood and had to have a lot of stitches."

He groans. "Well maybe if you hadn't gone off by yourself, you wouldn't be in here." His younger brother yells.

"I get it!" He yells back.

Mustang snorts and stands up.

"You're not going to lecture me, bastard?"

"No, I'm sure Alphonse has it covered."

He sighs and leans back, exhaustion pulling at him.

"Oh, and Fullmetal." He opens up an eye and stares at the man.

He swears he sees a slight flash of worry.

He internally scoffs. Why would the man care that much about him?

"You scared the hell out of me kid."

Mustang leaves, leaving Ed to wonder why the man had been so scared.