Ed was beginning to be really glad that Mustang had introduced him to the glories of deep heating rub.

Although it really did nothing for the deep soreness that encased his while body, it distracted him from it- cooling off his feverish body and leaving him feeling icy like a glass of water after mint gum, even if his skin was still hot and sore to the touch.

Along with the physical ministrations, the overwhelming scent was miraculously helping as well. Though it practically seared off his nose hairs, it also relieved him of the bitter scent of iron and blood that had lingered in his sinuses for so long he had forgotten the sweet smell of clean air. Even if it was pungent and overpowering, it felt good to smell something other than the bloody remnants of what Hohenheim had done.

How long had he been here?

How much time had he spent lazing around in Mr. Hughes' guest room when he should have been out there looking for the stone and ways to right his wrongs?

It was hard to tell how many days had been wasted. He spent more time asleep than awake, and any time he did spend conscious left him longing to fall back to sleep. He assumed it had been only a day or two, but time had become almost a foreign concept in the midst of his exhaustion- a blurry line he followed but didn't quite understand.

Mustang and Hughes had asked him questions several times so far, much to his displeasure. Questions meant reliving it, questions meant seeing those hands reaching out to him with heavy swings fueled by seething anger all over again, and questions meant acknowledging that those memories were real, not just some sick joke he had rationalized in his head.

And after the questions, inevitably came the hands. Hands reaching out to him, closing in on him, coming to hurt him and break the last parts of him still left intact, coming to hit him choke him burn him bruise him I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry- and then there was soft, soft and gentle touches, leaving him confused and with flutters of fleeting anxiety in his stomach. Warm and gentle hands stroking his hair, tending to his wounds with slight touches and worry-filled words that lilted through his ears and left him almost forgetting what it was in the first place that had made him so upset.

Hands that he thought only lived to hurt him were hugging him, telling him it was alright and that everything would be okay, and although he had suspicions, Ed didn't even care if they were lying at that point because the promises gave him something to cling to, something to quell the worries that always nagged in the back of his mind and scratched at the walls of his chest, something to live for.

He had almost forgotten how much he missed the simple warmth of another. He hadn't even realized it was something he was missing until he had it back again, and now he could hardly imagine how he lived so long without it. Then again, his little brother, his sweet, innocent baby brother could no longer feel those hugs or the fingers running through his hair, and it was all his fault. He didn't deserve the luxury of comfort when he had forced his brother into that hollow shell that didn't even have the choice.

He shook the thoughts away, pressing the palm of his hand against his forehead as if he could push them away from the outside.

Only then did he realize how restless he felt, like a coil tightening around his spine and begging him to move, to get up and do something, to run away from the memories that plagued his mind and tortured his sleep and leave his head behind.

He had never missed his mother more in his life.

Overcome with the sudden overwhelming need to get out of bed, he latched onto the headboard with his automail hand, keeping his flesh hand wrapped tightly around his broken ribs as they ground against each other while he heaved himself into a sitting position.

He eased his feet to the floor, pushing himself off of the bed and stumbling a few times before straightening himself out. He took a few shaky steps toward the door, his knees threatening to buckle with every movement. Hobbling across the room and wincing as his skin pulled against the steri-strips keeping the wounds on his back from splitting open again.

Despite how being in bed was really nice on his aching body and how simply taking a few steps left him panting in pain, he just needed to move.

His hand grazed the handle, moving to open the door, when it opened, swinging out into the hallway and nearly knocking him off of his feet. Suddenly he was falling, air rushing past his ears, bittersweet weightlessness encasing his body until it suddenly stopped, and those same warm hands were holding him upright as he was thrown against a chest that went rigid with surprise.

"Jesus, Ed! You scared the crap out of me!" Rumbled a deep voice next to his ear. "What are you doing up? You're going to hurt yourself."

Ed looked up to who had saved him from toppling face first into the ground, seeing a face shrouded with black hair and shadows circled concerned grey eyes.

He immediately let go of the man's shirt that he had impulsively grasped onto during his fall, a faint flush dusting his cheeks.

"S-sorry, I just, I just need a minute." He stammered out, willing himself to let go of Roy and recommence his destination-less journey around Hughes' house. Gingerly padding down the hallway, he was about to round a corner when Roy stepped in front of him, laying his hands on his shoulders and looking down at him with a look that Ed could only decipher as bewildered disapproval.

"You shouldn't be walking around so much, you'll tear your back open again." He protested, the concern in his voice masked with chastisement.

Ed shook his head, running a frantic hand through his hair and letting out a shuddering breath.

In that moment, as he stood with his feet practically bouncing in their places and his heart fluttering in his chest, he couldn't find the words nor an explanation as to why he needed to move and he needed to move now. Considering he couldn't quite understand it himself, he doubted Mustang would either.

So even when he gathered up a sentence with the most coherence he could muster, it still came out something like-

"Can't, I-I just, I gotta."

From the look on Mustang's face, it had indeed made much more sense in his head than it did out loud.

He gripped his hair in frustration, letting out a shaky sigh through his teeth. It was futile to even attempt to explain further, his mind much too blurry and buzzing to even find the words. Frigid hands gripped his lungs and forced the air from his chest, leaving him with nothing but a whisper of what should have been a deep breath.

Drops of biting sweat rolled down his back, stinging the still burning wounds. Everything had been going fine, everything around him was still and calm to the point where even the atmosphere itself seemed to be stagnant, yet something unknown felt deeply wrong and his mind seemed to want make sure he knew that, blasting it through his head on repeat like a broken record.

All of a sudden and all at once, the simple restlessness that had prompted him to tap his toe had blown up into what felt like hellfire sprouting in the pit of his stomach and slowly eating him from the inside out.

He brushed the hair away from his face with a trembling hand, continuing his trek down the hallway, muttering quiet nothings to himself that came out more as whimpers than anything else. Roy quickly caught up to him, having a great advantage in his unscathed and healthy state, largely opposite to Ed's beaten and battered self.

Something that appeared like understanding flickered behind his eyes as he walked next to the boy, arms held out hesitantly as if Ed might topple over at any given moment.

"What's going on, kid? What's got you so worked up?" He asked gently, keeping a safe distance from Ed, being near in order to offer him his presence and support while staying far enough away so as to not make him feel trapped.

Ed shook his head in response, his breath quickening and his brow pinching together with anxiety and confusion.

"I-I, I don't, I don't know." He murmured, sweat trailing down his paled face with his eyes darting around uneasily. Roy held up a placating hand to the boy, calm concern evident on his face.

"Okay, you're okay, just take a deep breath, alright?" He soothed, following Ed closely as he continued to hobble down the hallway and scrutinizing his movements as if to make sure he wasn't hurting himself further.

Ed tried to listen to the man, he really did, but the more he tried to breathe the more it felt like he couldn't- as if his diaphragm was slowly crushing his lungs while he could do nothing to stop it.

Before he knew it he was hyperventilating, panic rising in his chest as he was hit hard with the realization that there was nothing he could do to stop it, nothing he could do to simply breathe.

He only vaguely see Mustang's eyes widen from the corner of his vision as he collapsed gingerly onto the floor in the hallway, trembling incessantly with breaths that came in short tangled gasps.

He could only wonder ceaselessly how the blinding feeling encasing him felt so alive while simultaneously make him feel so close to death, extant like burning embers creeping up from his gut and clawing at the walls of his chest.

Everything was too much to handle, simply being alive in that moment was overwhelming, and he couldn't breathe.

"Edward! Listen!"

He jerked back to reality at the loud tone, only then registering the two firm hands on his shoulders and the deep grey eyes staring into him with concern.

"Breathe with me, okay? Deep breath in, deep breath out." Roy said, taking a breath in example.

Ed managed to take a shaky breath in, cooling off the burning in his lungs before letting it out with a shudder.

Following Roy's example, he took in another slightly deeper one, exhaling choppily as his breath caught in his throat.

Slowly but surely, his inhales grew longer and steadier- his heart still hammered in his chest and his chest still ached with the effort, but he focused instead on the gentle hands on his shoulders and the quietly muttered words of reassurance that broke through the wall of hysteria.

"W-What's happening to me?" He whimpered, looking up to Mustang with vision that blurred with tears he hadn't even realized were falling down his face.

Roy brushed them away with his thumb, setting his hand softly against Ed's cheek.

"You're having a panic attack, Ed." He explained, pushing the hair away from Ed's face. "You're okay, just take a deep breath."

Ed closed his eyes, rubbing his hands together in attempts to ground himself and breathing in as deeply as he could muster, forcing himself not to shake as he let it out.

The air in his lungs softened the edges of the sharp dread within him, giving him just enough strength to continue breathing in a somewhat even pattern.

Roy joined him on the ground, pressing his back against the wall and sliding down to sit next to Ed, snaking an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.

"Are you feeling any better now, kid?" He asked softly, running his hand up and down on Ed's arm to help calm down the last bits of panic remaining within him.

Ed just nodded into his chest, having drained himself of the little energy he had in the first place. He had calmed significantly at that point, wanting nothing more than to curl up into a ball next to Roy and drift off to sleep.

He didn't understand what had brought on the attack, especially considering he had never had one before- he hoped this one would be the first and last, he would never wish something like that on his worst enemy.

As he laid there next to Roy, only one thing stood out amongst the mess that was his head.

It had been a long time since he felt so safe.