Over the next few days, Edward spoke mostly to Alphonse. To anyone else, he gave mostly monosyllabic responses, if anything at all. The youngest Elric was the only one who had no clue what had been happening over the past few weeks, and Ed was hesitant to tell him. Half of him wanted to, so he could pull his brother out of the curious dark. The other half told Edward to keep the information away from his brother. Edward didn't want to spoil the probable wonderful image of their mother Al still held. Telling Al what their mother had done would likely shatter that thought forever.

It was about the third night after his mother's collapse that Edward found himself sitting outside his mother's room, on a chair, kicking his feet back and forth idly. He'd been that way for about an hour now, waiting for Mr. Rockbell to come out to tell him something about his mother. Ed didn't care what type of news it was, he just wanted to know something. He wanted to know what was wrong with her, why she had hit him, if she had apologized; anything. It didn't matter what at the moment.

Edward hardly looked up when he heard soft footsteps from down the hall. Within moments, he saw Mrs. Rockbell take a seat on the floor beside him. She offered him a cup of hot tea, which he silently declined with a shake of his head.

A few minutes passed in quiet, the only sounds being their breathing and the occasional muffled voices from inside the room behind them. Mrs. Rockbell broke the silence first. "I'm sorry about what's been happening to you, Edward," she murmured to him then sipped her tea. "It's such a terrible thing when a parent abuses their child. If I had known anything before now, I would have—"

Edward didn't wait for her to finish speaking. He slid off the chair and ran down the hallway, into the kitchen, and out the door into the late springtime warmth. It may have been comforting another day, but the sun on his cheeks only reminded him of the heat in his face that came after his mother's blows. He shivered at the memory. When he heard Mrs. Rockbell calling after him from the doorway, Edward ran off as quickly as he could in the direction of the river. He didn't want to hear what she would have done. He didn't want to hear what anyone else would have done if they'd known what had been happening. It was too late, anyway.

- - -

It was a few hours later when Edward returned to the house in great need of a bath. He'd gone swimming in the river for a little while, so his clothes were soaked. After swimming, he'd gone exploring, something he hadn't done in a while, and that had resulted in quite a bit of dirt sticking to him. He'd fallen a couple of times, upsetting the bruises on his torso and arms, gathering more dirt and mud on his body. There were a few cuts on his face and arms from branches and thorns.

So now, Edward walked up toward the front door of his house. He entered quietly, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence before he went to shower. He was going on his merry way, or as merry as he could be at that point in time, toward the stairs when a sudden bit of conversation stopped him.

"How long would you say she has?" It was Pinako speaking. Ed could smell the tobacco from her pipe, filling the house with a warm, sweet smell.

There was a deep sigh that belonged to Mr. Rockbell. "A few weeks, if she's lucky," he mumbled, but even then his voice was deep and loud enough that Edward could hear him without trouble.

A minute or two of silence almost convinced Edward that they were done talking, or knew he was out there so had silenced themselves, but Mrs. Rockbell spoke up before he moved on, leaving them to their grown-up discussion. "Do you know what she has, dear?" she asked her husband. Edward could imagine her touching Mr. Rockbell's arm as she spoke, concern lighting her eyes.

The man was quiet as he considered. "No, I don't. I've tried to think of everything it could be, but her symptoms are so few, and so strange. Whatever it is, it isn't good."

Edward's bottom lip trembled. His mother was dying. Why? Why was this happening? First had been his father leaving, and now his mother was dying. Even as he heard Mrs. Rockbell asking her husband "how they would tell the boys," Edward stood, frozen in place, unable to move or think past the fact that his mother was going to die very soon.

It was only when he felt Winry's hand on his shoulder was he startled out of his trance-like state. He turned quickly to face her, surprising her a little from the way she jumped. She looked even more astonished to see how dirty he was, and all the cuts on his arms and face. Edward didn't care, though. He quickly threw his arms around Winry's shoulders and started to cry.

Winry seemed puzzled for a few moments before Edward felt her arms go around him in return. Moments later, he felt someone else place their hand on his back. Mrs. Rockbell started speaking to him, but Edward blocked her out. When he tried to run away again, he ran only into firm arms. Ed made a small, frightened noise before realizing Mr. Rockbell had grabbed him.

"Put me down!" Ed said loudly, struggling to get away.

Mr. Rockbell took hold of Edward's arms in a firm hold, though the man was careful not to upset the bruises on his skin. "Just calm down, Edward," he demanded sternly. Edward continued to cry, head down and eyes shut tightly. "Calm down. We need to get you cleaned up."

"I heard what you said!" Edward cried out, lifting his hands to cover his face. "About my mom."

Everyone else was silent for a few moments until Mr. Rockbell spoke up again. "Let's clean you up some, Edward, and then we'll talk about what you heard. Okay?"

Edward was quiet for he couldn't tell how long, deciding whether or not to push for his way or listen to Mr. Rockbell. After a few more moments, he nodded a little. "Okay," he said in a little voice, hardly audible to even himself. He started to try to rub the tears out of his eyes when he felt someone pull them away from his face. Ed looked up and saw Mrs. Rockbell, kneeling before him with a kind smile on her face.

"Come on, Edward," she said softly, "and I'll clean up your scratches. How does that sound?" Her smile widened in what could have been an encouraging manner. It was encouraging, all right, encouraged the tears right out of Edward's eyes.

The people surrounding him murmured to each other before someone produced a handkerchief. Pinako, as she was about Edward's height, dabbed at his face carefully, wiping away his tears. "Go on, Edward, and let Sarah clean up your face." She placed the handkerchief in his hands then left abruptly. It was a moment before Mr. Rockbell followed her, shaking his head sadly.

"Mommy, what's wrong with Edward?" he heard Winry ask her mother quietly. Edward ignored her, immune to the words that could have possibly upset him another time.

Mrs. Rockbell quieted her daughter with a soft "Shh," and a gentle pat on her blond head. "Why don't you go check on Alphonse and keep him company while I tend to Edward's cuts?" she suggested, avoiding her daughter's question deftly.

Edward stood still, listening to them converse around him, talking as though he had disappeared. Though when Winry grabbed his hand, he was comforted in the slightest that she hadn't forgotten him.

"I want to stay with Edward, Mommy," she said defiantly. "He's sad. He needs a friend."

Both Edward and Mrs. Rockbell looked at Winry, astonished. The two then turned their faces away at the same time, one with a smile, the other with a frown. "Yes," Mrs. Rockbell said, holding her smile, "I suppose you're right Winry. Very well, you can come. But you have to help."

And so Edward was pulled away, doing nothing to resist, to the kitchen, unaffected by the words passing over his head. All he could hear still, was the conversation between the adults about his mother.

His perfect image of his mother was shattered into millions of tiny pieces, never to be whole again. But still, he didn't want her to die. He'd do anything to keep her with him in hopes of things suddenly being better again. Anything.