Ed shifted in the caravan. His ass was numb, and despite the precautions against the heat his metal leg burned against his flesh. He hoped it wouldn't cause an infection at his port. Winry would kill him.

He lazily shifted his gaze from his leg to the window. More sand. Wonderful. He stretched.

And looked beneath his bangs at the man he'd been avoiding, as much as one can avoid someone in a wooden box on wheels.

Mustang's eyes met his immediately, and his enigmatic mouth quirked. "Good morning."

Why did he have to blush? He looked back at the sand. He had more important things to worry about than arrogant politicians. The bastard's smile grew, Ed could see it from the corner of his eye, and he tried to forget just how desperate the man could kiss, how hot and ruthless and –

The caravan slowed, and Mustang eagerly craned his neck out the window, like a boy. "They call it the Jewel of the Desert," he said. "My mother said you could see it sparkle for days. Even the wall that surrounds it is gold." He huffed out a small laugh. "I thought she…Look, Ed."

She hadn't been lying. The evening sun lit the wall like fire, and more gold and silver outlines could be seen in it's embrace, with roofs of jade and sapphire and opal.

One of the girls tilted her chin in pride. "This is the Immortal City, the Jewel of the Desert. And it is only the least of our royal cities."

Ed couldn't work up enough interest in the braggart to make a smart remark. He was too enthralled by the sight of stoic, smirking Mustang in awe of anything. When Mustang eased back inside and grinned from ear to ear, Ed could only return the grin. "I'm lucky to be able to see it."

Ed's grin faltered a bit when he remembered Roy's blindness. "Has your sight returned fully, then?"

"Of course." He was lying. There was no indication, no tell, but Ed could feel it in his gut that this grinning idiot was lying to him, and for some reason it cut him to know that Mustang's view of this stupid city was in any way marred.

"The opal…" Gods, was he really going to do this? He snuck a look at the preening women, so proud of the city as if they'd even laid a hand to build it. Maybe Central wasn't the prettiest capital, but Amestris was just as beautiful as this artificial claptrap. "The opal roof in the center…the colors are dancing with the sunlight. I've never seen roofs like this, round like bells. And topaz, jade…every precious stone you can imagine has been cultivated and made to top buildings of gold and silver. And I can just make out what must be…thousands of archers, all perched along this golden wall."

"Our nation's finest," one woman announced. "You are fortunate you make this travel with us, otherwise this might be your last view."

"I'm glad you work so tirelessly to promote tourism," Ed sneered, but privately his heart twisted. Had Al needed to out-run thousands of arrows? Had one caught him? The desert was so vast, would he even know if his brother had succumbed?

A warm squeeze on his hand brought him back to the present. The sun had begun to set behind the bejeweled city, but he could still make out Mustang's face. It was as blank as usual.

Was he writing what he wanted to see there?

"When will we arrive?" Roy pulled his hand back and brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

"Two more days, if we make haste," the woman on his left said.

Ed almost jumped out into the desert. Two more days. He'd had enough traveling in his life, he decided. He was too old for cramped living conditions, numb asses, and traveling companions that compelled him to spout poetry about roofs of all things.

Al, if you're alive, I swear I'll kill you.

Alphonse Elric did not particularly enjoy sitting still. He always felt the clock ticking away, reminding him of all the things he'd left to do. He'd lost his body for years, and he had far too much to make up for to just sit around.

He shifted in the small hotel chair, and winced as it creaked beneath his weight. Ran Fan blinked in the bed, and immediately shot upright.

"Shh." Al knew better than to touch her as she adjusted to her surroundings – he didn't particularly feel like having his arm wrenched off – but he spoke to her in the calm, serene voice he used to lure stray cats out of the streets. "Your arm is infected. We're still at the hotel."

"We need to go. They'll find us."

"I've already told you. We need a doctor." And she would get two automail mechanics. What was taking them so long?

"I'll be fine."

He looked at her shoulder, where her automail should have been. The area around the port was still red, blistered, and oozing. "And will the baby?"

Her lips compressed into a small, thin line, but he didn't take her anger to heart. He'd grown up with his brother, after all. Ed. Ed was going to kill him once he heard about all of this, if he hadn't already.

He'd known this would be an international incident the moment he'd agreed to do it, but he knew his brother would worry. Ed worried about him like it was his job, and he appreciated it, really, but he'd almost enjoyed the freedom in the East.

"If we're sent back to Xing it won't matter if the baby is safe or not," she finally said. She swung her legs off the bed and stood. "I will be fine. The baby will survive. We are strong."

She swayed a bit on her feet, and Al lifted her back into bed. She was about as strong as a kitten, and Al frowned when he realized her skin burned into his. A fever had already set in.

"Shh. My friend will heal you, and we'll leave as soon as you can walk. I trust her with my life."

A knock sounded at the door, and Al sighed with relief. "They're here."

But of the two women, only one was whom he'd expected.

He'd been betrayed.

Apparently "making haste" meant traveling through the very sun. Ed wiped his brow with a scowl.

He needed to remove his leg.

He didn't want Mustang to watch.

Of all the stupid, immature, prideful moments of his life. Ed nearly laughed at himself. He nearly said, a thousand times, "Hey, old man, pull over. I gotta take this leg off before it burns me alive."

But he didn't want to him to see.

All this time, and he thought he'd finally come to grips with it, had finally accepted his body. Hell, he'd gotten his damned arm and his brother back. It was greedy to hope for any more.

It wasn't that he felt ashamed of the automail. He'd come to love it, actually. Great for getting through crowds. A little stomp here and there never really hurt anyone, well, except maybe perhaps their toes but really, they should be moving them at a faster pace anyway. And it wasn't like anyone would call out a poor, crippled young man for needing to be somewhere.

Well. Not often, in any case.

No, he liked his leg. He just hadn't quite adapted to taking it off.

It's only been over a decade now, he scolded himself.

Hot, hot, searing hot, he bit his lip against a yelp as the caravan bounced over a rock.

Mustang stretched and knocked on the caravan, which slowed to a halt. "I'm terribly sorry," he drawled. "But I feel unwell. Perhaps we could rest?"

"We are scheduled to arrive…" the woman trailed off as Mustang doubled over with a wince and a groan. "Ahh…yes, yes, we'll camp for today." She shouted to the driver in Xingese, and both women left the caravan to set up the tents.

"It's like you're a professional liar."

Mustang's eyes glinted with humor. "Come to my tent."

Despite his agony, Ed's mouth went dry. "I…"

"You need help." The older man smirked. "I'm quite helpful, you know."

"Then maybe you can help put up the tents." The caravan had grown even smaller during their conversation, and Ed needed Mustang to leave before he did something stupid like climb on top of him and give them both third degree burns.

"I'm serious. My tent." He jumped out of the caravan like a cat and looked over his shoulder. "That's an order."

Ed meant to counter with the fact that Mustang had no more authority to sling around orders, but he was a bit mentally preoccupied by his leg being on fire and also some commands he might like to hear whilst in Mustang's tent.

"Damn it, Al."

"Damn it, Al, open the door," Winry muttered against the door jam. "We're here to help."

She'd told Hawkeye not to come, but apparently ordering around a general wasn't so easily done. The general pulled out a pin from one of her pockets and efficiently picked the lock, as if this was how she opened doors every day, and just as efficiently slid the pin back into her pocket.

"Thanks."

Hawkeye nodded curtly and strode into the room.

"Good evening, Alphonse."

Al, faultlessly polite, returned her greeting before turning his furious eyes onto Winry. "You promised to only tell Pinako."

"We had a guest," she said. "And you can trust the general."

She tried not to jump when she saw Ran Fan in the bed, obviously pregnant and quite unwell. She muttered something and Al rushed to the bed to soothe her. His hand brushed her dark hair away from her face.

"You can't trust anyone." He narrowed his eyes at Hawkeye. "Tell me where we first met."

"At the Rockbells, while Edward recovered from his injuries." Hawkeye spoke carefully. "Alphonse, what do we need to know? What's happened?"

He held up a finger and turned to Winry. "Where did we go fishing as kids?"

"The Blackbury's pond, but we never caught anything but old tires."

Al's shoulders relaxed, but the anger still remained. "I asked you to come alone for a reason. She's not getting dragged into this, you understand? We're going to Crete and she's going to live a normal life."

"I came here to help you, but I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

"Just help her heal." He crossed his arms. "I need to talk to Ed."

Of course. She was only ever good for repairs, it was always Ed Al wanted to confide in. She looked at Ran Fan's festering wound and frowned. Any medicine she could give for the infection might harm the child, but not giving anything could mean death. She administered a mild antibiotic and fever reducer and set about boiling water for cleaning the wound.

"Ed is in Xing, looking for you." She tried not to sound too bitter about it.

Al froze, and the expression on his face chilled her. "Xing."

She nodded.

He shook his head. "If you thought there were things wrong with our country before, if you thought things were rotten…Xing makes it look like paradise, do you understand? We need to get him out now."

Ed limped to Mustang's tent.

It was, of course, a horrible idea. And, he told himself, it wasn't because he'd been ordered to do so.

It was because that rat bastard had conspired with everyone else to leave his tent wrapped up in the caravan, and he had tried for approximately five minutes to remove it before the pain in his leg overcame his pride.

"You win." He slumped in the entrance to the tent. "I'm all yours."

Mustang was not as pleased to hear that as he'd thought. The man glared at him. "Sit down."

Ed complied. "Why are your gloves on? I'm pretty sure there's no draft in here."

"Take off your pants."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Real suave, M—"

Mustang's gloved hands undid Ed's belt, and quickly unbuttoned his pants. Ed shut his eyes as the man's knuckles brushed against him, but Mustang had other plans and pulled his pants down to his waist.

"Thank god you aren't wearing those damn leather pants," he muttered. He knelt before him, but before Ed could really fantasize about him in that position Mustang unlaced Ed's boots and pulled them off. He slid Ed's pants down until they reached Ed's ankles, and Ed kicked them off.

He should really be protesting more, he thought.

"Now," Mustang sighed. "How do I take it off?"

"Take…" Ed moved his leg away. "It's fine."

"It's burning my hands through my ignition gloves. Did the gate take part of your brain away along with your alchemy? Do I push here?"

Ed turned his head away. "Push the two buttons and twist."

"Ah." The leg came off with a pop and a snick. Mustang sounded far too satisfied with himself. "First try."

"Yes, you're a natural at de-legging people. Congratulations."

The tent was silent for a moment.

"Ed."

"Mustang."

He studied the flap of the tent. It fluttered a bit, and the breeze felt like heaven against his sweat soaked skin.

He couldn't bring himself to look at Mustang. He felt beyond naked, beyond vulnerable, and if he'd just been allowed to be in his own tent…he likely would have burned his hands to hell taking the leg off.

"Ed…"

Mustang had seen him like this before, after all. Worse. He'd seen him sans arm, sans leg…he'd seen the remnants of the human transmutation…he'd seen him defeated, torn apart with grief because he could transmute miracles with just his hands but he couldn't save the life of one little girl.

"My sight is atrocious."

Ed blinked.

"Oh, I can see clearly enough, I guess. But the colors are almost all gone. It's why I always dress in black and white. It's all I can see." Ed finally turned to look at him, and Mustang smiled sardonically. "I almost forget to miss it, until days like today."

"The city," Ed murmured.

Mustang shook his head. "I've seen that city in my head a million times. There was nothing that would compete with the vision my mother created for me. But tell me…"

Ed raised his eyebrows.

"The wall," Mustang smiled. "Was it gold like your hair, or gold like your eyes?"

"Gold like your wedding ring," Ed laughed. "Is that how you seduce people? Corny lines like that?"

The lights in his eyes changed, the glint became edgier, more dangerous, but Roy still smiled. "You already know how I seduce people, Edward."

His stomach tightened in anticipation, but Mustang began setting up their cots. "We need to rest while we can. I have a feeling we won't be able to relax in Xing."

"Really? I have a feeling I'm going to wring Ling's neck until he lays off my brother."

"As always, your skill for diplomacy astounds me." Roy filled a small portable basin with water and began to wash, and Ed watched shamelessly as Mustang stripped down bare. "I'd like to avoid a war if at all possible. It really lessens my election chances."

"Uh huh."

Roy handed the basin and a clean cloth to him, and reclined in his own cot. "It might be weeks before the emperor even mentions your brother. Politics move slowly in Xing."

Ed slowly unbuttoned his shirt. "I can be patient, to a point."

Roy watched, his gaze dropping with Ed's fingers, until the shirt fluttered to the floor.

The underwear he tugged off quickly, proud that he managed not to snag it on his automail port.

His erection curved towards his stomach, and he heard Roy swallow. Finally, a reaction.

But Mustang closed his eyes and turned in his cot.

It hurt more than it should have. Ed pressed his lips together and laughed quietly at himself. It had just been a while, that was all. It had been a while and Mustang was a good-looking guy, and they were thrown into close proximity.

There was no reason to read anything else into all of this.

He finished washing and let the water evaporate from his body as he settled to rest. He shut his eyes and determined to get his priorities in order.

"It's not you."

Ed opened his eyes. They needed to be open in order to roll them, after all. "Yeah, I'm pretty aware that it's all you."

"I'm not a fan of complications."

Ed snorted. "You're the most complicated guy I know."

"Then you see my dilemma." Roy's voice was wry, but Ed felt a twinge of sympathy. The way Ed felt about his leg, Roy felt about himself. And as much as he'd accomplished, Ed couldn't even tell him truthfully after hearing tales about Ishval that he was wrong to feel that way.

The fact that Ed knew that about him, he supposed, was akin to lying there with his leg thrown in the corner. He was vulnerable. And if Ed hated vulnerability, then he could only imagine how Mustang felt. The man called to mind one of Al's cats when it fell off his kitchen counter. The inherent dignity as it licked its paw and regally strolled over to its food dish, as if it had all been a master plan.

Roy possessed that same inherent dignity, and Ed sensed he could possibly tear it to shreds by virtue of knowing him well enough.

"You remind me of Al's cat," he muttered.

"He has several." The bastard spoke as if he wanted clarification.

"You remind me of all of them."

A pause. "I get that a lot, you know."

"Of course you do."

"I don't even care for them."

Ed didn't point out that most cats hated other cats. "Good night, Mustang."

"Good night, Fullmetal."

Ed stared at the sunlit tent roof for hours, and he suspected his roommate did the same, but he had too much pride to look. When gentle snores finally echoed in the tent he allowed his eyes to droop.

They would be in Xing soon, and he could finally fix this entire bizarre understanding and go home. Ling was a reasonable, if slightly odd guy. He didn't think it would take weeks to convince him to forgive Al for whatever he thought he did.

And then he could go home. To his wife and business and…and what? And quick trysts in impersonal motel rooms?

He sighed. It was good Mustang wasn't looking for complications, because he was beginning to sense that he himself had begun longing for them.