Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Recovery

Chapter 1: Human Again

Pain. That was the first thing Alphonse Elric felt when he was restored to his human body. His lungs were screaming at him, breathe! And he was horrified to realize that he didn't remember how. He waited the next few moments in agony, expecting to suffocate, but his instincts finally sprung into action and his lungs filled with air. In. Out. He focused. In. Out. Good. Now that that was out of the way, he could worry about other things. He began to mentally assess himself.

He was hungry. Yeah, that was definitely the most obvious thing. He was starving. Pushing this from his mind, he continued. He wiggled his toes slightly. Good, very good! Well, the popping noise was probably not a good sign, but he wasn't paralyzed. He twitched his fingers. Yay! He opened his eyes slowly, took one look at the dimly lit ceiling, and shut them again with a groan. He was definitely not ready to deal with sight yet.

"...Al?" the whisper came. From his left, was it? Yes, the left. Hm, that voice, it was...oh. Right. Of course. He had almost forgotten, he wasn't alone in...was it a warehouse? He couldn't remember for certain. Well, he had to say something, or Ed would panic.

"Nn..." he slurred. Tongue, not functioning!

"Can you hear me?"

"Nn..nih...nii...su...sa...san...nii-san..." he struggled for the word, but was victorious. Though he wasn't entirely sure Ed could hear him, his voice was hoarse from disuse.

"Al. We did it. Al..." the blond whispered, gently lifting him to hold the terribly frail, emaciated boy in his arms. Al felt tears welling in his steel grey eyes, and knew he wasn't the only one beginning to cry.

Edward Elric smiled to himself as he carried his little brother, wrapped in his red coat, out of the abandoned warehouse. He glanced around carefully, ever alert in case anyone was watching. He stood silently in the doorway for a moment, tuning out Al's breathing for a moment and listening for any noise. There was nothing, only the soft chirping of crickets in the night. And so he set his sights on...

Shit. He flinched as he realized he had no plan of action. They were a mile out of Central city, he could dimly see the lights. That meant they were at least five miles from Central Military Headquarters. He swallowed nervously. He wouldn't be able to sneak Al into their dorm room. And if someone stumbled upon Al's armor and the transmutation circle in the warehouse...he shuddered. He needed to call someone. And there was no way in hell he was going to leave his newly restored, vulnerable brother alone in the warehouse. He had no choice but to carry him into the city and find a payphone. Well, at least he had some money in his pocket. He was sure of that.

So there was the foundation. So who would he call? He considered as he ran, trying not to jostle his sleeping brother. He knew Winry's number, but she was four days away by train (1). He didn't know Gracia's number. He didn't know any of his coworkers numbers. So that left calling headquarters itself. Was it even open? Who would he ask for?

The first question he couldn't answer. The second he already knew the answer to, and he didn't like it. He would have to ask for Fuhrer Mustang (2). There was no one else he trusted who would possibly be there so late. Well, Hawkeye might be there, but a secretary might not be willing to track her down if she wasn't in Mustang's office.

Alright. Find payphone, call Mustang. Then what? He could hardly trust that he would be safe just saying "Oh, hey, Fuhrer, I committed human transmutation on Al." There were always people listening. So what could he tell him? Something about success. Something about Al. Mustang wasn't stupid, Ed grudgingly admitted to himself. He would understand. He slowed as he came within full view of the city. Perfect. Central had payphones everywhere, it really did. He strode up to one, making sure to look casual as he did so. He stepped into the booth, gently setting Alphonse on the ground, watching and listening a moment to be sure he was still breathing. He supposed it made sense that he would sleep like the dead after being awake for so long, but better safe than sorry, after all.

The blond sighed as he slipped a few coins into the machine and rang the Fuhrer's office. He waited mere seconds before someone picked up.

"Fuhrer Mustang's office," the coolly professional voice spoke, and Ed almost dropped the phone in surprise. He hadn't expected Hawkeye to answer, he had assumed Mustang would have a secretary around, even so late at night.

"Riza, it's Ed, is Roy around?" he forced himself not to use last names or say "Colonel Bastard." He needed to be as discreet as possible. There was silence for a moment.

"Do you know what time it is, Fullmetal?"

"Sorry. But, uh, you know how me and Al were practicing skateboarding? Well, we didn't fall down this time!" Haha, no one would ever suspect him! He was a genius!

"What the hell, Fullmetal? Are you drunk?" Ed face-palmed. Idiot. Though, actually, now that he really thought about it, it was strange for someone to be skateboarding so late at night. And outside the city.

"We, uh, might of had a few drinks," he lied, hoping Mustang would catch him in it.

"You're underage." Ed growled. Okay, okay, so maybe the man was tired and not thinking straight.

"Can you pick us up?"

Silence.

"Please?"

Silence.

"Roy!" he whined.

"Where are you?" he heard him sigh.

"Payphone at the corner of," he peered at the sign, "Thirty-first and fifty-eighth."

"Alright, stay there. I'll send someone over."

"Thanks. Oh, and Roy?"

"Yes?"

"Cut the gas before you get here, Al's sleeping," he dropped the bomb. Even sleep-deprived, Mustang couldn't misinterpret that.

"Holy shit," he heard the man whisper, just before he hung up the phone.

(1) I'm just guessing here. I don't know how far away everything is, so I'm kind of making this up. But, with my thinking, Eastern HQ is one to two days from Resembool by train and so Central is four.

(2) It's not particularly important to the story to know how Mustang got to be Fuhrer. He just is. And he's newly appointed. I may give Hawkeye and the others promotions, not sure yet. Oh, and Mustang isn't missing an eye or blind or anything, and Havoc isn't paralyzed. Hughes is still dead, sorry. And ALL the homunculi are dead, because I don't want to deal with them, lol. I may change my mind about anime Wrath, but that's unlikely because it would unnecessarily complicate the story.

What'd ya think? Next chapter starts with Mustang's reaction (unless it turns out bad, then I'll do something else). Constructive criticism more than welcome!