If there was one thing he'd missed, it was the feeling of being needed.

Ever since Edward had found himself in Europe, woke up in another world, cast away and abandoned there to that hell, he'd been the walking dead, relying on the care of the living to keep from fading away entirely. He was the one that needed. From Hohenheim, from Alfons.

God, Alfons.

The other man could try to tell Edward how much he needed him and loved him all he wanted, but Edward couldn't buy it. Edward was the needy one in that relationship, always had been, and his helplessness was just killing Alfons faster than the rot in his lungs already was.

Alfons was probably better off without him, still back in Munich with his family and friends.

But Riza needed him. Honestly, truly needed him.

Edward had needed being needed like that like a drowning man needed air.

He felt safe there, lying on her bed with her, holding her and petting her hair as she drifted off to sleep. She'd been woken by another nightmare, and he'd come running like a faithful guardian, had settled on the bed next to her and scooped her up in his arms. She'd clung and gradually settled back down as he hummed quietly, petting her hair and whispering assurances like his mother used to do for him and his brother so many years ago.

Riza needed him. And Edward needed that.

She was sleeping finally, at least she seemed to be, breath evened out and her whole body relaxed against his. Of all the people he knew, she was the last he expected to have pressed against him, but he didn't mind. She needed him, and he loved her. The crazy paths that had led them around this way didn't really matter, not by the dim light of the waning moon through the window blinds. During the day, they would deal with those.

"Edward?"

He opened his eyes, not really sure when he'd closed them and glanced down at her. She peeked out at him from behind her hair, head twisted slightly against his chest to look at him. "You can go back to your own bed if you want."

She always did that. She needed him, but she'd been so conditioned to never need that she tried to duck it, avoid it, never let on how much she needed. But she couldn't hold up that facade for long. She was too tired, too broken, too... old. Not physically, but the same way he was.

Edward felt ancient.

He smiled and kissed her forehead, resuming petting her hair. "Don't wanna," he whispered, shifting their positions a bit to hold her easier without the strap of his false arm bothering her too much. "Go back to sleep, I'll be here when you wake up."

Riza tensed in his arms, then relaxed, clinging harder. For a moment, he thought she might be shivering. He shushed her gently, humming under his breath and holding her tightly. "I'm not going anywhere, Riza."

"Thank you." He could hear the attempts to keep from crying in her voice, recognized that sound from his own in Europe far too many nights. That feeling of being half-alive did terrible things to a person's mind.

His hand drifted up from her shoulders to her chin, lifting her face to him and he leaned down, kissed her cheeks , noticing her attempts had failed rather spectacularly. "Sleep now. You're safe here."

They both were.

He held her close and sang her to sleep.