It was at the dusk of the fourth day that Roy Mustang abruptly awoke from his slumber. While nightmares and the like were by all means commonplace to the dreadfully overworked Colonel, it was this night in particular that seemed out of the ordinary. Rather than being stricken by poat-Ishval traumas or night terrors, Roy Mystang's eyes opened only to sate a growing curiosity. This night, he had dreamed of a boy with deep red eyes. It was the strangest thing, something that he, by no means, could understand. He believed himself to be the man who gave answers, not begged for them. But at this present moment, he hadn't a counter. Not a single argument in favor of returning to sleep and getting to the morning faster. So, with a sigh, his feet touched the floor as he pulled the covers away. With a tired jaunt, he walked down the quiet hallway, and knocked slightly on the door to Edward's room. The current resident opened the door in kind.

Contrary to Roy's current state, the boy was wide awake, glasses placed gently upon his face and eyes darting upwards to ascertain who was at his door. "Colonel Mustang. What brings you here at this hour? Is everything alright?"

Reluctantly, Roy began to talk. "Yeah, everything's fine, kid. I just... I had something to ask you about." With a bemused glint in his eyes, the boy permitted the Colonel to enter his current room. The two sat there, Roy in a chair and the boy on the bed, a thick, nighttime silence between them. "So what did you want to ask me about, Colonel? Is it about what I said earlier?" Roy, after taking a moment's pause, began to speak his mind. "Listen. What you said, about that boy, you know, the one with the eyes."

To this end, Matthew was genuinely confused. Of all the things Mustang could have been asking about, this was his topic of choice. This was what kept him awake at night. "You mean Red?"

"Yeah... that's the one." Roy spoke, his voice still thick with sleep. The boy lowered his head in thought, and continued on their conversation. "Is there anything in particular you wanted to know?" He adjusted his glasses, waiting for the man's response. "Actually, yes. This boy, Red. Just who was he? I'm aware that he was sent to a hospital-"

"Institution, Colonel." the boy interjected.

"And that he was killed due to some less-than-ethical practices, but... I'm just not getting the bigger picture here." The boy remained silent for many second, thinking carefully of his next words. There was much information to choose from, but he had just the story. "So... you want to know why it happened." Roy spoke without missing a beat. "Yes. That's exactly what I'd like to know.'

"Incidentally, there are many aspects to this story, it... isn't an easy one to tell." The man nodded, willing him to continue. "First of all, this place was unlike other medical facilities. It was often compared to a dumping ground of sorts. With how easy it is to find corrupt doctors and surgeons, mental illness can easily be faked or created. Many powerful people who found out about a child born out of wedlock, who were remarried, who found their child to be a burden on their social life or career... For those who escaped the death penalty, or who were framed for a crime... this institute was the place. Tell me, Colonel. Have you ever heard the term 'the gallows make the gallows slave'? It basically means that this hospital was built to create mental illness, rather than treat it. To put it shortly, very few of the patients were actually sick when they arrived.

"You're serious?" Mustang blurted out. "That's horrible. Why would a place like that exist?"

"Who knows. Maybe it was just one facility gone corrupt, or just one rogue doctor. Perhaps it was the military. But my guess is that the Cerebral Alchemist had something to do with it. I have reason to believe that he was granted funding by the government to proceed with these experiments for the sake of dissecting the adolescent mind, and that Edward is simply a continuation of his research. Red, in my opinion, was actually the most sane one, out of everyone who ever came to that place. He was kind and levelheaded, and formed the deepest bonds with people. He was... a dear friend." I believe... that Red, also, was a part of this experiment. So when he tried to escape..."

"They killed him." The boy nodded. And to that end, Roy Mustang could not find the words. At his silent demeanor, the boy continued. "Many people were brought to the borderline of madness here, many people slaughtered in the name of science. I won't forgive myself until I've killed every person involved in these heinous acts. Not until I've avenged them. That-"

"Is why you're helping us." The boy smiled. "While that was my primary goal, now it seems I've gained a bit of personal investment. Perhaps I've never spoken to him, but I think quite highly of Edward." He said as he rose from his bed. "I'm going to get some tea. You should go to sleep, Colonel." Roy glanced at the clock, cursing when he saw the time. "Yeah, you're probably right about that. But Matthew?" He beckoned the boy who was at the door.

"What was this place called?" And to that end, the boy replied in kind, with a grim glint in his tired eyes.

"Clover Institute."

Edward Elric turned his head almost subconsciously at the beckon behind the door. He sat alone, nearly motionless upon his firm and cozy mattress. His once-golden eyes now shone a dull ocher, even in the daytime light of the room. After a curt knock at the door, the man entered the room as well. He began softly, kindly, a persona which belonged only to those on strings. "Well, good morning, Gold. I trust you slept well?"

The boy, E_-^*%$*^%#*^%-Gold could almost understand what the strange man was saying to him. He had said it so kindly; certainly, it must be something good, something as nice as his careful tone. He repeated slowly the last two words Grimsley had spoken, as if saying them for the first time, with a fat tongue and numb senses. The man looked upon those dull eyes with elation. "Yes, Gold, good! That's right, 'slept well'." He embraced the boy in a warm swoop of arms. "I slept well too… as did everyone else… because we knew that you were finally here with us, that you were safe. It made all of us so... happy." He held Gold tighter. He said in a whisper, he said in a tight and longing whisper, "so very…happy…"

E_-^%$*^%#*^%-Gold wasn't sure what to think about anything, really. But this man was warm, and his heart seemed honest… So he decided, with a peaceful shut of eyes, that this was someone he could trust, that this was his fa-

A blank image.

He knew he was safe, sheltered even as he took in the kind man's warmth. It was... a warm consolation that seemed familiar in the strangest of ways. He felt hazy with the thought that somehow he knew of this feeling, yet he could not recall when, or how he did. When did this cycle of forget and recal even begin? How long had he been resting here, in this ivory tower, in this place where everything stayed the same. He knew then that he wanted to speak. He knew the motions, he knew the thought as it passed through his clouded mind, and yet the words themselves seemed lost to him.

"Ha… have you…" his voice was soft as it was dumb. Grimsley's eyes widened as he took the boy by his shoulders, surprised and in awe. "What was that, friend? You have something to say?" the man smiled brightly, a flip in disposition that to the boy appeared almost natural, as if nothing had changed.

"H-Have…have you..." Still, words flew past him, just out of reach. The man stilled him in that same consolation. It was an almost bitter fragrance.

"Take it slow, Gold… take your time. There is no need to rush… I won't think any less of you."

Gold tried with his the best of his effort to speak his lucid mind through dull eyes and mouth, but with the other man's compassionate words, he decided, with expressionless discouragement, to drop it altogether. Maybe he would get the chance later… later... always later...it was always later. With that thought, he brought his head to the man's chest, and smelled that bitter fragrance once again. It lulled him into a somber and wakeless slumber. His eyes, golden, opened quickly, as if in sudden realization. He gasped. If only for that passing second, he knew the truth. But still, he was asleep. Words came and left in flocks of bluebirds. The sky, the sea, and that uniform he remembered so fondly.

Don't fall asleep.

This world is not yet over.

Don't fall asleep

You have more than lucid dreams.

Don't fall asleep

Because I won't be here tomorrow.

Dusk

Chapter 29

Tired Eyes

Roy Mustang was a tired man. He had not found any sleep at all. Not a wink, not a single glimpse of the lucid paradise. He had bags under his eyes in the most unattractive of places. He could have sworn that a grey hair was forming somewhere on his head and knew that such a thing was by far the most unattractive for a man of twenty-nine. How was he supposed to keep up his popularity when he was lacking proper sleep? Would there ever again be a chance of midnight rendezvous with blondes? Honestly, he didn't know. The only thing that mattered right now was getting his son home safely.

E_

From the very second his image faded, Roy's world was a distortion of his heart, a simple parody of its former glory. It had been five days, and he hadn't slept at all. As noticed by an overly attractive Riza Hawkeye, who was already used to stress and late nights, he hadn't been eating, either. He was a nervous wreck, with tussled hair and baggy eyes, and the palest skin in the world. He knew it. All of them knew it. His eyes were cold as he sighed into his warm cup of coffee.

E_

Riza emerged from her quarters, sitting beside of her commander. If anyone knew what was wrong with him, doubtlessly, it was her. She could tell how his eyes grew dimmer in every passing moment, and how he seemed to grow ever colder. She had refused to leave his side for any longer than a night's sleep, for when both of them were up again, she was right back with him, beside of him. More than anything, she wanted him to be 'okay'. She wanted both of them to be 'okay': Roy, and

E_

Riza Hawkeye was a tired woman. But she could never let him know it. She had to be strong for her Colonel, for everyone in the room. Because this was when he needed her most. Matthew emerged from his quarters as well, the soft pitter-patter of his footsteps resounding through wooden floorboards. His bare feet were cold on the floor, but he hadn't the mind to complain. He hadn't the stamina, either, because even with his skills with tracking his friends, he still could not find Alice. Not only that, Mikuru, to his knowledge, hadn't a clue, either. The poor girl hadn't seen Alice since she departed the previous morning. Curious as it was, the boy had run out of places to look for his eccentric friend. He had searched the coffee shop across the way, the pet store with a stuttering owner, a place called Marley's and just about everywhere else. No one could begin to understand his plight, because for the first time in six years, he hadn't a clue where she was. And for that, he was tired. Tired of playing games and tired of losing. If anything else, Matthew Tanner was a sore loser.

After begrudgingly deciding that the tea across the street was far too expensive, and with Havoc not finding any at the grocer, the boy decided, with a miserable breath, to drink Mustang's bland coffee. His wallet be damned. With a sigh, the boy sat down with his cup of coffee with the rest of the group, finding that no one else would be capable of starting up a conversation. With a roll of his tired eyes, and a sip of his ultra-creamy coffee, he decided to be the catalyst of conversation.

"Well…" his voice sounded even more tired than he had expected. "Sorry to say, Alice is nowhere to be found… I can't find her, Mikuru can't find her… it's all just one big mess, isn't it." He said, almost in contempt. He let out a breath, and pushed the coffee away from himself, unable to stand it;s tincture for another moment.

"Well, can we do this thing without her?" Hughes asked, taking off his glasses to rub at his tired eyes. The boy replied, despondent. "I cannot see much chance of success without her help. I've found myself to be rather useless by myself. She's the one who's good at storming castles, not me." He said flatly. "Plus… she has quite the stock of madness suppressant. Mikuru said that she can bring it to us herself, but it may take some time to find more… especially with Alice going off the map. I've tried to get a hold of the clinic, but…" he looked away.

"But?" Roy asked softly, quizzically. "But what? What's going on over there?" he looked to the boy for answers. Tired eyes meeting more. "Nothing." The boy replied, dismissive.

"Nothing? What do you mean 'nothing'?" Hughes, even at the brink of gloom, couldn't hide the worry and frustration in his voice. The boy continued without pause. "I mean what I say. Absolutely nothing is going on in that clinic… without Dr. Brunk, there was nobody left to run it, so… it was shut down shortly after we left. I went down there and- I saw it for myself. There is absolutely nothing left… nothing but boarded windows and dark, empty rooms."

"And the suppressant?" Riza asked.

"Gone. Grimsley probably took it all after he…" he paused. "Well… it needn't be said." He finished in a soft, forlorn whisper. The boy's eyes looked away, into his distastefully bland cup of coffee.

There was a long silence that passed through them. It was the sort of despondence that could not be banished by simple words of hope. They were doomed, and they knew it. It was Havoc who spoke next. It was he who dared break that daunting silence. "Well…? What now? Are we just gonna… sit here and wait... for the end?"

Another pause.

"With Grimsley as he is now, and with Alice nowhere to be found, I don't see how we can save him…" Matthew took a breath. "Of course, I won't stop until I've done everything I can for him, but sometimes…sometimes, that just isn't enough… But I would rather die than give up now."

And with their tired eyes, all of them silently agreed. Moments, silent moments passed as not a word was shared between the lot of them. Staccato bursts of frustration in his heart, Roy abruptly rose from his chair. He grabbed his keys off the table as he walked to the door with heavy steps. Riza eyed him suspiciously. "And where are you going?" She asked, suspicious. Roy opened the door with a distasteful sneer as Matthew eyed the cigarette in his pocket. "Out." he said sternly as the door slammed shut. A collective sigh gathered around them at the mahogany's resound. Hughes was the first to speak. "Roy's... taking this the hardest, I think." He murmured, watching the door with worried eyes. "And who can blame him? Ed is pretty much family at this point. To lose someone like that..."

"Can do a lot to a guy." Havoc supplied. "He's pretty messed up right now."

Matthew ran their words further. "And it's not just losing him, either. They're not exactly a hospitable group when it comes to their anarchist schemes. I'm sure he's pretty strong to have gone on for this long. If only we could get there sooner- If only we weren't so damned useless." Matthew said, a hand supporting his head. Hughes spoke up at that. "And just why not? We can try to save him, you know. We can try." Matthew looked at the man, beguiled but not amused in the slightest. "And how the hell are we going to do that? With your stellar idealism, Lieutenant Colonel?" At the silence of the adults, Matthew let out a deep, hollow laugh, one which held not an ounce of anything but desperation. He composed himself. "No, without the pills- we're just fodder to their games. We won't last a goddamn five minutes at the hands of Grimsley and that Lady Red."

Havoc lit a cigarette at the notion that Roy Mustang wasn't there to tell him otherwise. "And what about that broad? That Alice girl, where the hell is she?"

Matthew took a begrudged and arduous gulp of his coffee. "Beats me. But when I find her, we've got a lot to talk about."

Havoc scoffed. "Yeah? Like what?"

The boy replied abruptly. "Stuff."

A roll of eyes. "And how can you even talk to her? She seems..." he paused, as though unable to find the words. Matthew pulled out a cloth, making to clean his glasses out of habit, rather than necessity. "Insane? Ornery? Unpleasant? Delusional? Downright committable?" He narrowed his eyes as he put his cloth away. "Certainly, it would seem that all of those adjectives apply to the fullest degree. But not one of you know her like I do. None of you understand her like I do. He shared a glance with Hawkeye. "She's gone off the map... Why?" A pause. "Why do you think so?"

None of them had the gall to answer him. "Alice...is afraid. She was forced to retreat, saving only Miss Asahina and failing to protect everyone else. And no, not just Edward. Everyone else. If you think that's enough to drive someone crazy... the notion that you are responsible for the torture of another human being, that your shortcomings are the source of someone else's misery... imagine that number doubling, tripling, increasing exponentially at the cost of more and more lives." He shook his head. "See, Alice believes that the re-institutionalization of Miss DeVillier and-" Hughes stood at that, his chair clattering at the abrupt motion. He shouted. "What?! You mean that woman was-"

Matthew looked at the man, puzzled. "Well, yes. Were you not aware? I was certain that all of you would have figured as much. Well, it would seem that I left out that rather important detail and kept all of you in the dark. For my thoughtlessness, I apologize."

Riza's head rose. "But how was she captured? I was under the impression that Miss DeVillier was with Alice. Is that not true?" Havoc picked up his cup of coffee.

"It goes without saying... that Miss DeVillier did not want Alice, or Mikuru, for that matter, captured. Therefore, I was not surprised when she was found by the Military Police. To put it in absolute terms, Cynthia turned herself in to leave an opening for Alice and Mikuru to escape."

Havoc spoke at that. "So... what's going to happen to her now?" A simple response. "She escaped, and was captured. Naturally, a form of lobotomy is a likely outcome. That... with the fact Brunk is still missing raises quite a few red flags... for the hospitals, the Military Police, the media... and of course..." he stared at Hughes as he finished his statement. "... the Fuhrer."

The four of them turned their heads, sweat already forming on their heads. "You can't be serious!" Havoc yelled, taken aback. Riza lowered her head in thought. "Now that you mention it... it's only a matter of time until the Military gets involved. A State Alchemist brutally harmed, then captured by a shady organization..."

Hughes spoke next. "A group in colorful costumes planting bombs, stealing confidential files, harassing MPs..."

"A group of doctors and nurses murdered or missing... not to mention the commotion from news groups and politicians..." Riza added.

Matthew adjusted his glasses, taking out a napkin and tearing it into several pieces, setting them up like a timeline. "Indeed, one of these incidents as an isolated matter is nothing worthy of news. The population of Amestris is used to scandal. However, when you take these so-called 'isolated incidents' and line them up... it's only a matter of time until more people get involved. Red flag after red flag means that things aren't looking so good for Alice and I. I'm rather surprised that it took them this long... My theory is that the Military didn't want to get involved due to a lack of gain. Call it a 'conflict of interest'. But now that their beloved Fullmetal is off the map completely, it would seem that they're beginning to snoop around. What I'm saying is that the Military Police will likely find Alice before I do. And when that time comes..." he dropped a sugar cube into his coffee, watching as it dissolved into the blend.

Hughes spoke up. "What are you saying? You think they'll kill her? While that may be a possibility, I don't think that's very likely, considering the nature of this case. After all, she would be instrumental in leading them to Ed. You shouldn't worry about her."

The boy only laughed at that. "I shouldn't? You misunderstand me. Alice is more than capable of taking care of herself. If anything, the MPs are the ones who should be careful." Hughes looked at the boy with a snicker of his own. "What are you saying, that this girl can take on a whole brigade? Not a chance, kid."

He beamed. "That's exactly what I'm saying. You are well aware of the madness, yes? Of the aroma which surrounds Alice and I? Anyone infected with the Substance could stand against the MPs. Setting off bombs without a care, stabbing, shooting, burning the city to the ground, those infected are more than able. That includes Edward, and myself. I'll say it again: if Alice is found by the Military Police, I can assure you that they'll be in danger. As it stands, she is extremely unstable." And to that, Hughes was silent. A few moments passed before anyone spoke again. This time, it was Riza. "So what you're saying is that we have to find her first? Before her actions condemn you and everyone else involved?"

"Indeed, that is correct. And that isn't just for the MPs caught in the crossfire. She'll try to confront Grimsley on her own, and gain unwanted media attention. She'll be painted as the criminal, and be incarcerated for the disappearance of Edward Elric and Dr. Anne Brunk, as well as the clinic murders. It's best we find her before she does something stupid... again."

"Again?" Havoc inquired.

"Have you already forgotten about the hospital? While you may find this hard to believe, Alice is the one who orchestrated the entire thing. She predicted Grimsley and Lady Scarlett's plan of attack, and attempted to counter it. She even figured that I would call in the younger Elric brother. And until Edward himself arrived, all of her plans went off without a hitch. Even Alphonse's interference was part of her plan. It's the boy she finds the most unpredictable, as she had hoped he would put up a stronger fight. Unfortunately, she miscalculated. I, however, knew he would shut down when his brother, when anyone he cared deeply for was put in danger. Needless to say, his capture was partially my fault. I had hoped that Alphonse's safety would spur the boy into action... but in that regard, I, too, miscalculated. As for the rest, while I find her weapon to be bulky and distasteful, it seemed to work well enough. For such an irrational girl, she is incredibly crafty."

"You and her both." Havoc remarked. "Just what the hell happened to you guys to make you like this?"

Matthew looked to the side. "That is insignificant. What matters now is finding Alice and recovering Edward from the Pallet Group. The past is dead now... Anyway, we should begin looking for her immediately. While I had planned to let her find us on her own, we are running out of time... We will begin just as soon as the Colonel returns. Perhaps you should look for him, Lieutenant Hawkeye." He said with a glance in her direction. At the boy's suggestion, she took a final sip of her coffee, and rose to get her purse. "I had been thinking the same thing." She opened the door. "We'll be back soon." And with that, there were four.

Pitiful. She was absolutely pitiful. Entering her twentieth hour in isolation, Alice blew a leaf out of her hair. Indeed, from what happened the previous day, she hadn't left the tree. Yes, the tree right in Roy Mustang's back yard. Sure, she was hungry, but she certainly would rather starve than face her friends like this. So, after eating a few questionable berries and an apple she happened upon from a neighboring tree, she sighed to herself as she came to the same realization. Indeed, she was pitiful. Absolutely pitiful.

She sat alone with a scowl as she still plotted her next move. Needless to say, she was now a few trees short of an orchard, her nervousness and jitters growing with every leaf that blew in her face. All she had to do was get out of this tree and open the door and say something pitiful and empty, something that would earn forgiveness from the ones she loved.

But that was a lie. She wasn't that stupid. She wasn't that arrogant. Things certainly would not go that well. When she was in a good mood, when she was crazy and elegantly spontaneous, she could stand to bear such a cocky disposition, to be noble and proud all at once… yet, when her friendship was at stake, when her friends were at stake, words weren't so easy. Her heart be damned, she was scared. Matthew was her dearest friend. If he abandoned her, then… what?

Nothing, absolutely nothing. It would be game over for sure. Hand in her chips and face the gallows. She wanted to cry out at the unfairness of it all, but that would very well make everything worse, as she was hiding in the most unconventional of places. She reasoned that it would at least be good to stop saying these things aloud. But to some strange end, no one could hear her. It was as though she was all alone in this city.

"Damn. Better be quiet…" she felt something else in her hair, and with a slight tug, dislodged it from her flaxen mess. Or rather, her bird's nest. "This isn't working" she said with a groan. Now she tried to give her own consolation.

"Okay… I just need to go talk to him… He'll still like me, right? Right?" she asked… to no one, really. No one except for the birds that began flocking to the tree. She paused, almost as though waiting for a response. She groaned. "Just what the hell do I expect, anyway? Forgiveness? Trust? Do I want to die alongside him? No, this is real life, Not some fucking fairy tale. But I'm still okay, right?" She opened her eyes. "You hear that, you son of a bitch?! I'm- alright!" She paused as she listened to herself speak. Yet the moment after the words left her mouth, after the birds flew away, there was only silence.

It was useless. It was all useless, the way she shouted for nothing. The second after her words were spoken, they would never be heard again. She was empty in this world where nothing changed. She had to get a hold of herself, or else more than just her life would be at stake. She let out a breath, and realized with tired eyes that she had been foolish, hiding out here like this, in the man's tree, no less, when his son was going to-

Was going to-

No. She didn't dare vocalize.

The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she shuttered with distant familiarity "…I have to see him… and beg for his forgiveness… on my hands, on my knees...that's it, that's…It's all I can do…" She continued to tremble as her tired arms shook like weak branches. "I'm so useless…"

Her eyes glowed with tears as she could finally see for herself what she had become, with rain pouring and wind shaking branches. A weak and useless little girl. Her shining eyes flashed back, to that day she cried with them.

With him.

With Red. The name could barely leave her lips before she shook at the memories, of their first, and their last meeting. Lightning. Both times had been red… bright red…the first with his eyes, the final…

With the blood from his head.

She shuttered, and realized with a sobering thought that she could never allow the tragedy to repeat itself. And with Edward damned to that castle, it would be inevitable, should they do nothing. Should she do nothing. But it was then that her eyes finally began to open. She looked around, and felt the birds- no, the crows- watching her.

"Why now?" Her hands shook at her sides. "Why am I remembering you now?" When... did I forget?!" She turned as a gust of wind blew past them. The tree became an orchard, apples growing from its branches. She shivered at its chill. "Is this...real?" Another gale. She felt sick as that feeling began to return. Light danced across her eyes as he head began to spin. It was all coming back to her now. "Or is this..." Every single detail, every fragrance, every consolation. She fell to her knees as the world changed before her eyes. Her pretty dress turned to ashes, her blond hair into dust upon her head. The mask cracked. Sable substance and vomit poured from her mouth as tears came to her eyes. The smell of blood and bad omens filled her senses once again. And in front of her, there was a building. Tall and looming. She looked up and saw it for herself. With an arduous effort, she stood, her feet now bare to the Earth and the wind. "...Another dream?"

She walked slowly, every step sending tremors up her spine. The wind was loud in her ears as it became harder and harder to think and understand just what the hell was going on. But she knew. She knew the moment her eyes glanced at the woodblock sign before her. Twenty steps and she saw it. Twenty steps and she read it for herself. This story came to the beginning. Her eyes closed, his back against the wind, head to the sky and heart pounding, she asked God why she had returned home.

"No…" she said to herself, her eyes widened with the dawning reality.

She had been tricked.

"Just where was I sitting all this time, if not in that tree? How... did I even get here?" Her fists clenched and her scream was muted in the howling wind. "Just when did I start dreaming?! When the hell did I fall asleep?!" Tears ran in angry lines as she tried not to believe it. But this was life, this was Truth. She was back to the burning building. It was a cross only she carried.

"Why?" No answer.

"Why?!" No consolation.

Her body shook in emotional tremors. "Just why did this have to happen?!" She fell to her knees as the building turned to ashes. The fire was put out by the passing wind. Before her were four graves. She whispered their names in vain.

"Rosso. Michael. Cassidy. Mel."

Her face hit the dirt as reality returned. Her sounds of despair were animalistic, yet as human as humankind could ever hope to be. She used the last of her strength to lean on his grave. And with that final name spoken, she felt the cold of the wind overcome her.

The sign, as it read. Clover Institute.

The Golden boy sat with mild despondence as he stared out the window of the tall tower of the White Castle. He distantly felt like a caged bird, or just someone waiting to be rescued. But from what? What demons lurked here? What would his hero save him from? The kind man with the warm voice? The woman with the pretty red coat? Maybe the brown-eyed boy?

No. None of them were something to be rescued from. None of them were bad people, so why would he feel this way? Or perhaps, he felt nothing but the absence of his own personality, that hollowness in his chest. Yes, that was it. That had to be it. There was nothing else, nothing but this emptiness. He heard a heartbeat, but it was cold and desolate. His sighed without truly understanding why. He faintly recalled people doing that when they were sad, but… was he? He hadn't a clue.

His eyes rolled to the sunset as he distantly felt a hand in his hair, a brush upon his flaxen strands. Her hands were soft, caressing in gentle brushstrokes while golden chords hummed a familiar tune. Ave Maria. His golden hair seemed to shimmer with each careful touch. He recalled distantly that someone else had done this before, that even these gentle hands seemed familiar. But what was this recollection? And to a tune he had never heard before?

But he had. At the way she hummed each tender note, doubtlessly, he could remember something of it. Not when, not who, but something in her voice sparked a deep memory in him, cut into an outline of a woman with chestnut hair. Ave Maria. His mind was in a dull state of contentment as he witnessed, through the window, the beam of the setting sun. Hughes of red adorned them. Red. Was she the woman with the gentle hands? She stopped humming as quietly as she had started, bringing forth a contented silence among them. After a moment, she spoke, kindly. "Has anyone ever told you how soft your hair is? It's almost like spun gold." the boy was silent, yet somehow the woman knew that he was listening. "That's what Grimsley named you for. The gold of your eyes, and the gold of your hair. It's beautiful." She let it fan out from her grasp, admiring its shine in the natural light of the room. Again, the boy tried to repeat her words.

She smiled at his efforts. "You know, you've really improved, Gold. Before long you'll be able to speak." She put the brush on his bedside table. "To read, and even write. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" For the first time in their conversation, he looked upon her face, and he saw a reflection of someone else. Her hair was curly and red, fuller than the finest perm. It was a natural style that reflected both her grace and her charm. It was the tapestry to her bright eyes. Their color, he could not discern. She smiled into him, her gaze piercing the void in his heart. "I don't think you've ever really seen my face until now, Gold. I'm certainly glad that you don't take offense." The boy shook his head, vaguely understanding what she was saying. "I'm rather glad of that." She looked out the window into the sunset, and smiled fondly. The boy followed her gaze. "My. The sun is always the prettiest when it sets. Most of us don't care to remember it until we see it going down. I suppose that's true for most things. We're too often there only to say 'farewell'. Don't you think so?" She wrapped an arm around him, her gaze never straying from the bright red pattern of light. She waited only a moment for his response. "Sorry, I suppose such notions are too abstract for you, dear. That's okay, though. No matter who's watching, the sunset is always beautiful." They sat there for several silent moments, until an abrupt, polite knock at the door. A man with a small cart entered.

"I've brought evening tea for you, Milady." The man, Midori, said. Lady Red clapped her hand together, grinning widely. "Oh, excellent! Wouldn't some tea be nice Gold?" Midori poured the tea as Gold gave a very slight nod, not really sure what exactly she was going on about. "Oh, I'm sure you'll love it! What flavor is it tonight, Midori?"

He spoke without frivolous words. "Ginger tea, Milady." She took a cup into her hands and gave it to Gold. The boy looked at it, bemused. The woman smiled whilst nudging him in the shoulder. "Well? Go on then. Drink up, dear." The boy seemed nervous at the notion of consuming such a foreign substance. But with a look of reassurance from Lady Red, he decided, albeit with some reservation, to partake of the dubious drink. And the warmth that filled his mouth was different, but it was absolutely wonderful. His eyes sparked in that quick moment. "G...good." Her eyes widened at his successful venture. "Gold?"

He wet his lips and spoke again. "It's... good." At his second remark, the woman swiftly put down her cup and enveloped him in a warm embrace. "Gold! You've just said a complete sentence, I'm so proud! I knew for certain that you had it in you!" She kissed his forehead in adoration. "Midori? Please inform Grimsley at once. I'm certain that he'll be elated to know!"

The man bowed. "Yes, Milady Red."

For yet another time in his life, Roy Mustang stood out in the rain. His nerves were shot, his eyes red-tempered and his heart a mess in his chest. A toxin of pain, regret and worry blended together within him. His hands shook slightly, from cold or from fear, as he held that cigarette between his fingers. He wanted relief, he wanted release from the pain of loss and a broken spirit. He wanted to feel that emptiness. It had been several days since he watched that van drive away, Edward's voice becoming an echo in the distance. It was a voice hat continued to echo within his mind, driving him to the brink of insomnia and anguish. If only he had it in him to imagine what was going to happen to the boy... but he didn't. He felt too weak, too fearful to create that miserable image in his mind. Even still, that voice echoed on, even as he reached again for that cigarette. But with shaking hands and a shaken mind, he could never hope to light it. After all, with the storm in his mind, Roy Mustang was useless in the rain. A woman stood beside of him, wordlessly, as he dropped his desperate cigarette. He lowered his head in despondence. Still, as he was shaken by the wind and the rain, she was silent. Words were not needed. She knew exactly what he was feeling. Their many years together had far proven that. The woman before him was keen on that. She could almost predict the next words that came out of his mouth.

"It's raining again." he remarked emptily, his voice as far in the doldrums as his spirit. Roy Mustang was a tower, built up and torn down, felled by the quakes of his own heart, of his yearn for a happy ending. She responded in kind. "Sir,"

"Is it so wrong?" He asked in his despondence. Perhaps he had expected her to ask what he was talking about, but she already knew, both the question in his heart, and the answer he needed to hear. "You've done nothing wrong, yet, Sir." He glanced at her from his lowered head. the bags poignant under his eyes. "And how do you figure, Lieutenant?"

She tried a smile. "I haven't shot you yet." He tried a laugh, but what came out was an embittered noise, a bleak image of his former humor. A proper reflection of his nature. "That you haven't." He stopped himself. 'too bad', he wanted to say. But such words were needless. She already knew that he was becoming desperate. Instead, he asked her another question. "Why'd you follow me out here, Lieutenant?"

"You're stupid when you're angry, Sir. You aren't as level-headed as you make yourself out to be." He sighed. "I guess you're right about that one. Here I am, out in the rain, trying to light a damn cigarette. And I can't even do that right."

"You don't need it, Colonel." She interjected, almost abruptly. He looked up at her, mild surprise adorning his face. "What do you mean, Lieutenant? Don't care for smokers?" He tried to be funny, but it more so came off as pathetic. "That's not what I meant. You don't need a cigarette in a storm, Colonel." He raised his head as she held it out for him. "You need an umbrella." If only for a moment, he couldn't move his lips. "Yeah... I guess you're right, Hawkeye." He said as he stood, standing under her umbrella as she opened it wide. "With due respect, Sir, I'm always right." She said as they began to walk, the storm resilient. "That you are. That you are." He stood closer to her on the long walk home.