He is cast away in eternal shadows, never really sleeping, never really waking. He hunches over his knees, wearing the same tattered leather pants he's been wearing for years. Mismatched arms clench a half-eaten sandwich, marveling at the rare sight of food.

Memories of rage-filled pain fill his mind; he tries to cast the nightmares away, hoping for once he'll just be able to drift off into blissful sleep.

But they linger in his head, just like they always do. His little brother's death, his father's cruel words, his mother's eternal pain.

He wishes desperately for an escape from here.

He moves his location when he can muster up the strength. When the same faces see him too often, they get the idea he's desperate enough for their sick kind of payment. He isn't; never will be. He's vowed to retain some self-worth.

Now, he's switched from a makeshift shack under the highway to a dark alleyway. It's dangerous here, a common ground for drug-dealing, but he will stay until his time is up.

He looks up at the innocent blue sky, a happy sight for some joyous soul far from here. But for him, it's only a sadistic mockery.

Sometimes when he looks up, he catches sight of the dreaded blue coat. They're prevalent here, the military soldiers. Especially the State Alchemists. It disgusts him, that the people in charge of the country would spend so much time in this sort of place, but he can't say he's surprised.

He's seen one State Alchemist more often than the others, but strangely, this one doesn't look like some cheap man looking for an easy whore. There is an honest look about the man, and he always values the small glimpses he catches of him.

Before he falls back to reality.

No one has caught him yet. So he stays, and each day is centered around the tall, pale alchemist.

The man comes almost every day, and sometimes the boy peeks out into the street, watching small disturbances. The man arrests the brothel owners, and whores take to the streets.

Some take shelter near him. A few offer their service, but soon realize he has no money. They move on.

He continues to watch the man. Sometimes, he catches him look back, and the boy slinks into the shadows, hiding. He must not be seen.

But how he wants to be.

One night, his alchemist—when did the alchemist become his?—stops to visit.

He kneels, holding out some bread. The boy takes it without a word, reverently, gratefully.

"Hello," the tall man says, voice so smooth and beautiful. "Who are you?"

The boy shrugs.

"My name is Roy. Where is your home?"

He gestures around the alleyway. A lie, for this isn't home, but it's his only answer to the question.

Roy says nothing for a while, just sits in silence. When the sky is darker, he passes over a small jacket, and walks away with an, "I'll be back."

Roy comes back, as promised. With more food and warmth.

"Do you know your name?" he asks, so softly, so gently.

The boy tries, but can't speak. Roy blinks, then hands over a water bottle. The boy drinks it gratefully.

After a few minutes, he tries again. This time, a soft whisper. "Ed."

Silence again. It's comforting to Ed, who finds solace in the rare friendly presence.

Finally, Roy speaks again. "Ed, would you like to have a real home? I could take care of you, give you the things you need."

He can't move. Or breathe. Or think.

Home?

It takes a few days for Ed to agree. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he's not sure if he really trusts Roy. After all, why trust anyone from the military?

But he decides this is his only chance at a real life, and if he lets it run away from him, he'll never forgive himself.

He doesn't have any possessions, only himself and the miserable excuses for clothes. He stands outside the black car, Roy patiently waiting for him to get in, and looks around.

"Never here again…" he whispers, and hopes it will be the truth.

The door opens to what seems like paradise.

"Home sweet home," Roy says, smiling smile.

Ed is quiet, basking in the warmth. He tries hiding his yawn, but Roy sees it anyway and chuckles. "Tired?" He nods, embarrassed. "Come on, I've set a room up for you."

Ed follows his alchemist up the stairs to a quaint, yet comfortable guest room that smells faintly of rosemary. For the first time in years, Ed gazes upon a real bed and feels a small smile touch his face.

"Thank you." His voice is small, but Roy smiles anyway, filling Ed with hope.

His sleep is still restless from time to time, but nightmares come less now.

He's still part of the shadows, and he thinks he always will be. But now, at least, he knows where the light is, and how to step into it. Roy is his flame, flaring brightly when he's passionate, subdued and comforting when he's quiet. And always, his alchemist is beautiful.

The seasons change and so does Ed, coming out of his shell at times to meet Roy's friends. Now, this is his home.

And sometimes, with that strange, black gaze upon him, he feels truly loved.

When he wakes up one morning, Roy knows his Ed is gone.

He had suspected the day would come for a while now. Ed had recovered as best he could from the darkness haunting his past, and now he was able to move on.

Still, Roy wishes there was another way.

Years blur together. He falls in and out of love, gets promoted, decides to leave the military, furthers his alchemic research.

Life moves on.

But whenever he needs hope, he believes he sees a flash of gold in the shadows.

And he knows his love is still out there.