Under the Influence RoyxEdward

[thia]

Roy crept forward, edging his way around a stack of crates as he tried to make out shapes in the gloom. He couldn't believe he had been dragged out of bed for this. It was the first night in weeks that he had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but after a bare hour of rest the shrilling telephone had shattered his peace.

It was never good news at that time of night: Ed's stake-out had gone critical. There were police and prisoners, soldiers milling around in confusion, some kind of argument over jurisdiction and, in the middle of it all, an alchemist hell-bent on tearing the place apart. Three warehouses already lay in ruins, and if they didn't catch him soon the whole district would be nothing but a pile of rubble. Of course, Ed had taken off after the man like a dog after a rat, and Roy had lost him in the chaos.

'Maybe he's destroying evidence?'

Roy flinched, turning to glare over his shoulder at Hughes. He was muffled up against the cold, hands thrust deep in his pockets. 'What are you doing out here?' he hissed, not missing the faint shadows of pain that pinched his friend's face. The old gunshot wound that almost killed him a few years ago might be no more than a fading scar, but Roy knew that it still hurt, especially on frigid nights like this one.

'You know I wouldn't leave my Gracia's side if I could help it,' Hughes whispered with a grin, pulling out his gun.'Unfortunately, one of the thieves is a man in my command. I wish I could say he was an undercover agent, but -' He shrugged. 'Guess he thought a life of crime would pay better. This alchemist's involved with the smugglers, isn't he? Perhaps he's destroying things to hide his tracks?'

'Why? They said they were stealing food and clothes, Maes. At worst they'll go to jail for a couple of years. This was a minor inconvenience to the army until about an hour ago. Now it's heading towards being a major embarrassment.' He darted out to check around the corner, spitting a curse as he realised it was a dead-end. The place was a maze; for all he knew, he was going around in circles. 'We need to sort this out before daybreak. I'd feel a lot better if I knew where Ed was.'

'Of course you would.' The knowing amusement in his friend's voice was obvious, and Roy resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he turned around, listening for any sounds that were out of the ordinary.

'I don't know what you mean,' he whispered. 'I'm concerned about my subordinate, that's all.'

Maes gave a disbelieving snort as he squinted around. 'Save your excuses for someone who believes them. It's been more than a year since Ed got Al back, but he's not left the military.'

'He can't just walk out. He has a contract.'

'A work of genius if I do say so myself.' Hughes grinned as Roy shot him a look. 'I think he'd have renewed his state certificate even if it weren't for that. Despite his protests, he likes it here. I wonder why that could be?'

Stretching out his tense fingers, Roy walked back the way they had come, trying to memorise the route as he murmured absently, 'They still needed money to survive, and Al had to regain his strength. The sensible thing was to stay in the army until things settled down.'

Except that, now, Al was healthy, calm and capable, and Ed... .

Ed had grown up. It must have been happening all along, right in front of Roy's eyes. Throughout those long years he had come back from each assignment a bit stronger, a fraction taller and more breath-taking than before. Now, when they stood face-to-face in his office, there was a different quality in the air. The sharp snap of frustration had turned thick and heavy with an attraction that Roy was helpless to ignore.

It wasn't just Ed's looks that caught his eye, but who he had become. He really was an alchemist for the people: stubborn and powerful, and something like respect had flourished between them. Sometimes Ed even followed orders, although not very often. After years of second-guessing and wary suspicion, there was something like trust building between them. It had been a long time coming, and, to his surprise, Roy found Ed's faith to be something he was desperate to keep intact.

'What was that?'

Roy froze at Maes' question, his thoughts scattering as he listened hard. It sounded like hollow running footsteps, and he looked around in confusion, trying to pinpoint the noise. They were getting closer, and he looked up as two darker shapes flitted through the darkness. 'They're on top of the crates!'

The lights stuttered into life and the shadows fled beneath the glare of the lamps, revealing the alchemist no more than half a dozen steps ahead of Ed. They were running along the peaks of the high stacks, jumping over gaps and tripping on the uneven wooden surface. Automatically, Roy broke into a sprint, trying to keep up as the route ahead twisted and turned. Maes was behind him, and other sounds suggested that the rest of Roy's command were converging on their quarry.

'Try and keep him away from the door!' Roy ordered, not caring who heard him as long as someone did as they were told. 'Don't let him escape!'

'For fuck's sake, Mustang, can't you just set his head on fire?' Ed snapped, jumping over another gap and landing heavily before launching himself forward again, teeth gritted as he gave chase.

A bullet zinged off the crates, and the alchemist veered wildly to avoid being shot. Riza and Havoc hurried out into the main path between the boxes, both taking careful aim, but a moving target was hard to hit at the best of times, and the last thing either of them wanted to do was clip Ed by accident.

Carefully, Roy clicked, sending a wide arc of flame curving around the room. It moved like a whip, forcing the alchemist to change course again before it dwindled away. He couldn't risk setting the supplies alight, but maybe he could give Ed the chance to catch up.

Suddenly, the alchemist jumped down, scribbling something on the side of one of the crates and pressing his hands against the wood. Instantly, it crumbled to ash, making the tower wobble alarmingly before it slammed into the nearby stack. It was like watching dominoes fall, and the air was rocked by the sound of splintering timber as the whole lot began to shift.

Ed launched himself off, swearing as he rolled to absorb the impact. In a second he was on his feet again, giving chase as the walls formed by the crates wavered and collapsed. Supplies spilled over the floor, and Roy jumped over broken planks and scattered cargo as he tried to keep Ed in his sights.

'Sir!' Riza's hand on his arm pulled him up short as another pile fell, smashing apart in front of them. Grain hissed underfoot, and Roy winced as the roaring collapse reached its thunderous crescendo, making the floor shake and dust billow up into the air.

Gradually, calm fell, leaving the lamps swinging on their cords. The occasional hiss and thump sounded from amidst the wreckage, but there was no sign of human life. His heart staggered fearfully as he looked around the mess, trying to see Ed. There were shouts from the police outside, and Roy knew they'd be coming to investigate, but right now all that mattered was finding Fullmetal.

'Ed, can you hear me?' he called out, picking his way over the debris. 'Ed?'

'Over here.' He sounded more angry than hurt, and Roy made his way towards the noise. It took him several minutes, but finally he was able to make out the prone form of the man they had been chasing, lying unconscious on his back with a broken nose. Ed was sitting on the alchemist's stomach, cuffing what looked like sugar from his face. 'Fucker threw it at me,' he said by way of explanation, jerking his head towards a still-intact crate. Its bottom corner had splintered, and a small pile of white powder had spilled free.

'At least you got him,' Roy replied, 'even if you did need our help.' He blinked when Ed didn't bother to retort, instead giving him a weak glare as he pressed his hand to his temple. Quickly, Roy crouched at his side, putting one hand on his shoulder as he checked him over for serious injuries. 'Are you all right? Did you hit your head?'

'No, I'm okay,' Ed mumbled, swallowing and making a disgusted face. 'That stuff tastes fucking weird – kind of like sweet chemicals. It's giving me a headache.'

Roy frowned, looking back at the gritty substance on the floor. Cautiously, he dipped a gloved finger in it. It was too fine to be sugar or salt, but what else was going to be in a warehouse like this? 'Havoc, get that crate open.' Roy waited impatiently as a crowbar was found, and the wooden box was prised apart to reveal dozens of clear bags, each filled with the same powder.

'Get the police over here,' he ordered. 'I think we just found what the smugglers were really dealing – and someone get me a bucket of water.' He turned back to Ed, cupping his jaw in his hand and tipping his head up so he could look into Ed's eyes. 'Did you swallow any?'

Ed shrugged as if it didn't matter, and Roy cursed quietly. 'Ed, answer me. Did you swallow or inhale any of what he threw at you?'

'A bit. Not much. Why?' His words were fast, short and a little slurred, and Roy's worry increased ten-fold as a long list ran through his head. Street drugs were not uncommon in Central, and there were new chemicals flooding in from other countries every day. It could be anything in the crate; he didn't even know how much had worked its way into Ed's system. He was covered in it, on his skin, in his hair, on his clothes... .

God, what if he overdosed? Roy's personal experience of drugs was mercifully limited and at least he'd known the name of what he was taking, but this was a different matter entirely. 'Do you feel anything other than the headache? Sick? Dizzy? Anything?' he demanded as he wiped more of the powder away with gloved fingers.

Ed shook his head, his lips curving into an open, easy smile as he said. 'Headache's gone. I'm fine.' He wrapped a hand around Roy's wrist and went to stand up, but his balance was completely off, and Roy barely caught him before he landed face first on the floor. Ed snorted with laughter, and Roy shut his eyes in disbelief, his heart still beating fast with alarm.

'Well, at least he's happy,' Hughes pointed out, trying to keep a straight face as Ed tried and failed to stand up properly.

'Maes, this is serious! Where the hell are those police?'

A couple of young men edged closer, following Roy's pointing finger to the packed crate. One of them whistled, eyes wide in surprise as the other pulled out one of the bags and turned it over in his hands. He looked at his companion, jerking his head towards the door as he said, 'Get the captain. He needs to see this.'

'Do you know what it is?' Roy asked, watching the policeman narrow his eyes at something drawn on the bag. He still had both arms full of Ed, or he would have grabbed the man and shaken the information out of him. 'Well, do you?'

'Yes, sir. It's "Euphoria". It's been flooding Central's drug scene for the past three years, and we had no clue where it was coming from. A haul this big is worth more than I'd earn in my life.' For the first time, he noticed Ed, taking in his whitened hair and jacket with raised eyebrows as comprehension dawned. 'What happened?'

'The crate was leaking and that guy threw a handful in his face.' Roy gestured towards the unconscious alchemist, looking down as Ed struggled upright again. 'What should we do?'

'There's not much you can do, if it's Euphoria,' a new voice said. Roy glanced up to see a police captain walking towards them. 'Wait ten minutes. If he starts throwing up then take him to hospital and pray they can get him through the overdose. If not then all you can do is let him ride it out.'

'Captain Murphy, I don't think an overdose is likely,' the policeman explained. 'The bags are sticky. It's probably been cut with large amounts of icing sugar and flour – that means it's been mixed in,' he added for the benefit of the soldiers. 'It's not impossible, but I've seen people who've taken too much before. There are normally signs within the first few minutes.'

'He said he had a headache right after, and he can't stand up,' Roy pointed out, frowning as the soldier shrugged. 'At most he only swallowed some of this stuff ten minutes ago, and he's already behaving differently. Are you telling me that's normal?'

'Euphoria can do a lot of things to people,' Murphy explained, 'but generally the name's a give away. It acts quickly, building up over about an hour. Once the high really takes hold, he'll be energetic and happy, but he'll have very few inhibitions and not much sense of self-preservation. I strongly recommend against leaving him alone. It should be over within about six hours.' The captain looked thoughtful. 'I've probably got a leaflet about it in the car, but, for now, he can't go anywhere. He's wearing evidence.'

Roy shifted, rising to his feet and pulling Ed up after him as he snarled, 'Forget your evidence, Captain. There's enough of it in that crate. My first responsibility is to my subordinate. I need to get him out of here.'

Murphy shook his head, opening his mouth to speak. Whatever he had been about so say was interrupted by Breda staggering up with a pail full of water. 'I had to break the ice on this, but it was under a tap. Should be all right to drink.'

'He's not going to drink it,' Roy said grimly, perching Ed on some of the debris. 'We need to get him clean so he doesn't get any more into his system.'

'Wait! Don't throw cold water over him!' Murphy shouted, frowning as Roy scowled. 'For god's sake, sir, it's him I'm thinking of. Warm it up first. Euphoria puts a lot of strain on the heart, and a sudden shock could kill him.'

Biting back an irritated retort, Roy reached into his pocket for some chalk and drew a quick array on the floor. Placing the bucket in its centre, he touched his fingers to the edge of the design, watching the energy ripple across the water's surface. Soon enough it was the temperature of a pleasantly warm bath, and he heaved it in his grip before upturning it over Ed's head.

He expected a scream of fury; at any other time he knew Ed would have smashed his face in, but after a few seconds of surprised silence, Ed grinned, laughter bubbling in his throat as he said, 'Do that again!'

'Whoa,' Havoc said quietly. 'That's kind of creepy. The Boss only laughs when he's up to something.'

'Sir, can I suggest you get Edward out of here?' Riza asked, crouching down and throwing a blanket around Ed's wet shoulders. She smiled warily as he leaned his head against her arm with a happy sound. 'I can wrap things up, with Captain Murphy's cooperation, of course, but I think Edward needs to be somewhere safe.'

Roy nodded, holding out his hand. 'Come on. Up you get.' He curled his fingers around Ed's palm and tugged him to his feet, dragging the blanket up so it didn't trail on the floor before nudging him in the right direction. 'Let's get you back home to Al.'

'Didn't Al leave for Risembool this morning?' Hughes asked, falling into step at his side and watching Ed with interest. 'I thought he was visiting Winry?'

'Al loves Winry,' Ed said bluntly, tipping his head back and squinting up at the lights. 'Thinks she's hot.' He screwed up his face as if that thought was a mystery to him, but the expression faded as something sparkling among the debris caught his interest.

He moved too quickly for Roy to react, and it was Havoc, who was following a little way behind, that caught him mid-sprint, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. Ed turned, cat-quick, but it wasn't an attack. Instead he looped his arms around Jean's shoulders and hugged him tight, making him splutter in shock.

Maes chuckled, and Roy shook his head in growing horror. 'Al can't be in Risembool. Who's going to look after Ed?'

'Well, you're his commanding officer,' Hughes replied, watching Havoc extricate himself from Ed's embrace. The lieutenant looked embarrassed, but he laughed out loud as Ed mumbled something Roy couldn't make out.

Maes was right. It was his responsibility to see to the welfare of his subordinates, but it was hard enough to keep Ed safe when he knowingly threw himself into trouble. How was he meant to look after him when he no longer seemed to understand the concept of danger?

If Ed was drowsy and lethargic then it would be simple. He'd stay in one place and probably fall asleep, but he was already twitchy, bright-eyes and easily distracted. If what Murphy had said was true, it was only going to get worse.

Havoc was guiding Ed towards the door, listening incredulously to his random statements. He seemed to say whatever came into his head and kept getting distracted by the most mundane things, like the fall of a shadow across the floor or the skitter of dead leaves rattling along the road outside.

'This is just the start of it. What else is going to happen?' Roy looked to Maes for answers, but his only response was a shrug. 'I need to know more if I'm going to be able to take care of him properly.'

'I'll see if I can get that leaflet the captain mentioned. Get Ed into the car, and I'll meet you there,' Hughes said. 'You're probably going to be better off taking him to your place. At least then you won't be rummaging around looking for things while he's bouncing off the walls.' Without another word, Maes trotted off, leaving Roy and Havoc to try and steer Ed in the right direction.

'You've got to admit, it's kind of funny,' Jean said as Ed started to tug at his gloves, face pinched in a puzzled expression. It cleared into a blissful smile when he finally got his left hand free, and he clung to Roy's coat. 'I think it's the most defenceless I've ever seen him. If a chimera ran at him now he'd probably try and pet it.'

Roy made a non-committal sound, looking down in surprise as Ed's fingers dragged down his sleeve and plucked at his cuff before he held Roy's hand, weaving their fingers together. He wasn't paying attention to his physical actions, was too busy twisting around and taking in, but he was swinging Roy's arm back and forth as if he couldn't stand the thought of being still.

It was a shock being touched by Ed, who was so fiercely possessive of his personal space that he snarled at anyone who got within ten feet. Now those boundaries had melted away, and that warm, gold gaze roamed the warehouse before settling on Roy's face, focussed and fascinated.

Roy's mouth went dry as he saw the dilation of Ed's pupils and the flush on his cheeks. He looked mesmerised, and Roy had to force himself to look away, dragging his gaze back to the floor so he could concentrate on where he was going. Absently, he tightened his grip on Ed's palm, helping him pick his way over the debris and out into the icy night.

A sharp wind was blustering over the city and Roy shivered as Havoc stamped his feet and cursed, hiking up the collar of his coat. Ed, on the other hand, closed his eyes as if it was a cool summer breeze rather than an freezing northerly, smiling as it swept his hair back from his face and snatched at the blanket that still sagged around his shoulders.

'Get the car,' Roy ordered, angry at himself for not thinking things through. 'He's sopping wet, and just because he doesn't seem to feel the cold doesn't mean he's immune to it. I'll stay inside with him.' He watched Havoc nod in agreement, fumbling for a cigarette and lighting up as he trotted across the yard towards the perimeter.

Ed went to follow him, only stopping when Roy said, 'Not you, Ed. Come on, this way.' He tugged on the hand still wrapped in his palm, feeling another prickle of unease sweep through him as Ed followed, docile and happy. Roy knew that mind-altering substances could radically change personalities, but this obedience was disconcerting. It wasn't out of respect for authority; it was simply because Ed didn't see the point of saying "no".

'Do you feel all right?' he asked as he pulled Ed into the shelter of the warehouse and out of the clutches of the wind. 'Nothing hurts?'

'Feel tingly,' Ed wrinkled his nose as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, always in motion, 'and thirsty. I want a drink.' He was already looking around again, and Roy gripped his shoulders, trying to hold him in place before he could bolt. 'I want a drink, Roy.'

His name in Ed's voice should not have sent such a thrill of heat down his spine, but it was husky and inviting and made Roy think of a warm bed and passion-wrecked sheets. 'You can have some water soon,' he managed, clearing his throat. 'I promise. Ed, what – what are you doing?' Roy gasped as Ed ducked out of his grip and pressed himself close, arms wrapped tight around his waist as his nose brushed against the pulse thudding in the crook of Roy's neck. He could feel Ed's too-quick breaths fluttering against his skin, and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to let go.

Roy finally let his hands settle around the neat line of his waist, at least keeping a bit of distance between their hips. Ed trembled at the contact, and Roy frowned, noticing the sharp, strange heat of his skin. It was burning through his wet vest and jacket, and his forehead felt scorching. Was that supposed to happen?

'You're hot,' he said, feeling stupid for stating the obvious.

Ed's shoulders shifted in a shrug. 'So're you.' He stood back a little. His expression was beatifically calm, but his eyes took on a distinctly hungry gleam as he met Roy's gaze. 'Very hot.'

Normally, Roy would have smirked at such a blatant compliment, but there was something almost enchanting about Ed's frank statements. The drug was making him say things without any prevarication or ulterior motive, and Roy couldn't help but smile. It seemed that Ed's internal mechanism that decided what he could and couldn't say out loud had been switched off. He didn't seem to be afraid of rejection or reprimand, and when Roy gave a small smile and murmured his faintly embarrassed thanks, Ed's face lit up.

'Are you two ready?' Hughes called out, and Roy looked through the door to see the car idling in the yard. 'We really should get him somewhere safe before he gets much worse.' There was still a hint of amusement to Maes' voice, but now it was tempered with more concern, and he held the door open as Roy got Ed into the car before settling next to him.

'What have you found out? Is a fever listed as one of the effects?' he asked, blinking in surprise as Ed twisted around in the seat, getting up on his knees to look out of the back window at the disappearing view. 'Ed, put your seatbelt on.'

'Yes, raised body temperature and dehydration are standard. Euphoria does more than just make people happy.' Hughes tipped the glossy paper in his hands towards the shifting light, trying to read the neat type. 'I imagine not everyone experiences all of the symptoms, but you can probably expect hallucinations and he'll be very suggestible.'

'You should give the Boss an order, sir. He might follow it for once,' Jean said jokingly, but Roy could see his eyes, tight with concern, in the rear view mirror. 'It won't get that bad, will it? I mean he won't do anything, will he?'

Hughes turned around in the passenger seat, looking back at Ed. 'To be honest, I don't know how much worse it gets. From reading this, it's pretty clear that it interferes with the user's inhibitions. There's no thought process to stop them from acting on impulse. Someone on Euphoria thinks everything's a good idea, whether it's going to Xing or pointing a gun at themselves and pulling the trigger.'

'Shit, that's not funny,' Havoc muttered, sounding shaken as he turned onto the main road and accelerated. 'Are you sure we're doing the right thing? Wouldn't he be safer in hospital?'

Hughes was already shaking his head, his glasses winking in the gloom. 'It might seem like a good idea at first, but you don't just need to worry about looking out for him while he's high.' His voice was tense and low as he explained, 'The hospital will admit him and keep him there through the up and the down.'

'Is that bad?' Roy asked, realising that while Ed had sat back down he still hadn't buckled himself in. Quickly, he pulled the restraint around Ed's body and clipped it in place, watching him start to pluck at the tight belt as if it were a guitar string.

'Think about it,' Hughes said. 'He's happy, relaxed, energetic and that's going to intensify over the next half an hour, but what about when the drug's gone? His mood is going to plummet. He'll feel bad enough without being in a hospital. You know he hates them at the best of times.'

'They smell funny,' Ed supplied. He had given up with his seatbelt and now had his head tipped back, body arched against the restraint as he stared at the flash of the street-lamps passing by, 'and they hurt. I'm still thirsty.'

'We'll be home soon,' Roy replied absently, leaning forward and trying to read the leaflet in Maes' hands. 'At hospital he'll get medical attention if he needs it. I don't think I've even got any bandages at home.'

'You probably won't need them.' Maes ran a hand through his hair as he quietly confessed, 'Look, "bad" might be a bit of an understatement. Perhaps "depressed" is more accurate. It's unlikely he'll need anything a doctor or nurse can offer him. He'll need somewhere warm and comfortable where he can hide until his mood stabilises, which could take anything from a few hours to a week. It all depends how he reacts. He needs to be with someone he can trust, Roy, and in Al's absence, that someone is you.'

Roy closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to think things through. 'Okay. Is there anything else I should know about? What about the hallucinations? Is he likely to get violent?'

'No, definitely not. Even if he has a bad trip and sees horrible things, he won't fight back. It simply won't occur to him as a possibility.' Hughes sighed, looking up as Jean slowed to a halt outside Roy's house. He looked exhausted and in sore need of his bed, but he still asked, 'Will you be all right looking after him on your own, or do you need me to stay?'

Roy glanced back at Ed, considering his options before he shook his head. 'I think he's going to be embarrassed enough by this without having an audience. I'll call you if things get out of hand.'

Maes looked like he was thinking about arguing Roy down, but eventually he said, 'If I don't hear from you by morning, I'll drop by and check you're both all right. I've still got your spare key.' He glanced at Ed, who was drawing frantic patterns on the misty windows with his finger, before holding out the leaflet to Roy. 'You'll probably need this.'

Wordlessly, Roy took it from him, folding it up and shoving it in his coat pocket before he climbed out of the car and walked around the other side. Ed gave a little surprised noise when the door opened, looking puzzled as the window moved beyond his reach. He was still buckled in, and Roy ducked his head, groping around Ed's waist before he managed to get the belt undone. 'Come on, this way.'

Ed leapt out of the car like a greyhound at the start of the race, but this time Roy was ready for it. Before Ed got more than a step away, he grabbed him and picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder as he kicked the car door shut. Both Ed's hands were fisted in the back of Roy's coat, and he could hear muffled snorts of laughter.

'Got him?' Havoc asked with a grin, watching as Roy retrieved his keys.

'For now. Get Hughes home to Gracia, and then get some rest yourself. With any luck next time you see Ed he'll be back to his normal self.'

Jean flicked an idle salute out of the window as he pulled away, and Roy waited until the car was out of sight before he let his breath out in a heavy sigh. Ed was being very still, and Roy jogged him gently as he climbed the steps before putting the key in the lock and pushing his way inside. It was only once he'd shut out the night's wide horizons and flicked on the light that he felt confident enough to risk letting Ed go.

Lowering him back to the ground, he realised that Ed was far too busy looking around to bother with something as boring as finding his balance. Roy held him up, feeling the wetness of Ed's jacket seep through his gloves. They'd left the blanket in the car, and Ed was dripping water on the floor.'We need to get you out of those clothes,' he murmured, his thoughts racing. 'Stay here, Ed, right here, and I'll get you that drink you wanted, okay?'

'Okay,' Ed chirped, tipping his head back to look at the lights and the lazy spiral of the staircase. 'This is a nice house. It feels good. Not creepy. Not bad. Have you ever noticed how some places feel like that? Really wrong?' The litany of questions continued, and Roy took off the thick, military coat and the uniform jacket beneath, throwing them over the coat rack before turning back to watch Ed, fascinated.

It seemed he didn't need answers – the chatter went on regardless of whether Roy said anything or not, and he was walking in a continual circle, balancing on the spiral pattern of tiles on the floor as if they were a bar rather than a flat line on the ground. He seemed safe enough, and Roy backed away towards the kitchen, pausing to automatically light the fire in the living room before he turned his back and hurried through to the sink.

He would have brought Ed through with him, but there was too much here he could hurt himself on: the stove, knives, shiny and breakable objects... . No, better to keep him out of the kitchen all together. Roy grabbed a glass and flicked on the tap, filling it to the brim. It was only when the torrent of water stopped that he realised something was missing. Ed's voice had fallen silent, and Roy peered out of the open doorway, trying to see what had captivated him this time.

The hall was empty.

'Shit!' Roy hissed to himself, darting out of the doorway and slopping water on the tiles as he did so. 'Ed? Ed, where the hell did you go?' The doors were locked and the windows were shut, so he was probably in the house somewhere, but where? So much for Fullmetal doing as he was told. 'Ed?'

It took Roy a moment to realise that the hall wasn't quite as empty as he'd thought. Ed's black jacket lay in a soggy heap, as if he'd shrugged out of it and let it fall. A short distance away was one boot, its laces draped forlornly over the floor next to the white splayed form of a glove.

Roy raised an eyebrow, realising the trail was heading towards the living room. A spasm of fear shot through him as he thought of the fire, but surely Euphoria didn't stop pain? If Ed hurt himself he would at least cry out, wouldn't he?

Shoving the door open, he stopped dead. Ed was standing in front of one of the bookshelves, obsessively taking each tome off with great care, running his fingers over the cover and then putting it back, but it wasn't his behaviour that had made Roy's breath catch in his throat: it was the sight of him.

The muscles of his back shifted beneath warm skin turned bronze in the firelight, and bare automail gleamed in the unsteady glow. A dark pile at Ed's feet was probably his vest, stripped off and cast aside, and the leather trousers were slung low around slim hips. His ponytail was still in place, but it was coming loose, and long tendrils of hair scribbled over Ed's shoulders.

'Fuck,' Roy whispered, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again Ed was still there, half-naked and glorious, and Roy felt his body pulse with desire. He wanted that, all of it, warm and willing in his bed and in his arms. In the office it was easy to wave aside the attraction, to draw the line and stick to it because that was easier than risking it all, but now... .

Now there was a different line, Roy realised, and it was one he couldn't cross. Ed was utterly in his power, defenceless and open and trusting. He would do almost anything he was told, and if Roy suggested that sex was a good idea then Ed'd probably race him to the bedroom. The truth of it was that Ed didn't – couldn't – know his own mind right now. He had no inhibitions, nothing to make him think twice, and that meant that Roy had to be the voice of reason, no matter what.

Swallowing tightly, he edged closer, brushing gloved fingertips over Ed's shoulder to get his attention. Immediately, Ed turned away from the books, smiling as if he had thought he would never see Roy again. His eyes fell on the glass of water, and he reached for it, almost snatching it from Roy's hand and gulping it so fast that a few glassy rivulets overflowed, trailing down his neck and chest.

With a massive effort, Roy didn't lick his lips. His mouth watered with the urge to lap the droplets from Ed's skin, but he bit his tongue, forcing his libido down as Ed drained the tumbler and held it out.

'More?'

'That was a pint, Ed. I don't think you need another.' It seemed to go right over Ed's head, and Roy sighed, snagging the glass from his grip and putting it on the desk. 'You can have a big drink every hour, but too much will make you ill. Okay?'

Ed nodded, but his eyes had followed the empty glass as if magnetised, and he was staring at it longingly. Bright flags of colour still lingered on his cheeks, and even though the room wasn't particularly warm, he wasn't shivering. Was he still feverish? Had it got worse? Exactly how bad was this going to get before Ed started to be more like himself?

Roy reached out, flinching in surprise when Ed's hand moved too quickly for him to see, gripping his wrist. It didn't hurt, but it was firm enough to remind Roy of the fact that, should he want to, Ed could easily break bone. The tiger might be a playful kitten right now, but it still had very big teeth. 'What is it?' he asked Ed, who was looking at Roy's palm as if it puzzled him.

'Itchy.'

'What is?'

Ed tugged at Roy's glove meaningfully, face wrinkled with concentration as he tried to pull the white fabric off. Finally, he dragged it away and dropped it on the floor, laughing as Roy wriggled his fingers. He was tracing the lines on Roy's palm with his index finger, creating tiny ribbons of sensation with every touch, and Roy paused before pulling his other glove off with his teeth and reaching out to check Ed's forehead.

Instantly, Ed leaned into the touch with a happy groan, shifting closer to rub against Roy's chest. Agile fingers caught in the cotton of his shirt, creasing it in a tight grasp as he flattened himself against the line of Roy's body – thighs, hips, stomach, chest and not an inch of space between them.

It was the drug, Roy reminded himself fiercely as his skin thrilled with the contact and his hand shifted to rest over Ed's hair. He must be reaching the peak of his high by now: Ed probably didn't even know left from right or right from wrong, and... .

Ed licked up his throat, biting carelessly and making the sexiest noise Roy had ever heard. It was a growling kind of mew, something joyfully possessive, and all the will power in the world couldn't have stopped Roy from leaning his head a little, eyes half-closed in automatic pleasure. Ed's behaviour was flicking all the right switches, screaming out for reciprocity and what was he meant to do? How was he meant to say no when this was all he wanted?

Something caught his eye, and it was like a splash of cold water in the face. He stepped back so quickly that Ed wobbled, blinking at the sudden loss of Roy's warmth. Within a heartbeat he had closed the distance again, arms twining around Roy's neck as Roy grabbed his hips, throwing almost all his strength into holding him at bay.

The occasional slick of white powder still marked Ed's chest, glistening lewdly. It had probably been under his vest when Roy had chucked the water over him, and it hadn't all been washed away. He had to get Ed in the shower, had to get all of the stuff off of him. He cursed his thoughtlessness, knowing it should have been the first thing he'd done.

He didn't even know if Euphoria could be absorbed through the skin, but it wasn't a risk he was about to take. Ed was already sky high, and what about him? Most of the time he'd been wearing gloves and fully clothed, but what if he touched some? If he ended up in the same state as Ed then they really would be lost.

Untangling himself, he stepped back again, moving at a steady stride as Ed followed, grinning at this new game in a way that made Roy's heart clench. Did Ed even know how vulnerable he was right now? Roy could be taking him anywhere: to bed, to work, to an executioner's block, and Ed followed him like a lamb.

'Where you going?' Ed asked when they reached the bottom of the stairs. There was no hint of wariness to his question. It was blatant curiosity, nothing more, and Roy wondered if he could say anything that would make Ed hesitate.

In the end he answered truthfully, because while it might not make any difference to Ed, it mattered to him. At dawn, he wanted to be able to say that everything he'd done had been in Ed's best interests. He wanted to come out of this without succumbing to guilt's sick swim, and the gleam in Ed's eyes told him that wasn't going to be easy. 'To the bathroom. You should come too.'

'Why?'

'You need to get clean,' Roy explained, climbing up the stairs backwards. 'Remember that man who threw something in your face? The powder's a drug, and we need to make sure none of it's still on you.'

'Why?'

Roy clenched his teeth, trying to find his patience as he paused on the third step up. 'Because otherwise you might get ill, and I don't want that to happen.'

'Why?'

'Ed... .' Roy shut his eyes, dragging his hands through his hair. 'Please just come with me?'

The thudthudthud of running footsteps was the only warning that Roy got, and he opened his eyes to see Ed sprint past him, a blur of black and gold that was up the stairs and along the hall before Roy had even found his voice. Belatedly, he took off after him, his heart thrashing in his chest as Ed darted into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

Oh, god! Razors, scissors, a dozen different ways to drown, the bathroom was no better than the kitchen!

Roy accelerated, throwing all his weight at the door and yelping in surprise when it opened easily. He expected to hit cold, hard tiles and instead collided with Ed, who squeaked as they went down in a tangle of limbs. Roy landed between Ed's legs and, almost immediately, Ed's arms were back around his neck, holding him in place as he nestled closer and gave a pleased hum.

With a huff of exasperated laughter, Roy pressed his forehead against Ed's, waiting for his heart to stop hammering his ribs to dust before he murmured, 'Why do you keep running? Is something scaring you?'

'It's fun,' Ed said bluntly, arching his body up into Roy's as his eyes narrowed to lustful slits. 'So's this. Makes your eyes really dark, and -' This time his laugh was more throaty as he jerked meaningfully against the cradle of Roy's hips. '- that really hard.'

"That" was definitely erect, awake and aware of the wriggle of Ed's too hot body underneath him and deaf to all the shrieking logic in Roy's brain. He almost sobbed at the unfairness of it, sucking in a breath as he tried to control himself - tried not to let his full weight settle over Ed's body where it belonged. He could already feel an answering ridge of arousal in Ed's leather pants, and it took everything he had to force himself back and concentrate on the task at hand.

Still, he could only go so far. Ed's legs wrapped around his waist, thighs snug against Roy's sides as he tunnelled his fingers into Roy's hair and nuzzled at his jaw. 'Ed, you need to let go so you can go in the shower,' he pointed out, trying to drag Ed's arms from around his neck.

After a few minutes of trying to get free, he realised it was useless and, bracing himself, Roy curved his arms around Ed's waist, holding on tight as he staggered to his feet. His back would be sore in the morning, and his knees were probably never forgive him, but he jostled Ed higher and carried him towards the shower. A twist of the tap sent the water drumming into the bottom of the bath, and he grunted as Ed arched backwards, reaching for the crystalline spray.

'If you let go of me, you can get in,' Roy suggested hopefully, trying to ignore the squeal of his arm muscles as he held Ed up. He probably wasn't that heavy, but a metal arm and leg definitely made this too much of a strain to keep up for long.

'Nope. Can't,' Ed said as he watched the water run through his fingers. He didn't elaborate, and Roy decided not to ask. He couldn't leave Ed under the shower alone, anyway, and that only left one viable option.

He toed his way out of his boots, glad that the laces were loose enough for him to get free. When he was standing in his socked feet, he stepped over the edge of the bath and moved so that both himself and Ed were under the warm cascade.

As soon as the droplets hit Ed's skin he laughed out loud. The sound rang out through the bathroom, and Ed gracefully unwrapped his legs, his toes splashing in the water as he slithered down Roy's body to stand on his own two feet. The automail shimmered and broke with reflections, and Roy watched the shift of metal plates and muscles as Ed put his hands up in the air, trying to snatch at the shower head.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Roy reached for the band that held Ed's ponytail in place, pulling it free before he combed Ed's hair out with his fingers. He tried to tell himself that this was practical, medicinal– he had to get every last bit of Euphoria off of Ed's body – but the sensuous prickle of desire over his skin and through his core told a different story.

His bare palms swept over the hot silk of Ed's shoulders, following their curves before he brushed his fingers over the hard line of his collarbone, feeling the faint, gritty gloss on Ed's skin vanish as the water washed it away.

He was beautiful – there really was no other word for it. Roy had seen plenty of lovers unclothed, male and female, but they'd never done this to him. They'd never wiped his mind clean and reduced the world's vast horizons to the outline of their form, but Ed – Ed had done all that and more.

Roy had thought that Ed was in his power, shackled and splayed open by the chemicals in his system, but really it was the other way around. Roy was the one who was drugged, dragged under and drowning in need.

Abruptly, he realised Ed was no longer paying attention to the water that sluiced around them. He was watching Roy, poised and still for the first time since he'd been carried through the front door. One hand reached out, tracing the circle of a shirt button before tugging it free. Another followed, then another, and Roy finally found the strength to move, to grab Ed's wrist and whisper a weak, 'Please, Ed, I can't -'

Ed's lips over his silenced him, and Roy made a tight noise as his hands found their natural place at Ed's leather-clad hips, cupping and holding close. Hot tongue and the nip of teeth and he tasted like – God, like air, like life, like freedom: sweet and addictive. Roy couldn't get enough. He slipped his hand up Ed's slick back to tangle fingers in his hair, cradling his head and changing the angle, deepening the kiss.

He nudged Ed towards the wall, pushing him against the tiles so that the shower spray gushed down Roy's shoulders and back rather than drowning them both. Ed might not be aggressive, but he was equally dominant to Roy, riding the kiss and returning it with unmistakable ardour, fists clenched in the wrecked cotton of Roy's shirt as he fought for more.

The tight grind of Ed's erection against his own made him gasp, filling his lungs with steamy air as his body shook, fighting against the leash of his self-restraint. His hands wouldn't stop moving, tracing the sculpted outlines of Ed's flesh and automail, picking out the ropes of tendons and the hidden hardness of his bones. Fingertips drifted lower, down Ed's stomach, curving around his navel before tracing along the waistband of the drenched leather.

Roy longed for him - wanted to delve into the tight confines of Ed's pants and find everything he had to offer - wanted him naked and wet in the shower, warm and sleepy in his bed, wild and alive in his arms... . Ed's need was no less significant. He arched and flexed and dragged at Roy as if he couldn't stand to lose a fraction of his heat, words catching in his throat and falling from his lips in a formless plea of desire.

Ed wanted it now, but what about tomorrow? Would he wake up and look at Roy with anything other than hate in his eyes?

If they had sex tonight, how could Roy convince himself that it would be anything other than rape?

The thought cut through his mind like a dagger, sharp and shocking, and he snatched his hands away from Ed's skin as if he'd been burned. Ed opened his eyes, blinking water from his lashes as he gave Roy a look of dazed confusion. His fingers plucked at the shirt again, and he pressed himself up on tiptoes, whimpering when Roy held him gently at bay.

'No, Ed. No.' He bit his lip, hating himself for all that he had already done. Ed was in no fit mental state to make a decision about anything. He was completely at the whim of the drug in his bloodstream. Even if he gave consent, even if Roy asked him straight if he wanted sex and he agreed, it would be meaningless. He didn't have the capacity to make decisions, and Roy had almost let himself forget that. 'We can't.'

'I want to,' Ed husked, as if that was the only deciding factor. His tongue darted out, lapping at the water on his lips, and his expression changed, lit up by a bright idea. 'Please?'

Roy gave a strained smile and shook his head, trying to keep his voice level as he cupped Ed's face, his hands hovering a hair's breadth from wet skin. 'Believe me, Ed. I want to as well, but you're not yourself right now.' His words turned tight. 'I'd be taking advantage of you. You'd hate me for it, and I'd never forgive myself.' He tried to find any element of understanding in Ed's expression. 'At any other time I wouldn't think twice, Ed, but tonight.' Roy swallowed, his words hoarse as he carried on. 'If you asked me for this tomorrow, I wouldn't even hesitate.'

'But I want you now.' There wasn't anything childish in his words, just an intensity that made Roy's stomach shiver anew. Ed rubbed against him again, more loving than passionate this time, and his arms wrapped around Roy's waist as if to anchor himself. 'Tomorrow will be too late.'

Something stuttered in Roy's chest. Until now Ed had been making sense, but that last part – 'Why too late?' he asked, trying to read his expression. 'Ed?'

There was no answer; Ed was staring at the blank white tiles, watching the water run over their shining surface and skimming the fingers of his right hand through the moisture. He was tracing patterns, Roy realised: arrays that were obliterated by the torrent the second they came to life. It was probably for the best; he wouldn't trust Ed not to hurt himself with a wooden spoon right now, let alone allow him to transmute anything.

Regret ached like a burn beneath his skin, and Roy grimaced as his body whined petulantly. It had been deprived and, while his mind knew it was necessary, a dark, aching part of him didn't care about anything but the hot, bare flesh in front of him.

Reaching around Ed's body, Roy turned off the taps, listening to the water gurgle down the drain as he stepped out. His clothes were soaked through, and he knew he should probably have stripped Ed entirely to wash away any remnants of the drug, but he didn't have the strength. Ed was hard enough to resist now. Naked? Roy wouldn't stand a chance.

Taking Ed's hands, he steered him away from the wall and helped him clamber out of the bath before wrapping a towel around his shoulders. 'Ed, I'm going to get you some different clothes to wear. Something dry, all right?' He pushed him carefully down on the floor until he sat cross-legged, arms-length from anything that might hurt him. 'Stay there. I'll be back in one minute.'

Leaving the door open, he smiled as Ed started to hum something to himself. He recognised the tune, even though Ed didn't seem to have much luck hitting quite the right notes. It was a comforting thing, a tether of sound between them, and he ducked into his bedroom before scrabbling in the bottom drawer for pyjamas.

He didn't wear them much, preferring to heap quilts on the bed and sleep nude rather than bother with clothes that only tangled around him as he stirred in his sleep. Still, he had two pairs, and even if they didn't fit Ed very well, at least they weren't wet. The humming hadn't paused, and Roy made his way back to the bathroom, handing Ed a pyjama shirt and pants before saying, 'Get undressed and put these on. You'll be more comfortable. Wait!'

Roy closed his eyes as Ed's hand flew to his belt, following the orders without question . Sopping leather hit the floor with a "smack", and Ed's humming was harmonised by the whisper of fabric. 'I'll be outside the door,' Roy said, ignoring the way his voice cracked as he screwed his eyes up tight, resisting the urge to peek. 'Stay there until I come and get you, all right?'

He fled, there was no other word for it, pulling the door closed so that it stood ajar as he leaned back against the wall. This was insane. How had Hughes thought he was the best person to look after Ed while he was like this? How was he meant to survive this beautiful kind of torture?

Roy shook his head, reaching down to finish undoing his shirt buttons and peel off the wet material. It was too late to change his mind now. The truth was, there wasn't anyone else. Without Al here, Roy was the next logical choice to take care of Ed, and it was a responsibility he wouldn't shirk, even if it killed him

Pulling on the white pyjama t-shirt, he changed his pants. His skin was still clammy and his hair dripped down the back of his neck, but it'd do. At least he was relatively comfortable.

It took a moment for him to notice that something was missing, and he looked back at the bathroom door. Ed wasn't humming any more. In fact, the only noise he could hear was a rapid squeaking, like someone rubbing their fingertip over a pane of glass. Cautiously, he pushed the door aside, pausing on the threshold and frowning in confusion.

Ed was kneeling on the floor, dressed in the clothes Roy had given him. The pants were too long and covered his feet, and the shirt gaped open like strange, white wings, but he was decent. Wet hair tumbled down around his shoulders, swaying back and forth as he scrubbed at the tiled floor with his towel.

'What are you doing?'

'Getting the blood out,' Ed replied, not missing a beat. 'It's everywhere. Messy. Hate the smell.'

Roy glanced around the clinical room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Hughes had said something about hallucinations, hadn't he? Somehow Roy thought they would have started before now. Perhaps they had and Ed kept quiet about them. Either way, he was rubbing at the floor hard enough to shred the towel, and Roy stepped forward, cupping his elbow and pulling him upright.

'Leave it for now,' he said. 'Someone else can clean it up.'

'But I put it there.' Ed frowned, looking up at the ceiling and wrinkling his nose in disgust. 'I should get rid of it.'

It was eerie to hear him talking so calmly about blood, as if it was something that he saw every day, ordinary and mundane. Roy grabbed Ed's shoulders and pushed him out of the room as he suggested, 'Are you still thirsty? You can have some more water now if you like.'

Like a starving dog being offered a bone to chew on, Ed leapt on that suggestion, nodding his head as he wetted his lips. 'Thirsty,' he said by way of confirmation. 'Really, really thirsty. Have to keep drinking if we're going to get through the desert. Who's that?' He pointed down the stairs, and Roy, who was still wondering if an imaginary desert was better or worse than a room full of blood, gazed stupidly at his empty hall.

'There's no one there, Ed.' He grimaced, worried and wondering if this kind of thing was normal. He needed to check the leaflet Hughes had given him, because Ed going from horny as hell to clearly delusional was more than a little concerning. 'Come on, let's get you another drink.'

Roy led him down the stairs, noticing that Ed's hands were shaking, and his movements had become jerky and uncoordinated. Twice he almost pitched forward, and it was only Roy's arms around him that stopped him taking a tumble. 'Is the person still there?' Roy asked, pressing his lips together as Ed shook his head. 'All right, stay here. I'll get you some water.' He turned away, rushing towards the kitchen as he called out, 'Talk to me. Who did you see?'

'A boy. Little boy. Maybe six or seven. He walked out the door. Looked angry or sad -' Ed's stream of words hesitated, and when he spoke again he sounded forlorn. ' - hurt. He left blood on the floor. Roy, where are you?'

'In the kitchen,' he called out, filling a fresh glass to the brim with water. 'Just wait there, okay, Ed?' Silence was his only reply, and he flicked water off his hand before going to investigate. 'Ed?'

The living room door was wide open, and Roy peered in to see Ed kneeling at the hearth, staring at the fire that still leapt in the grate. His knees were drawn up to his chest and his arms were wrapped around them, but he wasn't still. His fingers were drumming, and his jaw kept clenching as if he were grinding his teeth.

Roy turned his back for a second, putting the tumbler down on the desk before looking back at Ed. He had moved, getting up onto his knees and leaning forward towards the grate as if hypnotised.

'No!' Roy leapt forward, grabbing Ed's wrist before he could plunge his left hand into the voracious flames. 'What the hell are you doing?'

'Catching fireflies,' Ed told him, his expression puzzled as he looked back towards the shadowed chimney and the sparks that whipped upwards. 'Never seen so many.'

Roy closed his eyes. How much worse were the hallucinations going to get? So far Ed didn't seem afraid of anything, not the bloodied bathroom or the boy he'd seen standing in the hall, but it seemed it was getting more difficult for him to tell what was real and what wasn't. How much longer before he hurt himself reaching out for something that wasn't even there?

Taking Ed's other arm, Roy pulled him gently away from the fire, trying to think of something that Ed could do that would absorb the restless energy thrumming through his body. His eyes were bright and sharp, but tired shadows stamped themselves over Ed's features and, despite a long day at work and a hard night on a stake-out, he seemed a million years away from a good night's sleep. What was Roy meant to do with him?

'Need a pen,' Ed said suddenly. 'Paper. Something to draw on.'

'Why?' Roy asked suspiciously, frowning as Ed jumped to his feet, scurrying over to the desk and tugging on drawer handles. He rifled through each one until he found what he was looking for, then darted back to the fireside. He knelt on the floor, his body hunched over and his right arm curled around the paper like a child guarding his school work from prying eyes. The quick, erratic movements of his body stilled into something more calm as he began to move the pencil over the blank canvas, creating the smooth outline of a perfect circle.

Roy tensed, ready to leap on him if he showed any signs of performing alchemy. He might not see Ed drawing arrays very often, but he knew the cornerstones of a transmutation when he saw them. Except the symbols Ed was outlining meant nothing to him. They weren't the straight, solid lines of Amestrian alchemy, nor the sweeping whorls that occupied Ishballan designs. This was something more organic: life put on the page, and Roy shifted closer as he watched over Ed's shoulder.

At first glance it was a mess of curves and edges, but as Ed carried on Roy realised that there were shapes within the chaos, natural things, like butterflies and leaves in the wind, stark trees on a hillside. Every time he shifted his gaze he saw something different, and he found himself held motionless, stunned to silence by what he was witnessing.

Of course, every alchemist had some artistic ability. It was essential, because one wobbly line in an array could cost you your life, but few had the imagination for something like this. For many, there were schematics and sketches, not art. Arrays had a purpose, and it was nothing to do with beauty, not really. Yet what Ed was doing was so much more than that.

Roy blinked, and his focus shifted allowing him to see the skeleton of what lay beneath it all. The intended flow of energy was clear, and the pictures that at first seemed to have no purpose except to be admired suddenly became eddies in the current, storage cells and amplifiers, and Roy was reminded once more that Ed wasn't just a good alchemist: he was a genius. Great poets took drugs and wrote sonnets that broke hearts and inspired others. Ed tore apart the fundamental basics of alchemy and bent them to his will.

Sitting back, Roy crossed his legs, watching the firelight catch in the golden fall of Ed's hair. The shirt he'd given him to kept slipping off his shoulders, the sleeve pooling around his elbows until he hitched it out of the way, never pausing in what he was doing. Night moved on, each second marked out by the ticking of the clock, and more than an hour had passed when Ed suddenly looked up, pencil hovering above the page as he stared into the corner of the room.

There was nothing there, not even cobwebs, but Ed's earlier expression of happiness had faded. Now his lips were slightly parted, and a frown of worry creased his brow. His shoulders trembled with a shiver, and Roy noticed that the flush had vanished from his face, leaving him drained.

Whatever Ed was seeing must have disappeared, because he turned his attention back to the paper, carrying on as if nothing had happened. He didn't acknowledge Roy's presence in any way, or notice the clock toll out four in the morning, but every few minutes he'd glance up again, and Roy could see the fear rising like a tide.

The sixth time it happened, he reached out, brushing Ed's hair back behind his ear and catching his breath as the younger man flinched. 'What can you see?' he asked, noticing that Ed wasn't meeting his eyes, was keeping his head ducked and his face turned away as if he didn't want to look up. 'What's wrong?'

Ed shook his head, lips pressed tight in a grim line as he tapped the pencil against the paper. He kept stealing quick, cringing stares at the corner of the room, and Roy got stiffly to his knees, moving around to block Ed's view. 'There's nothing there, Ed. It's not real.'

He looked up, meeting Roy's gaze with dull eyes for no more than a heartbeat before he turned away. 'What about you? Are you real?' Ed asked, and Roy's heart ached at the doubt and hope in his voice.

He reached out and took Ed's left hand, meshing their fingers together. 'Yes, Ed. I'm right here – as solid as you are.' He examined Ed's features, trying to find clues as to what was happening. The gleam had gone from his eyes, leaving them downcast and animal-

[thia]

wary, and there was no sign of his previous open smile. Was the drug wearing off, or was this just a different phase of the high?

A shiver racked through Ed's body, grasping him so tightly in its clutches that Roy winced in sympathy. His shoulders were hunched, and he clamped his eyes shut as he swayed against Roy's chest, trembling like a leaf. 'I'm tired,' he whispered, his voice grating in his throat. 'Weak. Can't fight like this.'

'You don't have to,' Roy replied softly, wishing he knew what Ed was seeing. Maybe if he understood he would know what to say to make it go away. Instead he had to guess at the right words and hope that Ed would believe him. 'The fighting's over. You won. You can rest now.' There was no answer, and Roy got to his feet, pulling Ed up after him and looping an arm around his waist to support his weight. 'Let's get you to bed.'

They made their slow, unsteady way back up the stairs, leaving the fire to burn itself out in the grate. Roy had a spare bedroom, but there was no way he was leaving Ed alone in there. Hallucinations could easily become nightmares, and if Ed awoke frightened and disoriented then he wanted to be there to help soothe him again. In the end, they'd both be better off in Roy's room. He would have his familiar surroundings, and Ed would have a big, warm bed to curl up in.

He pushed the door aside and flicked on the lamp before peeling back the covers and sitting Ed on the edge of the mattress. 'Do you need anything? Food, a drink?' Roy frowned as Ed shook his head, still not looking up to meet his gaze. 'You can lie down, you know,' he pointed out when Ed didn't move. 'You must be exhausted. Don't you want to sleep?'

Shoulders lifted and fell in an ambivalent shrug, and Roy shook his head, taking matters into his own hands. It was simple to give Ed a push back into the depths of the pillows and drag the quilt over him, and he watched, confused, as a few complicated shuffles took place before the pyjamas Ed was wearing were dumped on the floor.

'They've got teeth,' he said by way of explanation, turning so that he lay on his side and pulling his knees up to his chest. 'Bit me.'

Roy swallowed against the dryness in his mouth, trying not to dwell on the fact that Ed was lying naked in his bed. 'Shut your eyes and go to sleep,' he said. 'You'll feel better in the morning.' He glanced towards the window, seeing the first silver light of the new day beyond the curtains. They'd been up most of the night but, even now, Ed didn't seem willing to settle down.

'Where are you going?' The question was tight with fear, and Roy looked back at Ed's face with surprise. Before now he hadn't seemed scared, but that had changed. He was huddled in the bed, watching Roy from behind the fall of his hair with wide, uncertain eyes. 'Please don't leave.'

'I'm not going anywhere, Ed. I'll be on the floor.'

'No!' Metal fingers grabbed Roy's wrist, pulling with surprising strength. 'You can't leave me here!' Ed's breathing had accelerated, and his shoulders were shuddering visibly. Even facing down known serial killers Ed didn't flinch, but now he seemed almost paralysed by the twist of his emotions.

After a few seconds' hesitation, Roy climbed onto the mattress, lying on top of the quilt that covered Ed before pulling some spare blankets over himself. They scratched at his skin, but he'd slept with ease in more uncomfortable situations. Besides, it was clear that if Ed was going to get any rest, then he needed Roy by his side.

It was instinctive to bundle Ed close to him, wrapping him up and holding him against the steady patter of his heart. It was as much to comfort himself as to give Edward peace; Roy wasn't used to seeing him like this – at the mercy of his fears. Even as a child entering the adult world of the army, his courage never seemed to falter, but that bravery was gone. He knew Ed would see it as a weakness, but Roy knew better. To be human was to know fear and, just because it was hidden, that didn't mean it wasn't there.

'Can you leave the light on?' Ed asked from Roy's chest, his voice sounding strangely small.

'Will it make you feel better?'

Ed's sigh whispered against his neck, and Roy almost didn't hear his answer. 'Bad things happen in the dark.'

Roy frowned, feeling something twist, tight and painful, in the pit of his stomach. He almost asked Ed what he meant, but the words died on his tongue as he shifted closer, letting his cheek rest against the damp crown of Ed's head. 'Go to sleep,' he murmured, allowing himself to brush a kiss against Ed's hair as his voice caught in his throat. 'I won't let anything bad happen to you. You're safe here.'

'I know,' Ed whispered back, his tense muscles slowly relaxing as he nestled himself closer to Roy's warmth. 'I'm always safe with you.'

Gradually, his breathing levelled out, becoming deeper and steadier as sleep tugged him into its oblivion, but Roy didn't follow him. Instead he lay at Ed's side and watched the shadows beyond the window lighten with the first soft hues of sunrise, trying to ignore his own fears.

When Ed opened his eyes again, would he be himself once more: vivid and passionate and everything that Roy wanted, or would the toxic touch of the drug still linger on? Would he even remember what had happened tonight, or would everything be lost in a dizzy haze?

Only time would tell, and Roy was left alone to wait.

Darkness consumed him. It seeped into Ed's nose and mouth, pressing down on him until he couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, couldn't even move. Part of his mind knew that this was normal; it happened every night, but sleep's soft touch had become a shroud, dragging him further and further away from the warm haze of existence.

Only the heat next to him kept him grounded. It reminded him that this was not the dead, vacuous plane of the gate. This was not endless oblivion. It would pass. Something brushed over his hair, soft and soothing, but it was not a parental touch. It was stronger than that, more possessive, as if whoever eased him through the valley of sleep did not do so out of obligation, but had made the choice to stay with him until the end.

Thoughts flitted across his mind, forming the shapes of dreams and nightmares, but both slipped through his fingers like desert sand. He wasn't asleep, but he wasn't awake, either. He hovered somewhere in between, walking the knife-edge of conciousness. The faint thrills that buzzed across his skin grew teeth and sank them into muscles and flesh, sparking aches that thrummed down to his bones.

He flinched, cringing away and scrabbling at the heaviness all around him. Instantly there were hot hands on his face, his shoulders, his arms – their touch drove away the things that hurt him, but they left their fangs in his skin and the pain continued. He wanted to cry out or fight back, but his body wasn't responding. It slumped, lax and doll-like, only held up by the arms around him.

Soft words murmured in his ear, shaping promises that Ed couldn't understand. They sounded desperate and he focussed on the voice. He knew it, had heard it before, but the picture of its owner was a smear of white and dark, blurred beyond recognition by his murky mind. In the end, that didn't matter. He trusted them, whoever it was. Even now, as nervous and unsure as they sounded, the rasping pleas were lulling him into a deeper sleep, safe in the knowledge that there was someone to watch over him and shelter him from all the ills the world held in store.

Time passed, measured out by the steady rise and fall of the chest beneath his cheek and the beat of another heart. They were his anchor, those sounds, his only tether to the world outside his head, and they guided him back to wakefulness.

Pain pounced, striking before he'd even opened his eyes, and Ed gave a faint groan as every muscle and joint was seized by fierce discomfort. Shivers tore along his spine, and he huddled deeper in the warm cocoon of the quilt. Maybe if he went back to sleep it would go away. At least he was in the comfort of his own bed... .

Belatedly, other senses woke up, chiming in to contradict that belief. His bed wasn't this big, and his sheets didn't carry the faint scent of clean sparks and spice. Opening gritty eyes, he froze, staring at the man who lay next to him. Roy's forehead was close enough to be pressed against Ed's own, and his lashes formed dark fans against his cheeks. Stubble shadowed his jaw, but there were no lines of tension or stress on his face. He was completely relaxed, lost in slumber.

Frantically, Ed searched his memory, trying to understand how he had ended up here, but he came up blank. He could remember the stake-out at the warehouse, could recall it all going to shit and then, like a broken mirror, the images shattered, no longer making sense. He could grasp glimpses of things, but they were like tatters of a dream: senseless.

Somehow, he'd ended up in Roy's bed – naked in Roy's bed. The blush slammed into Ed's cheeks as he clutched the covers like a shield. Panic clawed at him as he tried to think, but the near past was a mystery to him. All he had was the evidence of the present, and he concentrated as he tried to deduce what had happened.

They hadn't had sex. His body might ache, but it was the kind of pain received after a long, bruising fight, not a night of bedroom fun. There'd be stickiness and mess, but his skin felt clean. Besides, Ed realised, Roy was clothed. A white t-shirt was stretched tight over muscled shoulders, and there was another set of blankets pulled up over Roy's body. He was lying on top of the quilt, and the weight of one arm was curled possessively around Ed's waist as if he was trying to hold him in place.

Miserably, Ed shuffled further down the bed until the top of the duvet was on level with his eyes, leaving him peering warily over its edge. Something had happened, something not right. He felt – he felt – Ed winced, swallowing tightly against the frightened sob that wanted to catch in the back of his throat. He felt fucking awful, not just in pain but... .

The darkness hadn't gone. He remembered it from his dreams, closing in on him from all sides. Now it sat like rotten blood at his core, tainting every lungful of air and sucking away his heat. Ed ground the heels of his hands against his eyelids, trying to get control of his breathing.

He knew this. He'd felt it before and hoped, fucking prayed, that he wouldn't come across it again. After losing Al's body, after failing to bring back his mother, after screwing everything up in the worst way possible, the blackness had arrived. It wasn't anger, it wasn't loathing, both of those required a passion that he couldn't grasp. It was apathy.

Nothing mattered. Nothing. Not living, not breathing, not eating... He remembered lying in the Rockbell's house, a half person, a nothing-boy, and wishing he had the energy to reach for a scalpel and stick it in his chest. Of course, he couldn't. Back then he'd had things to do: he'd had to get the automail, get Al's body back, and, little-by-little, day-by-day, the shadows had ebbed. Years later, when he'd dragged his brother back from the gate and realised that a long life still waited for them both, the sun had finally come out in his chest.

Yet this didn't feel like clouds or an eclipse, it felt like a gaping hole in his guts, sick and dying. What had he done to end up back here? What had he done to open up the old, black wound?

'Ed?' Roy's voice was rough with sleep, more a hoarse growl than anything else ,and a few prickles of heat sparked down Ed's spine. In a second, the shadows snuffed them out like a tidal wave over candle flames, swamping through his chest and rising in his throat. It must have shown on his face, because Roy propped himself up on his elbows, one hand reaching out to hover helplessly over Ed's hair. 'What's wrong?'

He could feel the heat of him, vivid and alive and within arm's reach, but Ed's limbs were like lead. He couldn't reach out, couldn't even lift his head that fractional distance to press against Roy's smooth palm. It felt like he was encased in ice, and he wasn't even sure if Roy's flames could melt away the chilly casket that locked his skin in its grip.

'Ed, please say something?' Roy looked, not confident or smug, but nervous and afraid. His movements were cautious, like he was frightened that his presence would do Ed more harm than good, but he gradually let his hand rest on Ed's head, stroking a thumb over tangled hair as he leant back into the pillows, eye-to-eye and waiting.

'Feel like shit.' The words sounded wrecked, dead and muffled by the quilt that Ed still had pressed against his lips. He almost asked what had happened, but the question turned to ash in his mouth. What did it matter? Knowing wasn't going to make this better, wasn't going to make it go away, so why bother?

He felt blank, washed out and wiped through. The only sensations were the sick pulse of his heart and the sweep of Roy's thumb against his temple. He wondered when that had happened – when the boundary of his personal space had receded far enough to let Roy get this close. Wasn't he meant to push him away or pull him near? Shouldn't he be feeling something? Anger, excitement, happiness?

There was nothing. Roy could do what he wanted: hit him, kiss him, yell at him, fuck him. The truth was, Ed didn't care. His body wasn't his. It was a vacant shell, and even the warmth of Roy's hand on his crown was like a distant star, nothing but a dot of light on his physical horizons.

'Do you remember what happened at the warehouse?' Roy asked quietly, carrying on to fill the silence when Ed didn't answer. 'You were chasing one of the thieves. He was an alchemist. You got him, punched him in the face from the looks of it, but he threw some powder in your face. Do you remember that?'

A nod, it was all he could manage. He remembered dusty ground, the clatter of gunfire, stacked crates falling every which way as he tore after the man, focussed one-hundred percent on bringing him down. It had worked, too, but not before a handful of dusty sand-like stuff smacked him in the face, kissing across his skin and coating the inside of his mouth as he gasped in surprise. He'd broken the alchemist's nose for that.

'It was a drug called Euphoria,' Roy explained, his fingers falling still as he looked down at Ed's face. He could feel the weight of that bottomless gaze, but he didn't look up. It was easier to stare at the changeable topography of the quilt and pillows and the wall of Roy's cotton-clad chest, letting the whiteness drown him.

'You were covered in it, and it started to affect you within minutes. You were high for most of the night.' A deep breath hissed between Roy's lips, and when he spoke again Ed didn't quite understand the emotion in his words: hope, dread, or a mixture of the two? 'Do you remember anything after the warehouse?'

Ed closed his eyes, his lips twisting in a grimace as he shook his head once. There were things there, hovering in the black vault of his mind, but the images were interrupted and disjointed. They could have been dreams or reality, truth or lie, and he couldn't tell one from the other. For all he knew they were all figments of his imagination, fantasies built to fill the void.

A shiver raced through him, shaking alive the pain in his muscles, and he blinked as Roy moved, fanning the blankets out over on top of the quilt. Dimly, he could sense Roy's confusion and uncertainty; Al and Winry had been the same, all those years ago, torn between sympathy and anger. His brother had wanted to protect him from everything while Winry had longed to shake him out of it. Neither did him any good.

'You're scaring me.' It was a quiet confession, whispered against his brow. 'I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong, Ed. Are you still hallucinating? Are you in pain? Thirsty? Hungry? Do you need anything?'

Wearily, he shook his head again, taking a deep breath and summoning up the fragile, dwindled reserves of his strength as he said, 'Leave me alone.'

It sounded harsh, brutal and pitiful all at once, and he felt Roy tense as if he'd lashed out at him. Guilt was a brief bloom in his chest, crushed to a pulp before it could flourish. It was the only way to stop them worrying, then and now. He needed to hide, like an injured animal dragging itself back to its den to lick its wounds. He needed to get away.

A voice in his mind snapped that this was Roy's bed, Roy's house, that if anyone was going to leave it should be him. It growled about ingratitude and selfishness, and Ed cringed away from the inner reprimand, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth as Roy slipped out from under the blankets.

He was waiting for icy disdain, for the same kind of tone Roy employed when he did something stupid and disappointing on his latest assignment, but it never came. Instead, he sounded as if he understood as he murmured, 'If you need anything, just tell me. Try and get some more sleep. It might help you feel better.'

Ed closed his eyes as the bedroom door closed quietly behind Roy's back, wishing he could bury himself in the bed and never, ever emerge again. The disjointed, protective cloak of indifference was fading away, leaving him exposed to the maiming grasp of blacker things. He felt too ruined, scarred, ugly to belong here, too hideous to be worthy of light and air and life, but too dead to do anything about it.

He drew his knees up to his chest, trying to block out the endless litany of disgust in his mind as he fought against the sting of tears in his eyes. Grown men didn't cry, even if the damp pillow beneath his cheek told him otherwise.

Time passed. Maybe he slept, or maybe he simply stared at nothing, it was impossible to tell. Only a quiet tapping made him lift his gaze and see more than white and black. A pine door with a brass handle, which turned before someone nudged their way into the room, a plate in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

Not Roy, but Hughes, and Ed blinked at him as a fragment of memory stirred. He'd promised that he would come and check on them. They'd been in a car: dark all round and skimming street lights – doodles on a foggy window pane – Roy's arms around his waist, scooping him up like he weighed nothing and a cartwheel of sky and brickwork before he was staring at the paving and clutching rough wool in his palm.

The clarity faded, leaving Ed with a ruddy feeling of embarrassment at his core and no reason for its presence. He welcomed the heat even as he tried to understand it and bring the night back into focus, but it was like trying to catch steam. Images fluttered beyond his reach, leaving him with nothing.

Hughes gave him a faint smile before he sat down on the floor, putting the mug down on the carpet as he leaned back against the bed. The plate was balanced on his fingertips, and Ed realised he was holding it at just the right height for him to see the food: fried breakfast. Normally he would have been wolfing it down, but the smell turned his stomach, making him bury his nose in the quilt as he fought not gag.

Maes was watching him out of the corner of his eye, and he lowered the plate to the floor before reaching for his coffee. He took a sip, cradling the cup in his palms and tipping his head back so he was staring up at the ceiling. 'It's the after-effect of the drug,' he said eventually. 'What you're feeling: the depression, loss of appetite, all that. It's why we didn't put you in the hospital. As hard as I'm sure it was to keep you safe last night, I think suffering this in a clinical room would have been too much for you.'

He clinked his wedding ring against the mug in his lap, and Ed wondered if he was meant to answer. He knew he should thank Hughes for that consideration, because the thought of hospital, doctors, starched sheets and cool, uncaring walls while he felt like this was almost too much to bear. The words rose in his throat and lodged there, making every breath painful, and Ed gritted his teeth, hating himself for his weaknesses.

'I left you with Roy because I knew he'd be the best person to take care of you. He's good at this kind of thing, at helping people without expecting anything in return.' Hughes shifted his weight, moving so that Ed could see his thoughtful profile. 'If you did anything embarrassing he wouldn't tease you about it later. If you told him anything you'd rather you hadn't, then he'd keep it quiet.' Maes shrugged. 'He hasn't even said anything to me, just that he's worried about you.' Green eyes looked at him, as astute as ever. 'So am I, for that matter. I'd ask if you were all right, but I can see it would be a stupid question.'

He ran his hand through his short hair, his spectacles gleaming as he sighed heavily. 'I spent a few hours this morning researching all I could about Euphoria. How you feel right now - it'll pass. I know it doesn't feel like it, but it will fade away, probably sooner than you think. You just need to give it time. I'm talking hours, a couple of days at most, Ed, nothing more.'

Hughes' voice became hard, and he turned around on the floor so he was facing the bed fully. 'You're not stupid, I know that, but a lot of people who take Euphoria once think that the only way to get back to normality is to take it again. They don't get through the low and let their mood balance out, and they get stuck in a cycle.' He gave a worried frown when Ed stayed silent. 'Another high won't make this go away; it'll just make things worse in the long-run, understand?'

Ed tried to find his voice. Hughes was right: he wasn't stupid. He'd seen what drugs did to people, how it took their future and obliterated it in a haze of addiction, reducing every ambition down to nothing but the next fix. Before, he'd thought they were stupid. How could anything be good enough for that? How could their lives be equivalent exchange for a few hours of not caring about anything, but now he knew. It wasn't cravings that sent them back, it was dread. They feared the low – this darkness, this cold, this hopelessness – and some small part of him understood that.

If someone offered him a pill, a smoke, a drink, and told him it would make him feel more like himself, he'd take it in a second. It would be the quick way out, he knew that, but he'd fought so long and hard to do what was right, rather than what was easy. Couldn't he take a short-cut, just this once?

No. Ed closed his eyes, dragging in a deep, shivering breath as he crushed the temptation. Even if he cracked right through with misery, he couldn't do that to Al, to Roy, to himself. He was stronger than that; he had to be. The alternative was unthinkable. He had been through these shadows before, had fought his way through and out the other side. He would do it again.

'Ed, if you say nothing else all day, I need you to promise me you won't try and self-medicate with anything.' Maes' words were quiet, and Ed knew he spoke as both a friend and the closest thing he had to a father. 'Please?'

He huddled into a tighter ball on the mattress, letting his eyes flutter in a slow blink as he murmured, 'I promise.' Gritting his teeth, he dragged the words out of himself by force. 'I'm too fucked up to even get out of bed, let alone go looking for anything to make this go away.'

Maes looked down at the floor, his expression pensive before he met Ed's eyes again. 'It'll get better by itself, and all you can do in the meantime is work out what you need -' He reached out, tapping the back of Ed's hand to get his attention as Ed looked away. 'You spend most of your life pushing yourself to keep going: another step, another array, another assignment. It's all right to stop once in a while. Don't worry about what anyone else thinks, you don't have that luxury. You know what to do to get yourself through this, and no one will think any less of you for asking for it.'

Ed curled his automail fingers, listening to the plates rasp over each other and watching them sparkle and gleam. 'I kicked Mustang out of his own bed,' he confessed quietly. 'Don't want to be seen like this.'

'Like what?'

It was quiet and curious, and at another time Ed would have been impressed by Maes' ability to make others trust him so easily, but he was too weary to do more than sigh. It wasn't an easy thing to explain without sounding deranged. How could he tell a man who was always happy and smiling that sometimes every emotion became an oil-slick? In the end he could only shrug, worthless and broken in the nest of the quilt and blankets.

'On the outside, you don't look any different,' Hughes said softly, 'but I know what you mean: It's hard to believe you can appear normal when there's nothing inside you but rot.' It sounded as if he spoke from experience, and a glimmer of curiosity broke through the murk of Ed's mind. 'It happens to everyone at some point or another. Some people go through their whole lives with a certain darkness to their smile, others are more extreme.'

Maes shifted, leaning back on his hands and tipping his head to one side as he examined Ed's face. 'It's not the depression that makes people think better or worse of you, it's how you handle it that counts. You might think you're being strong by hiding how you feel but, in the end, your friends end up hurt because you didn't let them help you.'

Ed watched as Hughes got to his feet, looking idly around the room before he spotted a run down alarm clock. With swift movements he grabbed it and wound it up, talking all the while.

'There aren't many soldiers who make it through a war without suffering something for it. They might not be bruised or bleeding, but they hurt all the same. When I think of things that I've done, think of how the world's never going to be good enough for my perfect daughter -' He shrugged, his lips twisting into a rueful smile. 'I'm telling you this because I do exactly what you're doing now.' He looked at Ed over the top of his glasses. 'I hide until either I manage to drag myself back out into the light or someone else does it for me: Gracia or Roy, normally.'

He twisted the clock's hands so they told the right time and put the small contraption on the bedside table as he murmured, 'You're stronger than me, Ed. Wait a few more hours and you'll start to feel more like yourself, okay?' Bending down to pick up the plate and cup, he balanced them neatly in his hands before turning away. Reaching out for the door, he murmured, 'Get some rest, and remember that people want to help you. You don't have to suffer in silence if you don't want to.'

Quietly, he stepped out into the hallway, closing Ed in with the peace. The clock on the bedside table ticked out a comforting rhythm, and chinks of sunlight crept around the curtains. Dimly, the sounds of Central's Sunday reached Ed's ears. There were cars out there, people going about their business and hurrying on through their lives, but they could have been in another universe.

Hughes' presence had brought a glimmer of warmth, but it was already ebbing away. Ed needed human contact; he knew that in the same way a sick man acknowledged the need for medicine. He needed to feel the undeniable pulse of life beneath someone else's skin – a constant reminder of what he was striving to reclaim. He couldn't even feel the throb of his own heart any more. It was still there, beating beneath his ribs, but it felt wooden and sharp.

Stiffly, he reached out, pulling at the pillow on which Roy had slept and dragging it down the mattress until he could wrap his arms around it. The feathers inside shifted and sighed, denting easily beneath Ed's strength: something to hang onto.

If Al had been here, Ed knew his brother would have stubbornly wrapped his arms around him. Even if Ed pushed him away he'd cling on, because he knew what Ed needed even when Ed himself couldn't work it out. He wouldn't ask questions, wouldn't even say a word unless Ed spoke to him, he'd just be there, strong and reliable, a physical reminder of all the things worth carrying on for.

But Al was in Risembool with Winry, and Ed wouldn't wish him back for the world. Al was looking to the future, looking to the girl he wanted to spend his life with, and Ed didn't want to make him worry. One of them, at least, should have a shot at normality.

Besides, it wasn't like Ed was going to do the whole "wife and kids" thing, not when his preferences lay in other directions. He gritted his teeth as another litany of shame and disgust began in his mind, trying desperately to stifle the harsh words with his arguments.

So he didn't like girls, so what? It wasn't like he was the only man in the world that felt that way. People might think it was weird, wrong, some kind of sickness or perversion, but he knew better, and that was all that mattered. That and Al, who'd just smiled and said "okay" like he'd known it all along.

Knows you spread your legs for men? Knows what you let them do?

Ed sighed, clenching his hand into a fist as his doubts reared up once more. He'd tried to think of women like that, as more than walking, talking others and as something he'd want to touch and hold and take to bed, but it didn't work. Some of them were interesting and some of them were pretty in a purely aesthetic sense, but none of them lit a fire beneath his skin. Not like men – not like Roy.

Think your mother would be proud?

'Shut up!'

His words hissed furiously in the silence of the room, and he dragged the quilt up over his head to stare into the gloom. The pillow was a warm weight against his chest, and he buried his face in it and took a deep breath. It smelled of spice with the faintest suggestion of wood smoke; Ed curled around it pathetically.

Picking at the cotton pillow-case, he closed his eyes, wishing it was as easy to stop the dizzy accusations in his mind. At first he'd thought the thing he felt for Mustang was a crush: embarrassing and inconvenient, but he'd get over it. There were others, now and then, some lasted a night while others stuck around for a couple of months, but it was always superficial. The burn of lust fizzled and faded, leaving nothing in its wake. They weren't alchemists or soldiers – they didn't understand. They didn't look at him with dark, knowing eyesand listen to everything he said as if his opinion was important.

They didn't make his heart clench when they said his name, and couldn't fill his stomach with hot, thrashing butterflies of nerves and excitement with nothing more than a glance. He might have wanted those others for a while, but he'd never needed them like he needed Roy. He'd never given them all of himself, and yet, even though he'd never shared more than the occasional hot look with Roy, he still trusted him more than the rest put together. Shouldn't that mean that Ed could rely on him for anything, no matter what?

With a sigh, Ed realised that he had to take things into his own hands if he was going to get through this, and lying in bed feeling sorry for himself wasn't the way forward. He needed help, and the only way he was going to get that was if he asked for it.

Determination was a glowing coal in his chest, but the ruddy warmth mottled with black as soon as he began to move. Chills seized him, wrapping like chains around his body as every muscle, bone and joint quivered with pain. He felt as if he'd been fighting a running battle all night, living on a wire of adrenaline that had drained to leave him battered and weak.

With a groan, he shifted beneath the covers, reaching over the edge of the bed and groping for something to wear. All he found were some pyjama pants, and he dragged them on. They draped over his feet, freakishly long, but at least he was half-decent. He didn't know where his clothes were, and he wasn't sure he even wanted to find out. The memories of the night remained frustratingly elusive, shifting like veils in his mind. He kept catching fragments, nothing more, and he couldn't tell what was real and what had been nothing but a dream.

Dredging up what felt like the last of his strength, he climbed to his feet, wrapping the heavy quilt around his shoulders to keep some of its feeble warmth next to his skin. The mirror in the corner reflected his image, and he grimaced at the mess. His hair was everywhere, and his face looked pale and wrung out. He didn't dare meet his eyes in the glass, knowing what he would see. They would be lifeless, and he didn't need reminding of the blackness at his heart.

The bed beckoned to him, a rumpled mess of sheets and promises, but Ed made himself turn away, brushing back the curtain to peer outside at the world he was meant to be a part of. It looked cold and clear. Weak sunlight poured down from the rooftops and gleamed off of the cars, and Ed pressed his palm to the window, feeling the icy bite of the glass against his skin as he watched a couple hurry along outside, their coats flapping in the wind that blustered down the pavement.

Behind him, the door swung open, and he looked over his shoulder to see Roy pad into the room with a tall glass of water in his hands. He was still wearing the white t-shirt and a pair of faded pyjama pants similar to the ones slung low over Ed's hips. He was unshaven, and his hair was a tousled mess; it was a far cry from the calm, professional image he portrayed in the office. Did he always look like this at home: open and relaxed?

Dark eyes found him in an instant, and a faint smile curved Roy's lips as if he was pleased to see that Ed had got out of bed on his own accord. He shifted closer, holding out the glass and waiting as Ed took it in his automail hand. 'You need to drink it all, even if you don't feel like it,' he explained softly. 'You spent most of last night demanding water, but you might still be dehydrated. How do you feel?'

He grimaced and shrugged, keeping the quilt clutched around his shoulders with his left hand as he took a sip of water. Its coolness trailed down his chest and pooled in his stomach, making him shiver, but he drank it all anyway. When he was done, Roy tugged the glass from his grasp and put it on the bedside table before turning back and looking at him closely.

Ed thought he would feel nothing under the scrutiny, thought any desire would be too smothered to come to life, but faint sparks shot through him, leaving his chest that little bit lighter and driving back some of the clutching chill. It wasn't much, but it was better than the hollow, sucking emptiness, and he let himself cherish the flicker of sensation.

'You're still shivering,' Roy murmured, hesitating before holding out his hand. 'There's a fire lit downstairs. You can curl up on the couch and sleep down there if you want.'

'Thanks,' Ed managed, wincing at the roughness of his voice. 'Sorry that I told you to leave. I should have been the one to get out, not you.'

Before he had even finished speaking, Roy was shaking his head. 'Don't mention it. I would have slept in the spare room, but I was worried that your hallucinations were going to get worse.' He paused, glancing away before adding, 'I didn't want to leave you on your own.'

That was the second time he'd mentioned hallucinations, and Ed wondered what he'd done to startle the unshakable Mustang. They seemed to be plaguing him, and Ed felt a prickle of unease as he thought of all the shadows in his subconscious that might have taken shape. 'Thanks,' he said again, feeling stupid for repeating himself. 'Hughes said that you took care of me. You didn't have to do that. You could have just dumped me back at the flat. I'd have been all right.'

Doubt was thick on Roy's features, and Ed winced, wishing he knew why. He didn't ask, and Roy didn't offer the information. Instead he pulled the quilt up further around Ed's shoulders and nudged him gently across the room, matching him step for step as if he thought it was unwise to leave Ed's side, even for a few seconds.

'It was here or the hospital. None of us were going to leave you on your own, Ed.' Roy paused at the top of the stairs, hesitating before he added in a quiet voice, 'You almost stuck your left hand in the fire – said you were catching fireflies. If I hadn't stopped you... ' He didn't need to finish that sentence, and Ed felt the blood drain from his face as he worked out what could have happened.

He remembered that, now that Roy mentioned it: glowing stars of light against the blackness of the chimney. They had looked like the fireflies across the fields back in Risembool. Part of him had warned him about the heat, had told him insects didn't burn, but he'd ignored it. Would he have drawn away when it started to hurt? Would he even have felt it?

'Sorry,' he whispered again, looking down at his feet. Roy hadn't sounded accusing or angry; his words were tight with concern and the sharper edges of fear. It sounded like he had spent the whole night worrying while Ed had been doing fuck knew what in some kind of trippy daze. Where was the equivalent exchange in that? He owed Roy; that much was clear. Even if he never asked for repayment, Ed would still feel indebted to him for all that he had done.

Closing his eyes, he summoned up his courage. Ignorance might be bliss, but he couldn't hide from this. That would be taking the easy way out. 'Was that the only hallucination,' he asked, 'or were there others?'

Roy bit his lip, and Ed knew from his reluctance that there had been other delusions haunting the night. Turning around, Roy lead the way down the stairs as he asked, 'Is it important? It might be best that you can't remember them. '

Ed reacted too quickly to think about it, snagging his wrist and pulling him up short. Part of him was surprised at his own familiarity, shocked that he felt as if he had the right to reach out like this, but he pushed it aside. 'I need to know. I – it's -' He shrugged as he stammered, trying to find a way to explain. In the end, he couldn't. 'Please? Is there a reason you don't want to tell me?'

Turning on the step, Roy moved his arm, shifting Ed's grip around his wrist until he could wrap his hand around Ed's palm and twine their fingers together. He skimmed his thumb over Ed's skin thoughtfully before urging him down the stairs and pulling him across the hall, not meeting his eyes as he began to speak.

'You thought my bathroom was covered in blood and that there was a desert of some kind. You saw a boy by the door, but you didn't seem to recognise him.' Roy grimaced as Ed scowled towards the threshold. 'You didn't seem frightened by any of that, but -'

'The thing in the living room,' Ed whispered, staring unseeingly as the memory began to untangle itself, no longer knotted skeins of thought and emotion but a smooth, gruesome tapestry. 'I was drawing an array by the fire, and it was in the corner.' Bile stung the back of his throat and nausea churned in his empty stomach.

His emotions must have been stamped all over his face, because Roy reached out, grasping Ed's shoulders as if he was afraid that he would crumple where he stood. Ed shuddered. He was being stupid and weak. It wasn't even real, not any more. It wasn't more than a nightmare given shape, and yet he was acting like a little kid. Roy might have respected him before, but after this?

Ed gulped in a breath, trying frantically to pull himself together, but it was useless. His feelings were too raw, sharp-edged and bitter. He couldn't push them aside or hide them behind blustering anger. They wouldn't be denied, no matter what his whimpering pride wanted.

'It terrified you,' Roy explained softly. 'You didn't lash out at it or run away, you just tried not to look at it. That was what scared me the most, seeing you unable to defend yourself against something that, normally, you'd have tried to fight.' His deep breath stirred the air, and when he spoke again it was pained. 'I couldn't even help you. I didn't know what to say or how to make it stop, so I pulled you away from it. Took you upstairs and made you go to sleep.'

He'd held him, Ed remembered. All night long there had been someone there, soothing away the jagged edges of his restless slumber. Even in his dreams he thought he'd recognised the voice, and now he knew why. Roy hadn't left him alone, probably hadn't slept himself until Ed had finally succumbed to oblivion and sunk beyond the reach of the horrors in his mind. He'd protected Ed from things he couldn't see or sense as earnestly as if they had been real monsters, and Ed swallowed a lump in his throat as he tried to speak.

Roy might not have asked what that last hallucination was, but he deserved to know all the same. He owed him that much. 'It was the thing Al and I made when we tried to get our mother back,' he confessed quietly, 'but worse. That – that was just blood and bone and a few breaths, nothing else. What I saw had a voice, enough of one to scream and shout.'

He closed his eyes, shuddering again as Roy's grip tightened in sympathy. When he carried on, his voice grated on every word. 'She was furious, in pain. Said I'd made her and she was my responsibility. Said I had to find a stone and make her whole. I'd done it for Al so I could do it for her, too.'

Shame rose up, clawing at his throat and making his eyes sting with tears that he refused to let fall, 'But I couldn't. Sometimes I don't even know how I did it for Al without killing myself in the process. I couldn't fight my way through all that again.' Something close to a sob hitched in his chest, and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Warm fingers hooked under his chin, making him lift his head to meet Roy's gaze with overly-bright eyes. 'Ed, what you saw might have been a memory of what was in that array, but it wasn't real. It wasn't your mother.' He made a small, sad noise in his throat as he swept away a falling tear with his thumb, and Ed closed his eyes, trying to stop any more from spilling over his lashes, humiliated and hurting. 'Your mother would never ask that from you. All she'd want is for you to be happy.'

He frowned with concern as Ed gulped in another shuddering breath, rubbing his hands over Ed's quilt-clad shoulders as if he was trying to instil some warmth in him. When Ed managed to stutter an apology, wiping furiously at his eyes, he shook his head. 'Stop it, Ed. I think it's the after-effects of the drugs making you this emotional, and even if it's not, you don't have to hide how you feel from me.' Roy motioned towards the living room door. 'Come on. Let's get you in by the fire. Unless you'd rather stay out of that room?'

Ed jerked his head from side to side. He hadn't run away from anything since he joined the army, and he wasn't about to change that now. 'There's nothing in there to be scared of, any more.' His voice wobbled as he said it, but Roy said nothing, giving him a gentle smile as he took his hand and led him into the living room.

Automatically, Ed's eyes sought out the corner where the creature had been lying. There was nothing there but painted walls and soft shadows, not even a blood stain on the carpet, and he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He couldn't blame that hallucination solely on the drugs, he'd dreamt it enough in the past, but never before had it seemed so tangible and real.

The fire crackled hungrily in the grate, filling the room with firelight. Drawn curtains blocked out the world, making the room seem snug and intimate despite its size. He sat down, hearing the feather-stuffed sofa cushions sigh beneath his weight as he curled up in the corner, leaving room for Roy. He'd already stolen the man's bed for hours; he wasn't about to make him sit on the floor.

'Why don't you lie down and try and get some more sleep?' Roy asked quietly. 'You still look exhausted.'

'So do you,' Ed pointed out quietly, taking in the shadows beneath Roy's eyes. 'You must have been awake for most of the night.'

Roy couldn't argue with that, and Ed took a deep breath as anxiety thrashed in his chest. The boundaries between them seemed to have blurred to almost nothing, but that didn't make asking Roy for his help any easier. Whenever Roy touched him, the darkness receded, burned off by his presence, but Ed didn't know how to explain what he wanted. Something had happened between them, something had changed, but Ed didn't remember the details. Did he really have any right to demand more from Roy than he'd already given?

'I'll sleep if you will,' Roy promised eventually, waiting for Ed to nod in agreement before turning away. 'I'll just get some blankets. The floor's not exactly comfortable.'

Maes' words echoed in Ed's head; for all his goofy smiles, the man knew what he was talking about, and Ed realised that he was right. He couldn't think about anyone else right now, he needed to concentrate on looking after himself and trust that Roy wouldn't judge him for it. He couldn't shut out the people who cared for him. He needed their help – Roy's help.

'Wait.' Ed bit his lip, as his stomach twisted itself in nervous knots. 'You don't have to take the floor. There's room on here for both of us.' His voice dropped to a murmur as he added, 'Please? I don't want to be on my own.'

He tried desperately to understand Roy's expression, looking for any sign of unwillingness or hesitance, but all he could see was a quiet understanding and, beneath that, a faint flutter of something like happiness.

'All you have to do is ask,' he replied, turning back to the couch and nudging him gently towards the edge so that he could lie between Ed's body and the back of the couch, chest to chest. His presence was a wall of warmth, and Ed tried not to press himself too close, still not sure of how much he was allowed. Roy's tentative arm around his waist tugged him nearer, and his voice rumbled in Ed's ear. 'I'm here for as long as you need me.'

'Thank you.' Ed let his breath out in a sigh as he let himself relax. Sometimes it seemed like he spent his life telling everyone that he could look after himself, but sometimes it simply became too much. Somehow, he had never thought that Roy would be one of the people who caught him when he fell, and yet... .

This felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Aches and pains receded, pushed back by the soft cocoon of comfort all around him, and sounds took on a tinny, distant quality. The darkness was still there, cold and absolute, but it was hemmed in on all sides. It no longer dragged at his limbs and clutched at his chest and, with each beat of Roy's heart beneath Ed's ear, it faded further, dwindling into something Ed knew he could control.

It was too much effort to keep his eyes open, and he made a sleepy sound of contentment as Roy's hand shifted, brushing a strand of hair out of his face and tucking it out of the way. He thought Roy said something, some quiet little murmur, but his mind was too tired to understand, and finally, he slipped into a peaceful sleep, safe and whole in Roy's arms.

The chime of the clock on the mantelpiece penetrated Ed's dreams. They were innocuous, harmless things about arrays not behaving the way they should, and Ed wrinkled his nose as he tried to ignore the interruption. He was comfortable and tired, and he'd give anything to be able to stay right where he was for the rest of his life.

It didn't work. In the moment that his mind had roused itself, his body had started making demands. Hunger gnawed at his stomach like a dog on a bone. It felt like he hadn't eaten all day, and it took him a few moments to realise that was exactly what had happened. The last time he'd been fed was before the stake-out, before the chase, before having drugs thrown in his face, before –

Oh, fuck.

Ed opened his eyes as the torrid blush exploded across his cheekbones, feeling like an inferno in his face. His memory, while still a little hazy in places, seemed to have recovered. A nice, neat time-line of humiliation was unwinding in his head; the warehouse, the car, the hall, the living room, the shower... .

No, he couldn't have done that, could he? It had to be a hallucination or a dream. It had to be. There was no way he could have had the balls to do that: to tell Roy out loud how sexy he was - to show him how much he wanted him. He couldn't possibly have stood just over there and clung to Roy's body as if they were stuck together with glue, licked at his neck and made it blatantly obvious what he wanted to do, could he?

Cautiously, he wriggled back far enough so that he could look into Roy's sleeping face. Earlier, he had wondered what had happened to reduce the distance between them to practically nothing, turning friendship and respect into something more intimate. Now he knew. He had basically thrown himself at Roy, open and trusting and brimming with the familiar desire he could no longer control.

He could blame the drugs, but it would be a lie. The chemicals hadn't created his need, they had simply cracked the dam that held back the flood-waters. In the past, Ed had thought of the dangers and risks, had considered how vulnerable he would be if he let Roy realise how much of an effect he had on Ed's body and mind, but that had meant nothing last night. He'd ignored all of it, and his actions spoke for themselves.

Thrills shot over his skin, sending darts of heat across his chest to pool in his stomach. He remembered the cool wall of tiles at his back and Roy's weight against him. Lingering tendrils of depression reached out to choke the sparks, but they were smoke-like and weak, and their hold on Ed's body was rapidly fading to nothing as the memories stirred his blood and turned his mouth dry.

They hadn't had sex, and Ed frowned as he tried to remember why. He could recall the intensity of humming passion in his body, knew at that point that if his choices were his next breath or Roy, he'd have chosen to suffocate for another touch, so what had happened?

His stomach twisted in knots as the most obvious answer sprung to mind: Roy didn't feel the same way – didn't want him like that. He closed his eyes in disbelief, wishing that the ground would open and swallow him. Maybe Hughes was right and Roy wouldn't tell anyone about what had happened, but that wasn't the point. Every time he stood in that office Roy would look at him and have yet another weapon to hold over his head, another way to manipulate him and tighten his leash.

Could this get any more humiliating?

Something else stirred in his mind, and Ed almost swore out loud. They'd both been in the shower; Roy had been washing the last of the drug off or something, and all of Ed's attention had been caught by the way his wet shirt stuck to his chest. He could remember staring at the lines of Roy's chest and wanting nothing more than to peel away the slick cotton and lick the water from his skin. He'd undone one button, then another, before Roy had grabbed his wrist.

'Please, Ed, I can't -'

Ed stifled a miserable groan. He'd kissed him, stifling his protests because all that had mattered was his own feelings, needs and desires. What Roy wanted hadn't even been close to the top of Ed's priorities. He'd ignored everything, every muted alarm bell in his mind, every flicker of emotion in Roy's expression and acted on impulse.

Adrenaline flooded through his weary body as he thought about getting out of here. He could grab his clothes and run, go back to the flat he shared with Al and hide in the hot flush of his mortification. How was he ever meant to look Mustang in the eye again? How was he meant to stand there and take orders from him when he'd always remember that?

Not that it was that simple. Even if he fled now, he'd still have to go back to work eventually. Maybe he could plead off sick for a couple of days, but after that he would have to return to the office. He and Al needed the money, and there was no getting out of that stupid contract.

Besides, he didn't run away from his problems. He'd just have to bear it. Maybe it wasn't something that Ed would forget in a hurry, but, to Roy, it was just one kiss among the many: nothing special, nothing different. He hadn't even wanted it. He'd told Ed to stop.

Ed's breath caught in his throat as another cool tide of memory broke over him, wiping out the heat of his humiliation and leaving him blank with surprise. Roy had told Ed to stop, but nothing else. He hadn't pushed him away or tried to put any distance between them.

Quicksilver pleasure flowed over Ed's skin as his lips tingled with recollection. Roy had pulled him closer, tangling his fingers in Ed's hair, pressing him back against the wall and sweeping his tongue into Ed's mouth as if he needed his taste. Ragged gasps of steamy air and the aching, desperate grind of their hips – so close and so hot and there was no way that Roy could have faked any of that.

It had been real, and Ed could barely breathe as he realised the truth. Roy hadn't been trying to push him away, he'd been afraid that Ed would think it was a mistake once dawn broke. Roy had been protecting him, but that didn't mean he hadn't wanted everything that Ed was offering. He had touched him like he was something to be worshipped, and even when he'd stepped away his voice had been husky and deep.

'If you asked me for this tomorrow, I wouldn't even hesitate.'

The heat of embarrassment was fading, changing into something softer but no less fierce as it dipped lower through Ed's body, making his heart race and his stomach flutter. It was his choice. If he never said anything about it, if he pretended it had never happened, then Roy would follow his lead and things would go back to normal: steady understanding and hidden heat. There was safety in that familiarity, something secure that he could rely on.

But was that really what he wanted?

Roy stirred next to him, nuzzling at Ed's hairline with a sleepy murmur. His arms tightened, pulling him near as his thumb skimmed the bare skin at Ed's waist. Roy's body was warm and relaxed, and Ed let his head rest on his shoulder as his thoughts raced.

He could have this, have Roy, if he had the courage to ask for it. Last night the drug had stripped away all of his reservations, had let him show the truth without worrying about the consequences, but now that reckless abandon was gone, and he was left embarrassed and uncertain in the aftermath.

'You're thinking so loud that you woke me up,' Roy murmured, smiling sleepily when Ed looked up at him. 'How do you feel?'

Better, Ed realised. The depression had lifted, and while his mood was still clouded, it was no longer painted in colours of slate and pitch. 'More like normal,' he replied quietly. 'Thanks.'

Roy narrowed his eyes, serious and thoughtful as he tried to read Ed's expression. 'Are you just saying that?' he asked, looking doubtful when Ed shook his head. 'You look worried about something,' he said by way of explanation, 'like you've got something on your mind.'

Ducking his head, Ed picked at the quilt as he tried to work out what to say. Butterflies thrashed in his stomach as his determination faltered. What if Roy hadn't meant it? What if he'd been telling Ed what he wanted to hear so he could put some distance between them? He hadn't mentioned anything about kisses or touches or murmured, heavy words before they'd fallen asleep in front of the fire. Maybe he regretted it – saw it as a moment of weakness and something never to be repeated.

Gritting his teeth, Ed shook his head, hating himself for being such a coward. When it came down to it, he wanted Roy enough to risk almost anything except being rejected by him. He would rather never ask and always wonder than have his timid hopes crushed: he wasn't strong enough for that, especially now. 'It's nothing,' he replied eventually. 'I'm fine, really. I – I should probably get home.'

Throwing the quilt back, Ed got to his feet, practically scrambling to get away. It was only Roy's hand around his wrist that stopped him from going any further, and he turned back to look down at him as his skin sparked with awareness.

'Wait, Ed.' Roy licked his lips, and Ed fought against the urge to do the same. He sounded breathless and nervous, but he propped himself up on his elbow. 'I think we need to talk. Do you remember any of what happened last night?'

He wished he could say no, but the look in Roy's eyes told him he would see through the lie in an instant. Slowly, he nodded his head, wincing as Roy asked, 'How much of it?'

'A few things are still blurry but I remember most of it: the guy I was chasing, how I got here -' He lifted his chin defiantly, forcing his voice steady as he met Roy's gaze. '- kissing you.'

He didn't think it was possible for Roy's eyes to get any darker, but they did, gleaming with a mixture of intense emotions that Ed couldn't decipher. His grip changed, sliding down Ed's hand and tangling their fingers together as he murmured, 'You remember what happened in the shower, all of it?'

Every last sound, word and movement was burned into his mind forever; it was something Ed suspected would torment his dreams for weeks. Rubbing his hand over his forehead, he sat on the floor, not letting go of Roy's hand as he nodded. He hadn't wanted to talk about this, hadn't wanted to put it all on the line, but it seemed Roy had other ideas. 'Yeah, it's all pretty clear.'

Ed expected Roy to demand why he'd tried to ignore it, but when he spoke his voice was strained, as if he was fighting against his own fears. 'I told you why we couldn't have sex, said that if you asked me another day I wouldn't think twice, but you said "tomorrow will be too late."' He swallowed, looking down at their joined hands and back up to Ed's face. 'What did you mean?'

He hadn't remembered that part, but now his cryptic statement seemed painfully obvious. Even in the midst of the drug's haze, he had known himself too well. Ed had known he wouldn't be brave enough to ask Roy for what he wanted, even then. Grimacing, he rubbed his right hand over the back of his neck and huffed out a sigh, his voice rough as he replied, 'I knew I wouldn't have the balls to do anything about this – whatever "this" is.

Roy paused, his gaze down-cast and his shoulders tense, but, after a few moments, he seemed to reach some kind of decision/ He shifted, slipping off the couch to kneel in front of Ed, his hand cupping his jaw and tilting his chin up so he could look into his eyes. 'What do you want it to be?' he murmured, his brow creased with confusion. 'Before last night, I thought –' He shrugged, a far cry from the smooth, confident man Ed saw in the office. 'I don't know what I thought. All I know is that I hoped I wasn't the only one feeling something new between us.'

He swept his thumb over Ed's bottom lip, his expression one of fearful hope. His voice shook a little, but he carried on regardless, never taking his eyes off of Ed's. 'I want to spend time with you – to see where this could go, but if last night was the drugs and not you -' Roy cleared his throat and drew a heavy breath. 'If that's not what you want then say so, and I won't bring it up again.'

Before, Ed had only seen glimpses of Roy's humanity. It was easy to forget that he was more than a soldier behind a desk, and Ed's heart tripped into a racing beat as he realised what was on offer: a chance to find out if the two of them could have more than

[thia]

a soldier behind a desk, and Ed's heart tripped into a racing beat as he realised what was on offer: a chance to find out if the two of them could have more than unspoken attraction and silent need. A chance to make something of it.

The words caught in his throat, blocked in by his shock, and he saw shadows of disappointment in Roy's face as he sighed, reading Ed's silence as rejection. He almost let his hand fall, but Ed caught his wrist, tugging him closer and catching his lips in a kiss, letting his body speak for him where his voice had failed.

For a few heartbeats, Roy didn't move, but finally a muffled groan rumbled through his chest. One hand slipped up into Ed's hair while the other curved around his waist, pulling him almost into his lap as he tipped his head to the side and traced his tongue over Ed's lips before dipping inside.

This was better than any drug. Ed was dizzy with it, drunk with it, and his arms wrapped around Roy's neck, holding him captive as his head spun and his blood thundered along his veins. He felt hot all the way through, burning up and breaking down. His thoughts had scattered like leaves on the wind, and all that was left to fill his mind was this.

They broke apart with a wet sound that sent fire shooting down Ed's spine, and he blinked at Roy, taking in his flushed cheeks and eyes so deep that he could lose himself in them and never once regret it. 'Course I want you - want that,' he panted, his voice gravel rough and low. 'I thought I made that kind of obvious last night.'

Roy grinned, nuzzling his nose against Ed's. 'I needed to hear it,' he murmured. 'I needed to make sure it was what you'd choose when your head was clear.' His hands moved to stroke at the nape of Ed's neck, his voice no more than a thrilling growl as he said, 'You were so happy last night, at least at the beginning. I kept wondering if there was any way I could make you smile like that – like you didn't have a care in the world, and I realised how much I wanted to have the opportunity to try.'

Ed's heart twisted in his chest, his cheeks flushing as the grin pulled at his lips. 'So try.' He leaned in, sweeping his tongue into Roy's mouth and losing himself in the kiss.

There was no telling what the future held, but right here, right now, he knew he had never felt so good. Maybe they wouldn't last, perhaps the odds were stacked against them, but he was willing to risk it all for a shot at happiness.

It had been seven months since Roy had helped Ed through the dizzying high of the Euphoria, had stood in the shower and kissed him under the thrumming cascade, and it was still just as new and thrilling as the first time.

Warm water shimmered down around him, filling the air with coils of mist that dampened every panting breath. Cool tiles pressed against Ed's back, and he arched away, tipping his head back in delight as he pressed himself down to meet Roy's thrusts. Good, good, so much good and he should have known that if kissing Roy broke his brain then this would take him apart and put him back together better than before. He scrabbled at Roy's slippery shoulders, muscles flexing as he held up his own weight, legs wrapped tight around Roy's waist.

It had taken practice to get the position right, to find out the best way to do this without slipping and banging their heads on the taps, but oh it was worth it. Ed's skin danced, tortured with pleasure by the slick water and the band of Roy's arm across his back. Roy's right hand was splayed on the tiles, keeping their balance as his tongue lapped along Ed's collarbone and up his throat, a flash of burning heat amidst the downpour.

Something sparked in the pit of Ed's stomach, blooming upwards and wiping everything out in a buzz of sensation. He could barely breathe, blind and deaf to everything except the thunder that rolled through his body, shaking him with its force. His drawn out moan echoed around the bathroom as Roy's rhythm changed, becoming more ragged as he reached his climax, and Ed growled in appreciation as Roy buried his face in the crook of his neck, shaking through and through.

'God, I love you,' he gasped, nuzzling at the thrumming pulse in Ed's neck, almost purring in the aftermath of their pleasure.

'I love you, too,' Ed replied, feeling the familiar, undying rush of happiness at the confession. He gave a pant of laughter, letting the tremors fade from his body as he clung to Roy, weak and sated. There were so many ways to get high, so many things a person could inhale or consume, but Ed would bet his life's wages that none of them were as potent as the simple joy of being wanted.

Roy was his drug, and Ed was perfectly addicted.

The End

[beautifulfic]

Wow! Wonderful job. It shows a lot of skill that you were so effectively able to copy and paste this from my archive page at fanfiction.net/~beautifulfic or maybe you got it from my LJ. Either way, GREAT JOB. I hope you did not break a sweat in this "creative" endeavour.

The board mod has been contacted.