Tears threaten, sharp and harsh, scratching the back of his throat, he clenches his jaw, breathing through the pain of the split lip, the way his jaw creaked as if to threaten failure. Al wasn’t dead, and Ed hadn’t fucking failed, Al was alive and looking for him, he’d probably already found him so all Ed had to do was wait.

Even from here, Riza can hear how Roy screams, grainy and staticky, through the radio; “Fullmetal!”

With a surge of strength Roy didn’t know he could harness, Roy is within a handspan of Ed, wheezing, coughing. The blue of his uniform is brown, and mud disguises the grimace of his mouth as he coughs heavily, ribs protesting heavily. For a moment, Fullmetal is silent; sharp, furious gasps of air that sound painful to take. Then; “Get it off, please get it off, get it off-” Over and over, panting and desperate. Roy has never truly seen Edward Elric in the aftermath of a nightmare, but he wonders if this is what it’s like. Something that pierces your heart and leaves you empty of everything but the urge to fight and protect. Feet running, squelching through the grass and mud and Roy snarls. He throws himself those last few inches, curling himself over the first part of Ed he sees, even as he turns wild, shadowed eyes to whoever thinks they can sneak up on Roy and his subordinate. 

“No,” Torian says distantly, and he thinks Fhreyja can see the difference as She flicks her eyes from Skadge to him. Beneath her heavy brows, Fhreyja’s pale eyes stare up at him, questioningly but with utmost assurance that whatever Torian wants or is going to say, it would be worth it. Torian wants her to look at him like that every day. “No, leave him be for the moment; we’ll see how everything goes.” For the longest moment, Fhreyja only stares up at him. Torian watches her in turn, noting the curve of her cheekbones, the curl of her hair as it slips from her mussed braids. He wonders if she’ll allow him to wash it; to thread his fingers in the pale strands until pulling it taut, to comb it through with hand or brush, lay her head upon his thigh so he can braid the twin plaits she’s so partial too. Torian can’t think of anything more intimate. He wonders what she’d look like with it loose when she wakes in the morning, sleep soft and unhurried. Then, Fhreyja smiles up at him, a vicious hint to it that has Torian grinning in return; a glimpse of canine visible behind her upturned lips.