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The others were asleep. Of course they were, their consciences were clear.

Hawkeye and Mustang were still bolt up-right, the collected blankets in the cellar not enough to keep their daemons at bay.

"Sir... you should try to get some sleep." She whispered across the room to him.

"Easier said than done."

She shook her head: he was such an idiot sometimes. He carried on as she spun the chamber of her revolver.

"I've killed before... but... those men who we were fighting... were they like us?"

She looked at him quizzically. "How do you mean?"

"Fighting for a Fuhrer against their own conscience."

She quickly realised what troubles tonight had brought him.

"Sir... it was all we could do to keep ourselves alive. You're too important to..." She quickly cut herself off, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.

Not again.

"But... thanks, sir."

He looked up from examining his hands. "For what?"

"That trooper with the grenade... I didn't see him. Thanks."

"Uh... it was nothing. Can't lose my deputy now, can I?" He almost laughed at the pathetic attempt at humour, before telling himself there was nothing to laugh about.

The moon shone in through the slats that the cellar offered for a window, the troops outside already asleep from drink, an eerie stillness in place of their music and celebrating.

The glinting eyes across the room still hadn't shifted from him. He couldn't help but feel disturbed.

"What?"

"It's nothing, sir... just making sure you're ok."

"I'm fine, Captain."

She normally accepted the barefaced lie as another of the lines in this play they acted out every day of every week, always the same, with the same outcome. She would fool herself into feeling satisfied that he was in fact, perfectly ok. But this time... it was different.

"No you're not."

Mustang looked up: The script had changed.

**

Morning crept over Berlin steadily, the fingers of dawn making their way over the city. Edward yawned and roused himself from the alley, glad that no Soviets had decided to spend the night in there while he was sleeping himself. The house was just a few streets away, so he decided to take it in one straight run. Quickly he picked himself up and started off, panting as he made heavy foot-falls across the cobble-stones.

The road quickly veered right, and he stopped for a few early truck-loads of supplies, drivers probably bleary-eyed from last night and wishing the army had any coffee they could raid. He looked around, recognising his surroundings. It had only been three days, but the road was still changed completely: Rubble in the road, more collapsed houses and the newest addition, a rusted tank-shell resting to the side where it had piled into one of the appartments. He carefully avoided the obstruction and headed into the street, reaching the house. He knocked three times, hoping Hughes hadn't changed the number while he was gone.

The door was opened by a sprightly girl with flowing brown hair, who embraced him, throwing him a little off balance. "UNCLE!"

"Nice to see you again, Elycia."

She let go, looking at him from head to toe. "You look terrible."

"Thank you, Elycia... are your parents in?"

"Yeah, they're both asleep upstairs... it was a long night last night..."

The cellar door creaked open, blue eyes staring out at him.

"I see Maes found some new..." The eyes leapt towards him and bowled him over in a confusion of hugging arms, blonde hair and tears.

"EDWARD!!!"

That voice... that smell...

He hugged Winry back, his own tears mingling with hers as the dawn touched them both.

"I waited... so long to see you again!" She cried into his chest, his comforting arm on her back.

"So did I."

They held each other in the growing sunlight, Elycia closing the door gently on them both with a faint grin.

**

In the cellar, the comotion roused the others. Falman sighed and cricked his neck. All this time spent indoors and against that wall had given him a bad sleeping posture. He opened his eyes, and rubbed them, to make sure he could still see, and then wished he hadn't.

Mustang was asleep on the Captain's shoulder.

Maybe he had woken up too early?