A/N: If you'd like, read all of Ed's dialogue as if reading the German language. Not that I know a lot (i.e: knows nothing) about the German language, but the sound of the language itself is what I was going for c:

Roy Mustang was not stupid, by any means. He was brilliant, cunning, calculating, and very much the military mastermind others claimed him to be.

This is not to say he did not have the occasional lapse in judgment.

"You broke my brother!" Alphonse said accusingly, small voice frantic as his red eyes darted from Roy to his brother.

Said brother was currently standing in the middle of Roy's office, golden eyes glaring with full intensity at his commanding officer and face red with anger.

"This isn't my fault!" Roy insisted. "If you're going to blame anyone, blame Havoc! He's the one that let him sneak right on by!"

"That's not fair, Boss!" Havoc whined from the sofa next to Alphonse. "You told me the kid could handle himself!"

Ed stamped his foot on the ground. "Ver durgin shiva!" he snarled.

Everyone gave him looks varying between impatience and pity.

"Brother," Alphonse began, obviously trying to be soothing, "we still can't understand what you're saying."

This didn't seem to improve Ed's mood in the least. If anything, he looked like he wanted to put his fist through something. Probably Roy's face.

He had been this way for almost three hours now. Ever since their run-in with Carl Nickels, the Mind-Weaving Alchemist. Roy, Havoc and Edward were making a simple arrest of a rouge alchemist, and with his usual brand of idiocy, Ed had charged into the house, ignoring all protocol and Roy's orders to wait, and when Roy and Havoc finally caught up with him, Nickels was out cold on the floor, and Ed was spouting nonsense with his cocky grin as if nothing were wrong at all. It didn't take them long to figure out that his brains had been scrambled.

They had smuggled him into Roy's office at just past one in the morning and called in his brother with the hopes of him perhaps understanding Ed, or maybe having read something to help fix this whole mess. At the sight of him though, Alphonse had panicked and Ed had been livid over involving him at all.

Ed brought his hands up to dig into his scalp, dragging them down his face with a pained slowlness. He began speaking, words deliberate and exaggerated, as if communicating to an audience of simple-minded toddlers. "Ver. Durgin. SHIVA!"

Roy massaged his temple, leaning back heavily against his desk. "Fullmetal, it doesn't help for you to slow it down. You're still speaking in gibberish."

"Gah!" Ed snarled and turned, starting to pace the room like a caged tiger. "Shir dunka mit vroiency mitka! Abdul ver mitzkva! Vashda neel apervanich!"

"Maybe he'd snap out of it if we hit him over the head?" Havoc suggested.

Ed shot a withering glare his way.

"Brother, why don't you sit down?" Alphonse asked gently.

"Nashta!"

"'Nashta' is 'no,' I think," Roy commented. "Make a note of that, Havoc. It would be helpful if we could find a way to translate some of his babbling."

Ed gave him a searing look, then his eyes fell on the notepad now in Havoc's hand and something in them clicked. He bounded over, snatching the paper and pen from Havoc's surprised fingers, and started to scribble furiously.

"That's brilliant, Brother!" Alphonse cheered, shifting slightly to try to read what Ed was writing over his short frame. Ed swiveled away from him with an annoyed frown and started writing again.

Roy stared levelly. "How is it so brilliant? His brain is scrambled. Just because he's writing the words won't fix that."

Ed glowered over his paper.

"Not completely, Colonel," Alphonse pointed out, turning his attention back to Roy. "As far as we can tell, the only symptom is that he can't speak Amestrian. He's not even speaking another language, or at least, any language we're familiar with, and he we think he can understand us completely, so maybe it's only affecting the part of his brain that speaks. Writing operates in a different part of the brain, so it stands to reason that he should be able to write just fine!"

Ed smiled and nodded and gave the clipboard back to Havoc.

Havoc squinted at Ed's looping script and frowned. "Ver . . . ver doo-ha mix-rig?" He frowned at Ed, whose smile was slowly fading from his face before disappearing altogether.

Roy and Ed both groaned. So much for that.

"I'm still for hitting him over the head."

"Ver durah mikrig durkeshah," Ed muttered, crossing his arms and stalking away.

"This is getting us nowhere," Roy said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "How do we even know he can completely understand us?"

"Ver nichvik! Ver nichvik teradich!" Ed insisted.

Alphonse turned his helmet to his brother. "You can understand us, right?"

Ed nodded enthusiastically, a bit of desperation in the movement.

Roy frowned. "That's not enough to go on. As much as I hate to admit it, Fullmetal is smart. He could just be reading the tone of your voice and putting pieces together." He turned to a distraught Edward. "Okay, Fullmetal, if you can understand me, pick up a book off of the shelf and turn to page fifty-three."

Like a dog when a ball is thrown, Ed shot off eagerly for the bookcase, grabbing the first book within reach, and began furiously flipping pages. When he found the desired one, he took it to Roy and shoved it under his nose.

Roy pushed the book away from his face with an irritated look Ed's way then stared at the print. "Page fifty-three," he announced.

Havoc brightened a bit at the news. "Well, I guess he's not as broken as we thought."

Ed looked like he didn't know whether to feel relieved or annoyed.

Roy looked at the boy thoughtfully. "Just to be sure, pick up the dictionary and lookup the definition of 'beansprout.'"

That settled it for him. With an enraged snarl and a stream of nonsensical words, Ed lunged for Roy's throat, and only Alphonse's ready gauntlets kept the small blond from landing a blow. "Colonel!" Alphonse complained, easily pulling his brother back to a safer distance. "That's not helping!"

Roy chuckled. "But it makes me feel better." He put the book aside and sobered, just as Ed was winding down his rant. "Okay, so, we know he's not completely gone. We've got a one-way avenue of communication, and the biggest brain in the room is fried."

"Joul nah rich!"

"Shush, Fullmetal," Roy said. "I'm thinking."

Ed said something that was most likely unflattering and having to do with Roy's own mind.

"At least mine works properly."

"Ach il uberric."

"Bless you."

"ARGH! Vur er MURDICH!"

Havoc stared, something like reverence on his face. "They're still doing it. They can't even properly communicate, and they're still doing it."

Ed turned to the blond man. "Ver kerden nack!"

"Anyways," Roy continued over him, "Alphonse, any ideas? Anything at all?"

Al set his brother in the seat beside him. "I don't know . . . what kind of alchemy does Carl Nickels specialize in?"

"Brain chemicals," Roy supplied, picking up a manila folder from the desk behind him and flicking it open. "His alchemy deals with altering the chemicals within the brain, moving them and thus affecting certain functions of the brain."

"Like language centers?" Al suggested absently.

"Among other things. He was arrested for unauthorized experimentation on human beings. Apparently he made the Fuhrer's cousin think he was a dog for a few hours. He still barks every time he sees a cat."

Alphonse turned a wary gaze to his brother. "You don't think he might have . . ."

Ed's eyes widened. "NASHTA!" he exclaimed, waving his hands in front of him in a negative gesture. "Nastha, Er!"

Alphonse seemed to melt with relief. "Oh, good." He turned back to Roy. "All of our research has been focused on the body and soul, not the mind. Maybe if I can get to the library we'll be able to find something."

Roy shook his head. "Fullmetal can't go out like this. We can't let people know the military's brightest alchemist now has the vocabulary of a one-year old."

Ed ground his teeth together and looked like the only thing keeping him in his seat was his little brother's restraining hold.

"I can send Havoc with you, and possibly Falman."

"Come on, Boss, the library isn't even open until eight, and it's almost two in the morning!" Havoc whined. "I can't do research with no sleep!"

"Brother needs his sleep, too," Alphonse said, crimson eyes shifting to his brother. "He hasn't been getting enough recently—"

Ed shoved his arm irritably. "Scherzik, Er."

Roy wasn't surprised. He had been called to the library just the night before to come remove Edward from the property. Apparently he'd been following a lead and was unwilling to leave the building until Roy had arrived and forcibly dragged him away.

"We'll have to hide Fullmetal until we figure this out."

"Durnik?!"

"For the same reason we can't let you go to the library." Roy sighed. "Honestly, Fullmetal, what do you think it would do to your reputation if everyone found out your mind was tampered with? And really, it wouldn't be that difficult to prove you insane. How long do you think they would let you stay in the military then?"

Edward opened his mouth, closed it and grimaced, looking sobered and disturbed.

Roy forced a bit more gentleness into his voice. "So, for now, you just need to lay low . . . though that shouldn't be too difficult for you. Any lower and you might disappear from sight."

"Gerkinnak!"

Havoc cleared his throat. "Can't we just try taking a bat and—"

Everyone turned and snarled negation in some language or another.

The Second Lieutenant raised his hands innocently. "Just a thought."

Roy sighed and massaged his temples. "You can't take him back to the barracks, so you two will just have to stay here."

Ed frowned. "Et nurickvat vu?"

"I'm going home to sleep, of course. And don't give me that look, Fullmetal, you sleep just fine on that couch all the time."

Suddenly, Ed's expression went slack, as if he was reading something inside of his head. He sat up straight. "Nashta! Vu nur dikzvilt!" He stood up, gesturing to the window.

They stared at him.

"Vu nur dikzvilt! Dikzvilt!" he repeated excitedly, a grin overtaking his face. "Ergen faber ver nich suchknet er nept richen zurganach!"

"He's finally snapped," Havoc said solemnly. "He wants to jump out of the window."

Ed's eyes widened in disbelief. "Nashta! Nashta nashta nashta!"

"'No,'" Alphonse translated needlessly.

"Ver nich suchknet!" he said, gestures becoming more frantic and desperate.

He stepped for the window and as the closest one to him, Roy jumped up and grabbed his wrist. "What are you doing, Fullmetal?! You really have fried your brain if you think we're going to just let you jump out the window!"

Ed made a frustrated noise and pointed to the door, shook his head, then pointed back to the window.

"He's saying . . . to go out the window so no one sees?" Alphonse asked.

Ed grinned and nodded.

Roy hesitated. "Why? Why go outside?"

"Suchknet! Ver nich suchknet!"

"Maybe he's on to something?" Havoc suggested.

Roy frowned. "So we're just supposed to follow him out into the city? At this hour of the night?" He looked around the office. "Does anyone else think this is just a bit crazy?"

Alphonse and Havoc were both on their feet. "Brother knows what he's doing," Alphonse defended, his own voice brimming with optimism. "We should follow him!"

"Grack nit," Ed said smugly.

"I think it's crazy," Havoc chimed in. "I think this is crazy. And the Chief has always been crazy."

Ed glared.

Roy let his grip on Ed's wrist slacken, then released him. "Fine, Fullmetal. You're a child prodigy, after all."

Ed smirked, all high and mighty and superior.

"How many stupid things can you possibly do in one night?"

Edward sputtered in outrage, took a step toward Roy, then stopped himself with an obvious force of will. He clenched his fists, muttered something in his ridiculous language, and stomped to the window.

"You don't have to tease him so much," Alphonse scolded.

Roy couldn't help the grin on his face. "If Hawkeye were here, she might agree with you."

"And why isn't Hawkeye here?" Havoc grumbled. "If she were here, we wouldn't be jumping out of the window in the middle of the night."

Havoc's words sank in and they all gave a collective shudder.

"If Lieutenant Hawkeye were here, she'd shoot every one of us," Alphonse said gravely.

"Nishta," Ed agreed with an audible swallow.

Roy twitched. "I think we can all agree the First Lieutenant never needs to know about this."

"Agreed," Havoc said.

The room was silent for a moment.

Ed broke the stillness. "Vernisha," he said simply, moving to the window and clapping his hands together. Alchemic energy sizzled between his palms as he pressed them against the glass. There was an audible shriek of alchemy and the scent of ozone, then a doorway appeared in the panes. Ed threw it open, letting a gust of Central night air into the office. He clapped again and pressed his hands against the brick outside, drawing a ladder from its form.

He turned with a smirk, opened his mouth to say something smug, then frowned and shut it.

"Probably going to gloat about how he could get down without a ladder," Havoc smirked.

Ed perked up and pointed at the older blond. "Ziegen!" he confirmed, planting his hands on his hips and grinning haughtily. "Ziegen auferden."

"Shut up, Havoc," Roy muttered as he fished his gloves out from his desk drawer. "His ego's already big enough to make up for his size. He doesn't need encouragement."

"Vernack fee!" Ed shouted, looking torn between jumping out the window and attacking his commanding officer.

Alphonse came up behind him and made the decision for him. "Come on, Brother! Let's go figure out how to get you back to normal!" He clamped a leather gauntlet on his shoulder and steered him to the window.

Ed allowed this reluctantly, casting Roy one more withering look as Alphonse forced him out the window and down the ladder.

XxXxXxX

They followed Edward through the dark streets of Central, the summer night warm and pleasant as the blond led them through a maze of back alleys and side streets that Roy had never seen, much less used. Ed bounded over high fences and walls of bricks and slipped through small holes in chain-link fences, lithe as a housecat, stopping only to mutter unintelligible complaints when Havoc, Al and Roy had to stop to transmute larger openings.

"We're not all as tiny as you, half-pint," Roy grumbled as he slid through a tight gap in a fence. "Slow it down."

"Murdich!" Ed hissed. "Ver dich rigen!"

"Brother, calm down," Alphonse pleaded, shooting Roy a weary look.

"Where are we even going?" Havoc whined, brushing half an hour's worth of alley debris from his uniform pants.

Ed gave him an incredulous look. "Var nich suchknet! Erden zirich if—"

Roy held up a silencing hand. "I think it would be best if we avoided asking Fullmetal to explain anything, since he's now making even less sense than he would normally."

Ed made a strangled sound, clenched his fists and stalked away.

They followed. "Anyway, if I'm not completely turned around in this rat maze Fullmetal is leading us through, I think we're going back to the crime scene. Is that right, Fullmetal?"

Ed bobbed his head up and down, taking them out of the alley, then back up towards the main street.

"I'm not sure why, though," Havoc wondered aloud. "If you're looking for one of those transmutation circles, the techs processed the whole crime scene. If we just wait until morning, we'll have the pictures on our desks and a dozen reports by noon."

"Ver . . ." Ed stopped, then remembered himself and seemed frustrated. "Ah, michergaf," he huffed, passing under a streetlamp, and then they were on a familiar residential street. The houses stood in a neat row, with neat manicured lawns and dark windows, all decent human beings asleep at that hour. The night was dark and silent, no movement except the gentle breeze wafting through the tall oak trees.

As predicted, the Mind-Weaver Alchemist's house was right across the quiet street. It was an older home, showing the beginnings of dilapidation, but the owner had been putting up a good fight. The lawn was trimmed, the fence freshly painted, and the flowerbeds cleared of weeds: all the signs of a conscientious homeowner. All the signs of a criminal trying to keep the authorities off his back.

The crime scene investigators had packed up and left for the night, the lights out and the door locked. Gold caution tape fluttered in the warm breeze, and Ed ducked under it, stepping up the front porch and transmuting the door open.

"I'm pretty sure breaking into a crime scene is several different kinds of illegal," Havoc pointed out, following after Ed. Alphonse trekked in after him, and Roy brought up the tail.

"But you're the military," Alphonse said brightly. "You guys get a free pass for things like this, right?"

"Technically, this is unauthorized tampering with a crime scene," Roy said. Now that they were here, though, maybe he should give Hughes a call. If anything went wrong, his presence would spare them some trouble later.

The inside was dark, the ground littered with signs of Ed's struggle with the perpetrator; upturned furniture, scattered paper, and stand-up numbers for cataloguing evidence. The entryway was the most damaged, with spent shell casings, holes in the walls and carpet torn by foundation stone from one of Ed's hasty offensive transmutations.

Ed lightly skipped over the mess, bounding through the entryway and into the moonlit living room beyond. Alphonse passed Havoc and followed him, armor creaking in the silent house. "This place is kind of creepy, Brother," Al whispered.

"Nishta," Ed agreed flippantly, waving off Al's concern with a flick of his metal wrist. "Ver . . . Vas nigrit mich vladir." He pointed ahead.

Al tilted his helmet to the side. "I'm sorry, Brother, I don't know what you're saying."

Once again frustrated with the communication barrier, Ed grumbled under his breath, banged his flesh palm against his forehead and kept going.

"I don't think beating your brains in is going to help, Brother," Al said with disapproval.

"Scherzik, Er!"

"I think it will," Havoc chimed in.

"Scherzik!"

Roy sighed. He was breaking into a crime scene in the middle of Central at an unholy hour of the morning with Alphonse and a couple of children. "Havoc, stay with them. I'm going to give Hughes a call."

"Sure thing, Boss," Havoc responded, following the brothers deeper into the house.

Roy turned back and picked his way to the kitchen. He stumbled on a broken side table, nearly twisting his ankle in the process, but otherwise managed to make it into the dark room unscathed.

The kitchen was painted a cheery yellow, with lacey curtains in the windows and porcelain farm animals peering down at him from the cabinets above. Roy decided it was completely un-masculine and a bit on the disturbing side. He didn't know Carl Nickels personally, but he doubted they would have gotten along.

Roy picked up the rotary phone on the counter and dialed a number he knew like the back of his glove. It rang four times before someone picked up.

"Mrgh?"

"Hughes, it's Roy. I need you at the Carl Nickels' crime scene."

"Hmm? Nickels?" Hughes asked, some of the sleep clearing from his voice. "You need . . . Roy, it's three in the morning."

Roy smirked. "Consider it payback for all of those nights you called me before your wedding. I distinctly remember you saying you were too happy to sleep, and one day I would understand."

"You're too happy to sleep?"

"I'll be much happier when you're here to share in my misery."

Hughes groaned. "Is this actually important?"

"It's Fullmetal," Roy informed, absently twirling the phone cord around his fingers. "Nickels scrambled his brain, and now we're here trying to figure out how to unscramble it."

He could practically see Hughes' face sobering. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Roy hung up and went to find the others.

He followed a stream of Ed's nonsense down the hall to a small office in the back of the house. There was a desk in the corner covered in papers, books and folders and a single lamp lit in the corner. Models and preserved brains sat in jars along the shelves surrounded by books and vials of colorful chemicals. A long table in the back supported a plethora of lab equipment and journals, transmutation circles burned into the scorched wood.

Ed was on the floor, surrounded by several open journals. Two were in his lap on either knee, and the one in his hand was currently being shoved in Alphonse's face. The blond was babbling excitedly, and Al was nodding as if he understood, soul-fire eyes glued on the pages before him. He took the book from his older brother. "Oh, I see! Yeah, so this circle is responsible for moving acetylcholine . . . but how does that affect linguistic memory?" he mused aloud.

Ed launched into an explanation only he could understand, and Alphonse kept studying the material before him.

Havoc was leaning against the desk and looking on impassively, an unlit cigarette hanging between his teeth. His blue eyes flashed up the meet Roy's. "I have no idea what's going on, Boss."

Roy wasn't surprised. Havoc was right up there with Hughes when it came to alchemy. The two had no appreciation for the science. "Go watch for Hughes at the door. I'll take over here."

Havoc smirked. "I'll happily leave this alchemy stuff to you guys," he said, getting his feet under him and leaving the room.

Roy watched him leave, then turned to the piles of papers on the desk. He wanted nothing more than to leave it for the rest of the analysis team that would be through there later that day, but Amestris' brightest alchemist was currently explaining the finer points of brain alchemy in complete gibberish, and that couldn't stand. With a heavy sigh, he got to work.

So engrossed he was in the notes before him that he didn't realize Hughes was there until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He jumped a mile, startling Ed and Al and almost torching half the office. The flames burned just shy of Hughes' eyebrows and the man let out an undignified squeak and ducked away from the golden billows before they evaporated.

"Murdich!" Ed shouted, on his feet with his arm transmuted into a short blade. He was staring around wildly, obviously looking for the source of the trouble. Alphonse was at his side, looking ready to tackle someone to the ground, but unsure whom he was supposed to take down.

The boys soon spotted Hughes, crouching behind the desk and peering cautiously over the edge.

"Mig . . . migdoch?" Ed asked numbly, then something clicked and he rounded on Roy. "Ick vlider eren nikva?!" he demanded hotly.

"I didn't know!" Roy snapped. "Hughes, why are you sneaking around like that?!"

"I said your names four times each!" Hughes said, standing up and resituating the glasses on the bridge of his nose in front of his smoking eyebrows. "It's not my fault you freaks get so engrossed in your kooky science that you completely shut out reality!"

"Vur regen?!" Ed demanded. "Vur regen zaighan mizvah?!"

Hughes stared at him the way you stared at public spectacles and the mentally depraved. "Huh?"

"Vur—"

Ed was cut off by Roy's gloved hand clamping over his mouth. "I told you Fullmetal's brain was scrambled. He now speaks like an idiot, and we need to fix this before I lose my sanity as well."

Ed knocked Roy's hand away. "Ner emlich vas!" he snarled, turning back to Hughes. "Riden digen zur ilst nich."

Hughes kept staring.

"He knows we can't understand a word he's saying," Roy said. "I think at this point he runs his mouth just to hear himself talk."

Ed made a sound Roy had previously only associated with dying animals and turned away. He stomped up to the far wall and without preamble, pulled back and sent his fist sailing through it. Plaster and wood gave with an audible crack in the stunned silence.

He pulled out his automail with a low snarl and a string of unpleasant-sounding nonsense, brushing off white dust onto his pants and fixing his brother with a level stare. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it and glared helplessly at Roy.

Roy snickered. "See there?"

"You know, this would be more entertaining if it weren't so ridiculously early in the morning," Hughes said tiredly, running a hand down his face. "Why am I here again and not in bed with my beautiful wife?"

Roy turned back to the desk. "You're here to keep us from getting arrested," Roy informed, selecting a thick journal from a pile and tossing it to a startled Hughes. "But you might as well make yourself useful while you're here. Where's Havoc?"

Hughes wrinkled his nose at the booklet in his hands. "I left him outside, petting the neighbor's cat and smoking like a train. What exactly am I looking for? I'm an investigations specialist, not an alchemy freak."

"Just look for anything having to do with language centers or manipulating memory," Alphonse said, settling on the ground next to his brother. "We'll take it from there."

Roy dropped into the only chair, leaving an irritated Lieutenant Colonel Hughes to take the floor across from Ed.

"You're a cruel man, Roy," Hughes said, settling on the floor with a sigh.

"Verdan," Ed agreed morosely.

Roy smirked and went back to his notes.

They poured over material the rest of the night, staring and studying until the predawn light slanted through the window and birds began to fill the morning air with song.

Ed fell flat on his back with a huff, sending papers fluttering behind him like leaves in a breeze. "Mishka," he groaned.

Roy rubbed his tired, heavy eyes. "You can say that again."

Hughes gave them a bleary look. "This is getting us nowhere," he announced.

"We have to keep trying!" Alphonse said, voice more alert than Roy felt it had a right to be. Though since the suit of armor didn't need sleep, Roy supposed it made sense. "We can't leave Brother like this! What if they declare him insane? What if they ship him off to an asylum?!" His voice was gaining a hysterical edge, as if the thoughts had been plaguing him all night long and he was only now voicing them.

"Then I'm sure Fullmetal would fit in nicely. He could make all sorts of new friends."

A journal smacked Roy square in the forehead.

"Ouch!" he shouted, now completely awake and ready to maim a certain blond alchemist.

Ed glared at him sulkily. "Vur ent murdich."

"I'm going to murder you," Roy promised.

Ed smirked. "Ver nildent zich vur ack."

"Brother, please don't antagonize the Colonel," Alphonse pleaded. "He's trying to help."

Ed gave him an incredulous look. "Er!" He pointed an accusing finger at Roy. "Er, nich maldir zenfest! Heren!"

"I have an idea."

Everyone stopped to look at Hughes.

The bespectacled man stood up, dusting off his uniform as he did. "I may not be a man of science, but I know something about typewriters." He stepped around Roy up to the desk, eyes glancing over the items scattered across its surface.

"Iren?" Ed asked, bemused and a bit concerned.

Roy himself was a bit concerned. "Hughes?" he asked.

His friend ran a hand along a selection of heavy books at the corner, selecting one with his nimble fingers. He brought it to him and seemed to be weighing it in his hands. "Typewriters are like language centers. Sometimes when you're trying to get the words out, the keys stick or jam, and things come out all jumbled." He moved to stand behind Ed, and the blond regarded him with a wary sort of curiosity. "That being said, there's only one way I know to fix a jammed typewriter." He bent down over Ed and pointed to a journal in his lap. "Look here."

Ed obediently looked at the journal, squinting down at the pages as if Hughes had found something his genius mind had missed. "Ner . . . Ver sigen dach—"

Hughes quickly and efficiently brought the book down on Ed's head. The blond crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut and went still.

Roy and Alphonse stared in stunned silence.

"LIEUTENANT COLONEL!" Alphonse cried, gathering his limp brother protectively in his metal arms. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

"I reset the typewriter," Hughes said, sounding proud of himself.

Roy finally found his voice. He jumped to his feet. "Maes . . . Maes, what's wrong with you?!" he demanded. "You just knocked the kid out cold!"

Hughes looked confused. "What? It's a viable solution! Just give him a minute to wake up."

"You probably gave him a concussion!" Roy shouted. "He'll be out for hours! Do you have any idea how much paperwork this is going to cause me?! Not to mention how Hawkeye is going to put a bullet in my head!"

Sudden groaning halted their conversation in its tracks. They all turned to watch the moving bundle of red and gold in Al's arms.

Hughes gave Roy a triumphant smile. "See? He's coming around."

Ed's face scrunched up, then he blinked his unfocused eyes open and stared at the ceiling. "A . . . Al?" he asked.

"BROTHER!" Alphonse cried, crushing Ed to his chest like a teddy bear. "You're back! Your brain is back!"

Ed looked like his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. "Al!" he hacked out breathlessly. "Choking!"

Alphonse released him, looking his brother up and down as if checking for any other problems. "Brother, talk! Say something else!"

Ed reached one hand to rub his sore ribs, and the other to massage the back of his head. "Wha . . . why does it feel like someone clocked me in the back of the head?" he asked, the words fuzzy but recognizable.

Alphonse beamed at him. "Because Mr. Hughes knocked you out and fixed your brain! Isn't it great?!"

Ed looked like it was anything but great. "I think I'm going to be sick . . ."

Roy stared long and hard. It worked . . . how was that even possible? "Well, I'll be . . . Hughes, do you have any idea how crazy you are?"

Hughes gave him a toothy grin. "Just crazy enough to get the job done."

"Hughes . . ." Ed moaned. "I'm going to . . . transmute your feet to your head . . . I'll glue your knees to your forehead . . . I'm going to—"

"You're welcome," Hughes smiled, patting a dazed Edward on the head.

Havoc suddenly appeared in the doorway, a smile and a smoldering cigarette on his lips. "I think somebody owes someone an apology," he singsonged. "I heard it all from the front door." He looked down at Ed. "If we had done this from the beginning, we could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble."

"I hate you all," Ed groaned.

"I thought you were supposed to be out front?" Roy asked.

"Yeah, but the neighbor's cat snuck past me and ran inside. Have you seen it?"

A small black feline poked its head around the door, amber eyes wide and surveying. It took a tentative step inside and mewled.

Ed locked eyes with it and let out a single, exclamatory bark.

Ed barked. Like a dog.

Everyone turned to stare. Even the cat stared. Ed looked around wide-eyed and clamped his hands over his mouth. He pulled them back, "I . . . what . . . I don't even . . ."

Hughes grabbed a book from the desk.

"GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU CRAZY NITWIT!"

This might could be classified as a crack fic . . . xD

This was so much fun, though! WhenLolzCry05 came to me with the idea of writing a fic where Roy and Havoc got Ed drunk, but since I'm not comfortable writing drinking, we went off in a completely different direction xD I hope I didn't butcher your idea too much, Lolz! :'D The whole gibberish thing was partially inspired by an episode of Stargate SG-1 I saw years ago and an episode of Monk. And trust me, it is complete gibberish. I took what little I knew about the German language and proceeded to write nonsense. There is some actual sense to it, though (yes, I contradicted myself like, twice lol). Like "ver" is "I," and "vur" is "you," and "scherzick" is "shut up," and "Er" is "Al," and "murdich" is "jerk." I'm so clever hahahahaha /shot/.

Anyways, this was a lot of fun. Such a nice break from all the angst going on in "Stairway to Paradise," for sure lol. The next chapter is almost done, by the way! Sorry you've been waiting like three weeks haha :'D

Hope you enjoyed! If you have the time, please drop a review, and I'll see you over in StP xD

God Bless,

-RainFlame