Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ed woke with a splitting headache. He groaned and curled into a ball. It wasn’t the first time he had woken up to the feeling of a pickaxe trying its best to bust his skull open. However, as he curled into a ball, horror slowly dawned on him. He wasn’t in his bed. He was on the floor. A very cold, very hard floor. It wasn't the floor of his dorm room. He knew what it felt like to wake up on that floor. This floor felt dusty, like concrete. And it was cold. Freezing in fact.

The side of his face felt swollen and bruised and he was missing his coat and jacket.

Shit. Those weren’t the only things that were missing. His right arm was gone as well.

Great. Just great.

He swallowed and sighed. He wasn’t getting anywhere lying on his side with his eyes closed and groaning. He should at least open them and take stock of his surroundings. That was the first thing you had to do when you were kidnapped. Which he probably was.

He sighed again and opened his eyes.

“As hypothesized, I am in an unfamiliar, grey, concrete room. That was a great deal of help and I’m glad I opened my eyes.”

Just once he’d like to walk home without getting himself into trouble. Colonel Bastard complained about it all the time. Ed liked to play it off like it was no big deal because it annoyed him. But yeah, this was getting kind of ridiculous.

He pushed himself up. He wasn’t tied down or anything. He was just lying in a heap on the ground.

“What?” He tried to take stock of the rest of his injuries, expect, there weren’t any.

There was a bruise on the side of his head (knocked out then) and some other minor scrapes and scratches, but that was it. Even his arm had been taken off correctly. He didn’t feel like he had been in a fight. He didn’t feel injured. He felt a little sluggish and groggy, but if he had been hit hard enough to get knocked out, then he probably had a concussion.

“What is going on?” he staggered to his feet and stumbled out the door and down the hallways because they hadn’t even closed the door. His head felt all fuzzy and it was difficult to concentrate. Even now, his vision darkened rapidly and he crashed into a wall, trying to keep himself upright.

He regained his balance and continued stumbling down the hall. He didn’t know where he was going or what his plan was. Maybe he should have stayed in the room.

The room was unlocked.

The room he wasn’t restrained in.

“Fuck, this is a trap, isn’t it?” he whined. Even when he was kidnapped by terrorists, he always ended up in the worst-case scenario. They were monitoring him, they had to be. Whoever they were. He was stumbling straight into their trap, playing perfectly into their plan.

But what else could he do? If he stayed in the room, they’d likely just come and get him. At least this way, he might be able to fight back. You know, since he was clearly in a position to fight considering he was missing an arm and could barely keep his balance because of the concussion.

“Ah, you’re awake. I didn’t expect that so soon.”

He whirled around to see a middle-aged man dressed in a lab coat with glasses. He didn’t take another second, lunging at him. He might be older, but that didn’t mean Ed would hold back. He’d beat his ass to hell and back.

However, he didn’t get very far. A very large, very burly man stepped in front of the lab coat man and grabbed him mid-lunge, slamming him to the ground, pinning him in place.

Ed snarled and thrashed against his hands, but he was too weak. Without his arm, he couldn’t do very much.

“I was just coming to get you, Edward Elric.” The man scribbled something down on a clipboard. “You’re necessary for the next stage of our experiment. Now, be cooperative and don’t struggle too much. I’d hate to have to use more force than necessary.”

“Fuck you,” Ed said, coughing as bits of dust were inhaled into his lungs.

“Is he still struggling?” the man asked.

“Yes, doctor. We might need to sedate him.”

At this, Ed started struggling harder. Kicking, thrashing, and bucking with all his might to throw the man off of him so he could run, fight, hide, do something! However, this guy had nothing on Major Armstrong and reacted to his attempts to fight back the same way an elephant would react to a worm thrashing beneath its feet.

The man, the doctor, clicked his tongue. “I’d rather him be fully present and conscious for this. It’ll ruin the experiment if he can’t move.”

“What the fuck do you want with me? Quit ignoring me and tell me who the hell you people are and what you want with me!”

“Although,” the doctor continued, completely ignoring him. “It will take us a little while longer to get Subject 1 ready.” He tucked the clipboard under his arm and started rummaging around the pockets of his lab coat. “Perhaps a mild paralytic agent that can wear off in ten minutes or so isn’t such a bad idea.”

He pulled out a syringe. Attached to the syringe was a large needle.

Ed’s eyes went wide and he started thrashing once more. “Don’t come near me with that thing!” It was bad enough he had to get shots at the doctor's, he was not about to let some crazy person inject some unknown substance into his veins.

“How odd.”

Despite Ed’s thrashing, the doctor still managed to jab that fucking needle into his neck.

“It appears Subject 2 is afraid of needles. One wouldn’t expect that given the nature of his work and previous observations.”

“What the fuck—” Already his tongue felt heavy like it had turned to liquid and was now dripping out of his mouth. His limbs felt the same. He was melting into the floor.

“The fuck…” he panted, trying to get his body to move, “you do to me?”

“You seem to be withstanding the effects rather well. Perhaps I overcompensated for the two metal limbs. I’ll give you another dose if necessary.” The way he talked and moved, it was all so clinical, detached. He had said something about Subject 2. What if…

Ed’s breathing picked up.

What if the military found out about him and Al and had taken them to be experimented on? Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. That couldn’t be. Mustang would never let them… He wouldn’t let them take them. He promised. Ed hadn’t done anything recently for him to be mad. But what if it wasn’t one big thing. What if it was a lot of little things that slowly built up over time and wore Mustang away until he finally snapped and told the military about them?

He tried to thrash again. He wouldn’t let these people hurt Al. They could do whatever they wanted to him, but he wouldn’t let them hurt Al.

“Interesting,” the doctor said, “even now he’s trying to fight. I’m curious to see what the outcome of the experiment will be.”

The doctor stood up and started walking down the hallway. The man who had pinned Ed to the ground threw him over his shoulder and followed.

“Where…” His tongue felt like goo in his mouth. He couldn’t even get the last few words out and his body went completely numb. What if they had already dismantled Al? What if his brother was getting electrocuted and shocked and tested on? This was all his fault. He shouldn’t have pushed Mustang’s buttons so much. He shouldn’t have been so difficult to work with. Al was getting tortured and it was all his fault.

They walked for about three minutes, taking twists and turns that made Ed’s head spin. They were in some sort of bunker. The lights were humming and buzzing overhead and the walls were all grey concrete. He didn’t remember coming here. He didn’t remember getting knocked out. He didn’t remember anything. That scared him. The last thing he remembered was stopping by Colonel Bastard’s office to drop off the report. That had been around noon. Because there were no windows, however, he couldn’t gauge how many hours he was missing. Did he even get to the office?

His only consolation as they walked was the fact that there appeared to be no one else in the building. If he had been taken by the military, shouldn’t there be more doctors or something? If he hadn’t been taken by the military, that meant that Mustang and the others could look for him. That thought alone comforted him more than it should have. He was still sedated with no way out and part of a sick and twisted experiment, but at least this wasn’t state-sanctioned.

“Here we are. Put him down over there.”

Ed was shifted and dumped onto the ground. His head bounced off the concrete, causing stars to explode in his vision. He grunted and blinked furiously, his vision slowly focusing on the man in front of him. Good. It wasn’t a suit of armor. Al was still safe. He blinked a few more times, trying to see who was in the room with him.

His stomach dropped.

Tied to a chair, blood dripping from his forehead, missing his blue military jacket, was Colonel Roy Mustang.

Ed tried to call out to him, but his mouth wouldn’t work.

Mustang didn’t seem to realize he was here. Either that or he was unconscious. The way his head hung and his body was slumped forward. Ed wouldn’t put it past him to be knocked out. Or maybe he did know he was here but couldn’t call out because he was also paralyzed.

The doctor went over to him and tapped his cheek. “Are you still with us, colonel? I need you awake for the next portion of this experiment.”

“Fuck you,” Mustang growled, his body shaking.

The longer Ed looked at him, the more he realized just how bad of shape Mustang was in. His hair was matted with blood. His shirt was ripped and torn, deep gashes peeking out between the tears. He could see bruises on the side of his head.

“C-“ once more his tongue lolled in his mouth, unwilling and unable to form so much as a word.

Mustang flinched and looked up. His eyes were still burning with focused determination, but they were slightly less focused than normal. He saw him. His gaze hardened.

“Why is he here?” he snarled.

Ed felt fucking useless, laying here, unable to move a muscle or speak a word.

“It’s for the experiment. I suppose I don’t need to ask if you recognize him,” the doctor said. He put a stethoscope to Mustang’s heart, briefly blocking him from Ed’s line of sight. “Hmm, how interesting. Your heart rate has increased slightly. You’re a very interesting man, colonel. You have excellent control over your exterior reactions. Much better than most men I study. It’s almost as if you’ve trained yourself out of having tells. But no matter how good you are at controlling yourself, you can’t control everything, including your heart rate.”

“Let him go.”

Ed would have furrowed his brow if his face had been able to move. Mustang was nervous because he was here? That was… weird. He didn’t think Mustang cared enough to be honest.

“So, the boy is the reason for your increased heart rate? How interesting indeed. I did have a difficult time deciding who to take for you. I almost took Lieutenant Hawkeye. However, I ultimately decided that the boy would be the best candidate for determining how well this works.”

The doctor stood up and scribbled some more notes on the clipboard. “I do look forward to seeing the results.”

“How well what works? What are you planning?” Mustang said. He still sounded about as calm and collected as he normally did, if not a bit angrier than normal.

How he was maintaining that façade in this scenario was beyond Ed. He was just seconds away from completely panicking. They had both been kidnapped by some crazy doctor who was performing experiments on them. He didn’t know if anyone knew they were missing. He was paralyzed and Mustang had been tortured. And did he forget to mention the crazy doctor who was busy running experiments on them? Because that was kind of the biggest issue right now!

“Let’s see if the paralytic agent is wearing off of Subject 2.”

Ed tensed when the doctor started walking towards him. He did not want that man’s hands anywhere on him while he was in this state. He couldn’t fight back. He doubted he could even bite him.

“Don’t touch him!” Mustang snarled. Holy shit, he did sound a bit panicked now. Ed couldn’t remember a time when the colonel ever sounded panicked. He always faced asshole generals, terrorists, and bad guys with a sort of smugness that told the world he fully expected to come out on top.

The doctor ignored him pressed the stethoscope to Ed’s chest. “Also, an elevated heart rate. I’m curious to know if you’re more afraid for yourself or your commanding officer.”

“Get away from him!”

He could hear the chair moving and shifting, but Mustang wasn’t able to break out.

The doctor continued to take notes on him, shining a flashlight in his eyes briefly and looking in his ears. The only thing Ed could do was lay there. He couldn’t even flinch.

Finally, the doctor was done with his examination. “Sadly, I don’t think I’ll ever know. It’s not necessary for the experiment anyway.”

He stood up. “The paralytic does seem to be wearing off. You’ll regain full mobility in about five minutes. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for the next stage.”

He stood up and walked out of the room, the lackey following behind him. They shut the door but didn’t lock it. Ed tried to jerk his hand. It didn’t move.

“Fullmetal,” Mustang said, still trying to get out of his bonds. “Fullmetal, can you hear me?” He bent over as best as he could to try and chew his way out of them.

Yes, I just can’t move.

He sat back up and spat out a bunch of rope fibers. “Shit, he said you were paralyzed. Can you move at all? Make a sound? Anything?”

He let out a strangled, choked groan in response.

“Alright. Alright.” Mustang was whipping his head in every direction, trying to find some way to get out of this mess. “Did they hurt you? I guess you can groan for yes or stay silent for no.”

Ed thought about it for a second. They hadn’t hurt him since he got here unless you counted the whole stabbing him with a needle to paralyze him against his will and then dumping him on a cold floor thing. So, he stayed silent.

“That’s good at least. Do you know what they’re planning?”

He tried this time to make words. “N-“ he couldn’t make much more than that. But this was good. The doctor was right. It was wearing off. Hopefully, it would wear off before he could get back, and then Ed could break him and Mustang out of here.

“I’m going to guess that means no.”

Asshole. Ed rolled his eyes.

“Alright, just hang on. I’ll figure out a way to get us out of here. Unless you want to reveal that you’ve been able to move this entire time and are just stringing me along because you like to see me suffer.”

Ed rolled his eyes again. “N-.” He took a deep breath. His tongue didn’t feel so numb. “N-“

“It’s okay. Don’t strain yourself,” Mustang said.

Ed could tell he was panicking. The doctor was wrong. Mustang had tells to show when he was scared. They were just difficult to see. Ed never paid much attention to the way Mustang spoke and acted. Now he had no choice. He had to sit there and watch as his commanding officer slowly ran through ways to get out of his bonds only to come to a dead-end each time. They were running out of time. He didn’t think the doctor had anything good planned for them and with both of them out of commission, they couldn’t fight.

The door opened.

Shit.

That was it. They were done for.

The doctor and the lackey stepped in. Ed’s eyes narrowed when he saw Mustang’s ignition gloves in his hand and another rather large and scary-looking needle. Oh, fuck no. He was not getting stabbed with another needle filled with a mysterious liquid.

“Colonel Mustang, do you recognize the person in front of you?” the doctor asked.

Mustang narrowed his eyes. “What the hell kind of question is that?” It was like a switch had been flipped. The man Ed had just watched biting at his ropes and thrashing around his chair was replaced with a person he normally interacted with; someone who was in control.

“It’s necessary for the experiment.”

“I’m not playing your games.”

“They’re not games. It’s a test. And you’ll find you have no choice but to participate.” The doctor said, sounding less and less cheerful the more Mustang refused to cooperate.

“However, I suppose it is a moot point. I observed you calling him Fullmetal when I was out of the room. While I would like to have had your cooperation, I suppose that’s enough for now.”

Mustang and Ed both paled. They had been observing them when they stepped out of the room. That meant there were microphones or something somewhere in here.

Mustang’s eyes flicked up towards the ceiling of the room. He clenched his jaw and looked back down. He found them. Ed should have known better. This was an experiment. If he wanted to know what happened, he had to have some way of observing them.

“You haven’t even told us what you want with us,” he said. “How can we properly participate in an experiment if we don’t know what you’re testing for?”

“No, you see, it only works if you don’t know.” The doctor finished scribbling notes on the clipboard and went back over to him. “The paralytic agent will be wearing off in about two minutes. I am commencing Phase Two of the experiment.”

He stepped back from Ed and towards Mustang.

“N-“ Ed could move his hand now. He pushed himself up. He should attack the doctor before he did whatever he was planning to do. “N-“

It still felt like his body was melting into the floor; like it wasn’t all there. He couldn’t feel his feet. He couldn’t move his tongue. Even his eyes didn’t want to focus.

“What are you doing?” Mustang jerked his head back, but the doctor paid no attention. Instead, he gripped his hair and yanked his head to the side.

“No!” Ed cried, finally able to get the word out.

It was too late. The need plunged into the side of Mustang’s neck. Ed watched as his eyes briefly widened and then slipped shut. The doctor let go of his head and Mustang slipped forward, his head falling to his chest.

Ed struggled to his feet, only to fall again. “Bastard, what’d you do to him?”

“You’ll see shortly. I’m eager to see what the outcome is.”

Surprisingly, the doctor undid the bonds on Mustang’s wrists and ankles.

“Major Roy Mustang,” the doctor said.

Mustang stiffened.

“These are your orders from the Fuhrer.”

Ed furrowed his brow.

“Ishvalans have infiltrated this high-security base to steal weapons so they can win the war.” He dropped his gloves in Mustang’s lap. “Kill all of them.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Ed said, struggling to sit up once more.

The doctor and the lackey turned and stepped out the door. “Enjoy your last few moments alive. I doubt you’ll die painlessly.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The door shut. “Hey, get back here! What did you do to him?”

Mustang grunted.

Ed turned back to look at him. The gloves were now on his hands.

“At least we have a weapon now, Colonel.” His heart was pounding. Something was wrong with the colonel. “And the paralytic is nearly worn off. Dumbasses, we can take them. Right, Colonel?”

Mustang didn’t answer.

He was staring down at his hands; his entire body stiff. He had been trying so hard to get out just two minutes ago and now he was almost completely still.

“Colonel?” Ed managed to push himself up to a sitting position, trying to see if Mustang was even awake. “I know they tortured you. I don’t know for how long, but if you’re too injured to help, just let me know. I can get us out of here no problem. Of course, you’d owe me lunch—”

Mustang stood up so violently that his chair clattered to the ground. His arm outstretched, ready to snap.

Ed flinched and scrambled back; his body pressed against the wall. “Woah, easy there, colonel. It’s just me.”

Mustang’s arm shook. His eyes were intense, burning, but somehow slightly unfocused like he wasn’t really seeing Ed. He wasn’t used to the colonel looking like this. There was something in his eyes, something that made Ed shiver.

“My orders,” he said. He didn’t drop his hand.

“Colonel, it’s me. It’s Ed. Edward Elric? Fullmetal? I work under you-“

“Shut up,” Mustang snarled.

Ed flinched. His heart started beating faster. Why was Mustang ready to snap? Why did he look like he was ready to kill him? His eyes…

“It’s just me in the—”

“I said shut up! My orders are to kill all of you.”

It took Ed a few seconds to fully comprehend what Mustang had just said. When he did, horror dawned on him. The drug. The unfocused eyes. The weird thing the doctor said before he left the room. The fact that he called him ‘major’ and not colonel. The fact that he kept asking Mustang if he recognized Ed. The only other time he had felt this afraid was when the attempt to bring back his mother backfired. Right before the hands came out to rip him away from the world.

“You think you’re in Ishval.”

“I said shut up.”

The air turned sour. His body was frozen, this time by his adrenaline. “And you think I’m…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it.

This could not be happening. He could not be in this situation. Mustang had to be lying, playing it up for the doctor so he could bust out of here with a spectacular plan.

Except…

His eyes…

They weren’t like Shou Tucker’s eyes. He wasn’t deranged. He wasn’t insane. He was focused, in control, fully aware of what he was about to do. Or, at least, aware of what he thought he was about to do. These weren’t the eyes of some unhinged madman. These were the eyes of a killer.

Mustang was not pretending. His hand was outstretched and shaking. His forefinger and thumb were pressed together, ready to snap. His entire body was taut, stance ready to fight. And he was ready to fight Ed.

He was ready to kill Ed.

He swallowed, heart-pounding and head racing as he tried to figure out a way to get out of this situation alive. He couldn’t… he couldn’t die here. He couldn’t get burned here. Mustang would never…

Except this wasn’t the Mustang he was used to. This was a man under the influence of some unknown drug in the midst of a flashback to a traumatizing time in his life where he probably followed orders like this all the time. He never asked Mustang or anyone about Ishval. He could tell the way people stiffened and flinched when it was brought up that it wasn’t something any of them remembered well.

He always wondered how much of himself he’d have to lose to kill so easily. It never occurred to him that Mustang also had to lose pieces of himself to fight the way he had. And now he was right back in that hell, with clear orders and a clear enemy. Ed couldn’t talk to him like he normally could. He couldn’t be snarky or sarcastic. He couldn’t be combative. He had to play along. He had to distract him until the drug wore off or someone came to help. He was in a hostage negotiation, except not only was he the negotiator, but he was also the hostage.

He raised his hand to the chain of his pocket watch. There was one link that had a jagged piece of metal sticking out of it. Ed always meant to get it fixed. It cut him more than once. Now he was never getting that fucking thing fixed. He sliced his finger opened and dropped it back to the ground, Mustang’s eyes never leaving his.

Those eyes…

He was so scared.

“You’re an alchemist, right?” Ed said, swallowing. Maybe if he could get Mustang to talk about alchemy for a bit, it’d buy him some time.

“I’ve been teaching myself.” His bleeding finger started to make an array. He couldn’t make it too big, or else Mustang would notice. However, he couldn’t look down and see what he was doing, which meant the actual circle might be complete and utter garbage, making it fucking useless.

“Ishvalans don’t practice alchemy,” Mustang said. His hand was still outstretched and shaking. At least he hadn’t snapped yet.

The thought of burning to death… Ed swallowed and forced his growing panic down. If he had his arm, he might be able to win in a fight against Mustang or at least make a wall or something to shield him while Mustang snapped. Then again… how hot could his fire get? Would Ed be able to make a wall strong enough to protect himself? Shit, he was starting to panic again. He trusted Mustang with his life. That made this whole thing worse. He trusted Mustang with his life and yet this man honestly wanted to burn him to death. The only reason he hadn’t died yet was because Mustang was hesitating.

“Some of us do. My dad left a bunch of books. I’m teaching myself.” He swallowed. His entire body shook. Would it hurt? Would he die instantly or would it be a long, drawn-out thing? Would Mustang snap out of it as soon as he killed him? What would happen once he realized?

Mustang tensed. His gaze hardened.

Shit, that was the wrong thing to say. He was going to die here. His superior officer was going to kill him. He trusted this man with his life. He trusted this man with his brother’s life. And it wasn’t his fault. He was drugged, beaten, tortured for some indeterminate amount of time, and forced into this situation. He couldn’t blame Mustang for his death. It was his fault for getting kidnapped in the first place. It was his fault for walking straight into this trap. He couldn’t blame Mustang for any of this. Besides, Mustang would probably blame himself enough for the both of them when (if) he snapped out of it.

But he couldn’t help the feeling of betrayal coursing through his body. He did not trust easily, especially adults. He had been screwed over by so many people and there were even more waiting in the wings to take advantage of him, to use him. He believed Mustang was different. He trusted him. And yet, he was going to get burned by him. Mustang was going to snap and kill him.

Would he listen if Ed asked him to make it quick?

“You broke into the base to steal weapons.” Mustang snarled.

“No,” Ed said. His eyes felt wet and his throat was thick. He had to think of something. He had to keep Mustang distracted. “No. I was just…” He hated lying about this. He didn’t even know if it was a good lie.

He didn’t know anything about Ishval. They didn’t learn about it in school. All the history books made it seem like a noble endeavor that all the soldiers loved. Even though Ed knew better. Even though he had heard about the soldiers who had taken their own lives. Even though he had seen those with battle fatigue lose themselves and scramble under desks if someone knocked something to the floor. He didn’t know what the Ishvalans were like during the war. He didn’t know how many Mustang had stumbled across that gave this exact excuse. He didn’t know anything.

“No, I was just trying to find shelter. I didn’t know.” He lied. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes, getting heavier and heavier.

He had nightmares often. Most of the time, they were of Al and Mom, suffering because of him. Occasionally he dreamed of the night his dad left. More recently, however, they were of Mustang and his team, abandoning him. He didn’t know if he preferred Mustang burning him to death or not. He just wanted to get out of here. He just wanted to get back to Al and back to the way things were.

He was scared. He didn’t want to die here. He didn’t want to burn to death. He didn’t want to look at Mustang’s unfamiliar eyes as his body erupted in pain. He wanted to get out of here. He wanted to go back to Al. He didn’t want Mustang to kill him without hesitation.

“Please, just let me go,” he said, tears finally starting to fall. His finger throbbed from the cut and being jammed into the floor as he worked to remember all of the chemicals that went into concrete so he could warp it. In any other situation, such a transmutation would be easy. Now, though, he couldn’t focus. It felt like all the information he had in his head was slipping through his fingers, like water in a sieve.

Mustang straightened up. The force from pressing his thumb and forefinger together basically bending the digit back. There was no recognition in his eyes. No smugness. No spark of warmth. Nothing. Just the cold eyes of a killer. Ed didn’t even recognize him. He didn’t even want to recognize him.

“My orders are final. I have to kill all of you.”

Almost done. He was almost done with the circle. Just a few more symbols. And then he’d activate it. He had to stay in control. He couldn’t let Mustang kill him. He was counting on him, whether he knew it or not, to get them both out of here alive and unharmed. He had to stay in control. He couldn’t break down.

“How long have you been practicing alchemy?” he asked, trying to distract him with anything other than the war. He just had to hold off for a few more seconds.

“Quit talking!” He roared. He started pantomiming his snaps, not enough to cause a spark, but enough to get Ed to flinch with every movement of his fingers.

He did the last symbol. The circle was complete. Now he just had to activate it. Except, he couldn’t see it to check that it was correct. He didn’t know the exact chemical make-up of the concrete. He didn’t know if the circle was strong enough to warp the concrete and detain Mustang. If he messed up, even by a fraction of a second, he would be dead. There was no way around it. As soon as he made his move, he would have to accept the fact that there was a very real possibility he would die because of it. But he also couldn’t stay here and wait. It seemed like with every second Mustang was becoming more and more unhinged. If he activated the circle, he might die. If he waited for the drug to wear off, he would die.

“Colonel,” Ed said, taking a deep breath to control his panic and fear. Mustang was counting on him to stay in control.

Mustang growled at him.

He ignored him and continued to stare into those cold, remorseless eyes. “I don’t know how much of this you’re going to remember. I don’t know how much you’re aware of. But I’m telling you right now, this isn’t your fault. Whatever happens to me, it isn’t your fault. I’m going to try and get us both out of there alive. In case I can’t, I need you to keep your promise to Hawkeye and keep moving forward. Because this country fucking sucks and I’m starting to think you’re the only one who can make a difference. Please, take care of Al for me. Help him get his body back.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t blame you for anything.”

It felt weird being so open with Mustang about his feeling, but every word he spoke was the truth. He didn’t blame Mustang if he killed him. He knew Mustang was probably going to lose it if he did end up killing him, but he needed him to keep going and keep moving forward. Because somebody needed to be there for Al. And somebody had to make sure that Ishval never happened again. And right now, that person was Mustang.

He spread his hand on the circle. “I don’t blame you. So, you can’t blame yourself.”

He activated it. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Concrete shot from the ground and towards Mustang. He did manage to snap but the force of the alchemy made him stumble back, sending the flames to the ceiling instead of at Ed. By the time Mustang recovered, the concrete was already around his hands, yanking him to the ground and holding him there.

The man let out another roar and started jerking, trying to get free. Ed scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door. He had no idea how long the concrete would last or if he managed to subdue Mustang enough so that he couldn’t snap and kill him. That was close. That was so fucking close.

His chest was tight. His vision was fuzzy. Oh, God, he was dying. He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe.

Mustang was going to kill him.

He couldn’t breathe.

He crashed into a warm body and immediately lashed out. The doctor was back and was going to drag him back to the room. He’d undo the alchemy and force Mustang to kill him. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t go back.

He was being restrained. “Woah, hey, chief it’s just me. It’s Havoc.”

Someone else was wrapping their arms around him, holding him in place, but gently. Not like the man from earlier.

“It’s just us,” Breda said. He was the one holding Ed back. “You’re safe now. Where’s the Colonel?”

Breda and Havoc were here? Someone had found them?

They were going to go release Mustang.

His eyes widened and his breathing started to pick up again. “You can’t!” He shouted. “He’s going to attack you. The doctor did something to him. He injected him with something. He thinks he’s in Ishval. He tried to—”

He couldn’t breathe.

Everything was too tight. Too loud. Too hot. Too painful. Too fuzzy. Too everything.

Someone was saying something. He couldn’t understand it. Mustang was going to kill him. Mustang had tried to kill him. He had tried to burn him to death. He was going to. He had shot fire at him. If he hadn’t activated the circle, if he had been in that room for one second more, he would have…

He couldn’t breathe.

Someone was leading him outside. It was cold. Very cold. Colder than the grey concrete rooms. And windy. He was being forced to sit on something. There was a hand on the back of his neck forcing his head between his knees.

Someone was rubbing his back.

“I need you to take some deep breaths, as deep as you can manage,” Breda said.

Ed nodded jerkily and tried to comply. His version of ‘deep breathing’ was barely more than a gasp for air before it was almost immediately forced out of his lungs.

The fire had been so hot.

He almost…

He couldn’t breathe.

“Chief, just listen to the sound of my voice. Okay. I need you to breathe in.” Havoc took a dramatic and loud deep breath in. Ed followed. Of course, his breathing was not nearly as controlled and long as Havoc’s, but it was better than before.

“Good, now breathe out.” Once more he huffed out air, as loudly and slowly as possible.

Ed followed.

They repeated this for a few more minutes. The more he breathed, the more he became aware of where he was and where everyone else was. He was on some sort of bench. Havoc was beside him, rubbing his back. Breda was kneeling in front of him. He was holding onto his hand and rubbing the knuckles with his thumb. As Ed’s breathing slowed down, Havoc slowly stopped giving him instructions. It was replaced with Breda murmuring softly about something. Something about a game for a sport Ed didn’t care about.

“There you go,” Havoc said once Ed had stopped hyperventilating. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Shit, his voice was hoarse. And it felt like a lie. He wasn’t feeling better. What if Mustang recognized Hawkeye so she let him out only for him to come out here and burn him.

“Easy there,” Breda said. “You’re okay. We’re not going to let anything happen to you. We’ll keep the Colonel restrained until we can figure out how to fix it.”

Ed nodded and took some more deep breaths. His back and neck were starting to hurt from the awkward position.

“Alright, I’m going to help you sit up so you don’t get a head rush and pass out.” Havoc stopped rubbing his back. His hands went to his shoulders, guiding him upwards.

He blinked a few times. It was dark out. There was an industrial-looking building in front of him surrounded by MPs and other soldiers along with a few ambulances.

“Can you tell me your injuries?” Breda asked.

“Um…” He took a shaky breath. “I was knocked out, so probably a concussion. They sedated me with something. I don’t really know. There might be side effects. I cut my finger. That’s it.”

Fuck, he felt so pathetic. That was it. Those were all his injuries. He had gotten more injured walking to the store some days! He shouldn’t be having a panic attack when hardly anything had happened. Mustang’s fire hadn’t even singed him!

“Your arm was removed properly?”

He nodded. That was a mistake. A wave of nausea washed over him. “Yeah. It was removed properly.”

“And you’re not burned?” Havoc asked hesitantly.

Ed sucked in another breath. “No. I’m not… he didn’t… he tried but his aim was off.”

Havoc’s hand was back on his back and he pulled him into him. “It’s okay. We’ll figure out what’s wrong.”

“How’d you guys know we were missing?” He didn’t want to talk about what happened in that room.

“The Colonel missed an important meeting, which sent Hawkeye on the warpath. We didn’t realize you were also missing until we…” Havoc sighed and slumped down next to him. “Until we showed up. Can you tell us what happened?”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to relive an experience so bad he hadn’t even considered it in his worst nightmares. But he knew he had to. As long as that drug was still affecting Mustang, everyone here was in danger.

“The doctor who took us said something about an experiment. He injected the colonel with something and then said something along the lines of ‘Ishvalans have broken in and you need to kill them all’. He gave him back his gloves and then left us in the room. He was watching us. I think he had bugs somewhere in there. I distracted him long enough to draw a circle to restrain him. Then I bolted and ran into you guys.”

He felt like a coward now that he was saying it out loud. He didn’t know that the others had managed to find them and were right outside the door. What if they hadn’t been there? Would he have fucking left Mustang in the hands of a crazy person? What if the doctor had set him loose on Central or East City?

He couldn’t breathe.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure out how to reverse the effects,” Havoc said.

Ed tried to follow the steady rise and fall of his chest, mirroring his inhales and exhales with Havoc’s as best as he could.

“Yeah. Let’s get you checked out by a doctor to make sure you don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Al—” Ed whimpered. As much as he appreciated Havoc and Breda being around him, and it certainly beat an MP he didn’t know, he wanted his brother. He almost died tonight and he didn’t want to say anything bad about the colonel in front of people who were loyal to him. He didn’t know if they would understand. He didn’t know if they would get it. He had almost…

“Someone’s going to go get him. Don’t worry,” Havoc said.

“He’s never looked like that before,” he whimpered and curled in on himself.

Havoc hugged him closer and Breda went back to rubbing his knuckles with his thumb.

“It’s okay,” Havoc said. “You got away. He didn’t hurt you. We’ll figure out how to get him back to normal. ”

Even though he knew this was true, he couldn’t help but play over and over again all the look of hatred and murder in Mustang’s eyes. They were the eyes of a killer. Ed wasn’t sure how he was ever going to forget them.

Chapter Text

Hughes did not think his day could get any worse. There had been a string of missing soldiers cases popping up around East City and he was called in to investigate. He didn’t think it was anything special. A soldier or two missing every year was something that happened in this damn country all the time. He thought he’d wander around East City for a few weeks, come up with some dead ends, and then get transferred back to Central to take care of whatever other series of crimes popped up in the meantime. However, the Fuhrer ordered this investigation himself. And what the Fuhrer wanted, the Fuhrer got.

At least he’d get to catch up with Roy and show him his newest collection of photos of Elicia. She was getting so big and he needed to tell his friend about all the new words she was learning!

He could see it now, him telling cute story after cute story and Roy absolutely gushing over all the progress Elicia was making.

Except Roy disappeared.

The asshole disappeared off the face of the Earth.

He had missed a very important meeting with a very important general. Hawkeye couldn’t find him slacking off at all his usual haunts. No one had seen him. He was just gone. Vanished. This sent Eastern Command into a panic. Before Hughes stepped off the train at East City Station, he had more men at his disposal than he knew what to do with. What was supposed to be an underfunded investigation into a few missing soldiers turned into a city-wide manhunt and lock-down. Everyone was being searched and questioned. Every nook and cranny of East City was being investigated.

As minutes turned to hours, Hughes couldn’t help the string of statistics that flew through his mind. Each minute recalculating the likelihood that they would get him back alive. No ransom had been demanded. No terrorist group had taken the credit. Something was weird about this whole thing. Roy was a very powerful person, a good fighter, and great at spotting hidden dangers. It wasn’t raining. It wasn’t late. He had been taken in the middle of the workday. How had anyone managed to get their hands on him? How could some second-rate serial killer get to him?

He could answer those questions later. Right now, he just had to focus on finding his friend alive and in one piece.

It was Breda that pointed out a series of decommissioned labs about five miles south of Eastern Command that had yet to be searched.

Five hours after Roy went missing, they got to the labs. It was eerie, feeling almost haunted in some way. Most of the soldiers and MPs were still scouring East City and it was a long shot that Roy was even here. However, if there was anyone who seemed to relish in long-shots, it was Roy.

Fuery was staying outside, manning the radios to keep in contact with Eastern Command and to try and get ahold of the Elric Brothers so they could help (They weren’t at the library like normal. Also strange. Hawkeye said they didn’t have a mission and should be in the city.). Falman was staying with him just in case.

He, Hawkeye, Havoc, and Breda decided to clear the lab together. It was a relatively small operation. One floor, only a few rooms. It wouldn’t take more than an hour to check the entire place top to bottom.

No sooner had they stepped through the door that Hughes saw two people who definitely weren’t supposed to be there standing there. It was an older man and an absolute beast of a person who didn’t look fully human.

They saw Hughes and the others.

The beast wasted no time charging at them, lips peeled back in a snarl and hand outstretched. Holy shit, were those claws?

Hawkeye, the absolute angel, had her gun out and fired four rounds as soon as the beast had moved. He fell to the ground, alive but now with a bullet in each limb.

“Go! Get the other one!” She ordered.

Sure enough, the older man had bolted as soon as he saw them step through the door. Havoc, Breda, and Hughes sprinted after him, just barely missing the swish of a white coat around the corner. It was clear he knew the place better than they did as he took twists and turns Hughes would have missed.

“Don’t let him get away!” Like he had to order that. He wasn’t a betting man, but it was suspicious that they just so happened to stumble on two suspicious people at a supposedly decommissioned lab five hours after Roy had been taken. Even if they weren’t the ones behind this, they had to be up to some shady shit.

Havoc managed to put on a burst of speed and sprinted ahead of him and Breda. Hughes had his throwing knives out. It was difficult to aim when he was running like this, but if he could just get a little closer, he’d have a better chance of hitting him.

Luckily, he didn’t have to throw knives at him. The man was older and not someone who ran regularly. It didn’t take long for him to slow down, stumble over his feet, and pant with exhaustion.

Havoc caught up to him first and tackled him to the ground. Perhaps a little rougher than necessary, but Hughes wasn’t going to complain.

“Are you responsible for the disappearance of Colonel Mustang?” Havoc asked, pulling out handcuffs to further incapacitate the man.

The man laughed.

“Where is he?” Hughes demanded. He’d do a full interrogation later. For now, he just needed to make sure his friend wasn’t slowly drowning or buried alive or covered in spiders or something.

“Oh, don’t worry. He’s fine physically. There aren’t usually any side effects. We’ll see what he’s like after he follows his orders, though.”

Hughes looked at Havoc and Breda.

“Side effects? You drugged him?” Breda asked.

The man just laughed again. God, Hughes was going to enjoy beating the shit out of him later.

“Sir,” Falman came around the corner, slightly out of breath. “Eastern Command is on their way and Hawkeye has the other one incapacitated. Fuery is still trying to get ahold of Edward and Alphonse. Do we know where the Colonel is?”

The man laughed harder.

“Shut up,” Havoc growled. “Unless you want to tell us something useful.”

Hughes sighed. They weren’t going to get anything out of him, he could already tell. If Roy was slowly dying somewhere in this building, they couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

“Falman, take him outside. See if you can’t get any information out of him. We’ll clear the lab. It’s not that big. We should be able to find him quickly.”

“It’ll still take too long,” the man said. “It’ll still be too late.”

“I thought you said the Colonel wasn’t in any danger,” Havoc said as he yanked the man off the ground and shoved him towards Falman.

“Oh, he’s not. I doubt there will even be a scratch on him.”

“Take him outside. He’s just messing with us,” Hughes said. He couldn’t punch the man now. He had to keep calm and think through this logically.

“I don’t know. He could have taken someone else,” Breda said as they started walking through the hallway.

All of the doors were strangely unlocked. Most of them were surprisingly clean, given that it was an abandoned lab, and the lights all still worked. Strange, there shouldn’t be power going to this place.

As they continued to kick open doors and call for Roy, Hughes couldn’t help but feel more and more hopeless. They had just found two strange men wandering around a lab. Neither had confirmed that Roy was here and the older one was giving conflicting information. What if he wasn’t here and they were wasting time?

Roy, I swear to God, I will kill you if I find out you died in another part of the city.

The lab was more or less a giant loop and in less than five minutes, they were back at the entrance. The beast of a man had been removed. Hawkeye was still there, checking doors.

“Did you find him?”

“Not yet,” he said. “We just have to clear this section. Then we can say we’ve hit another dead end.”

How was Roy such a powerful alchemist and yet here Hughes was, tracking his kidnapped ass down? He was going to strangle the man if he found out he had just fucked off to a bar or something instead of doing his job.

“Have you heard anything?” Breda asked.

Hawkeye shook her head. “Most of these rooms are soundproof. There are two more doors that I didn’t check yet. The room at the end of that hallway over there is full of medical equipment and drugs.”

They all exchanged glances.

“The man did say the Colonel wouldn’t suffer any side effects,” Breda said.

“He never actually said the Colonel was the one he had though. For all we know, it could be some random person off the street.

“Whatever the case, let’s clear these last two rooms and then continue the search.” They wasted enough time as is.

Like all the other doors, the second to last one wasn’t locked. Unlike all of the other rooms, however, this one wasn’t filled with lab or medical equipment. It was filled with recording equipment. Lots of lots of recording equipment. Hughes had had the displeasure of sitting through many of Fuery’s tangents about how bugging and recording worked. Not even pictures of his darling Elicia could stop his ramblings on the damn things. This meant, though, that he knew what he was looking at immediately.

“What the fuck?” Havoc said.

Yes, ‘what the fuck’ indeed. They were monitoring Roy? That made sense if this person was like a mad scientist or something. He said something about drugs and side effects. Was this all some sort of sick experiment? Hughes’ stomach twisted when he saw a wall full of tapes and bookshelves stuffed with worn and used notebooks.

“Just how many victims did he have?” Breda asked.

Then, the recording equipment picked up something that made his blood run cold.

“Colonel…”

Hawkeye let out a small gasp beside him. Havoc went rigid.

“That’s…” Breda sounded horrified.

“I don’t know how much of this you’re going to remember. I don’t know how much you’re aware of.”

“He said the colonel wasn’t the one in danger,” Havoc said.

“Oh my God,” Hawkeye said.

“But I’m telling you right now, this isn’t your fault. Whatever happens to me, it isn’t your fault.”

Hughes didn’t think he had ever heard Ed sound like this before. The boy always was loud, confident, full of energy. He was the kind of person (the kind of kid) who said things with force, often speaking and acting before thinking. Hughes had witnessed his outbursts, particularly towards Roy, with amusement. It was fun to see the two of them going at each other. This wasn’t the Ed he was used to hearing.

This one sounded terrified. He sounded like he was desperately trying to stay calm like he was desperately trying to keep his emotions in check. Each word he spoke he was choosing carefully, deliberately, as if one wrong syllable would make everything go wrong. His voice was shaking, cracking. He was barely keeping it together and it was clear he was just seconds from breaking down.

“Shit.” Havoc sprinted out the door, followed by Breda.

“What’s going on?” Hawkeye asked. He didn’t know if she was asking him for answers, or just, in general, putting the question out to the universe.

“Why does he sound afraid of him?”

He didn’t know. He was frozen, listening to a child talk as if he was about to die.

“I don’t blame you for anything.”

Hughes’ heart was pounding in his chest. They had to be in that final room. Havoc and Breda would be there any second now.

“I don’t blame you.”

Except, what if they weren’t in that final room? What if there was a basement they had missed? What if they were in another lab altogether?

“So, you can’t blame yourself.”

Then, a sound Hughes never thought he’d be so terrified to hear echoed through the equipment. Roy had snapped. Roy was in the room with Ed. The boy let out a cry. Hawkeye’s hand flew to her mouth. The feed went static. The recording equipment wasn’t picking anything else up.

“No,” she said, her voice shaking. “No, he wouldn’t have.”

But he did. The man said Roy wasn’t the one in danger. The man said he wouldn’t even get a scratch. He wouldn’t even experience side effects. Ed sounded like he fully expected to die.

His final words were assuring Roy that he wasn’t the one at fault here.

He couldn’t move. Why would Roy… He wouldn’t have. He would have never hurt Ed. He would have never killed him. But he snapped. Hughes recognized it and the sound of fire that followed.

Ed expected to die. He knew he was going to die.

“Woah, hey, chief, it’s just me. It’s Havoc.”

Just like that, everything snapped back into focus. Ed was… alive? That wasn’t possible. If Roy meant to kill him, he’d be dead.

Hawkeye didn’t waste another second in the room and sprinted out the door. Hughes finally pulled himself together and followed. Ed, Havoc, and Breda were at the end of the hallway. Ed was wrapped up in Breda’s arms, barely standing, and looking like he was in the middle of having a panic attack. There was a bruise on the side of his face that Hughes could see from here. Other than that, he looked completely unscathed. There weren’t any signs of burns anywhere on his body. His hair didn’t even look singed.

Havoc and Breda were both trying to calm him down, to no avail. Hughes couldn’t hear Roy anywhere. He didn’t see him anywhere.

Havoc whirled on them, gun raised and ready to fire, only to relax when he saw it was them.

“He says the Colonel thinks he’s in Ishval.”

“What?” Hughes said.

“We need to get the kid out of here,” Breda said. He was probably the only reason Ed was currently upright and not face-planted on the floor.

Ed hadn’t acknowledged their existence. He wasn’t saying anything. Hell, he wasn’t even breathing. He looked like he was trying to but it was clear he wasn’t. His entire body was shaking. And, oh, he was crying. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he struggled to breathe.

“Go, get him out of here and try and calm him down. We’ll take care of the Colonel,” Hawkeye said, always sounding calm even in such a horrifying situation.

Havoc and Breda nodded. They helped pull Ed away from the door and to the outside, both still talking softly to him.

“If he thinks he’s in Ishval, he might recognize us and calm down,” she said, marching towards the only other room they had yet to check.

“That still doesn’t solve the problem that he tried to kill Ed,” Hughes hissed. “These people did something to him. We can’t assume anything until Ed, that crazy bastard from earlier, or Roy tells us what’s going on.”

They got to the door and once more Hughes felt horror wash over him. The ceiling was completely black from Roy’s fire. He hadn’t just tried to kill the kid. He had tried to incinerate him. And Roy… God, Roy looked like he had been through Hell.

“Not a scratch my ass,” he muttered.

Ed was hardly injured. Other than the bruise and the horrific trauma of almost getting burned to death, he seemed fine. Roy, on the other hand, was covered in blood, bruises, and cuts. He had been tortured.

He was lying on the floor, his hands wrapped in concrete. Beside Hughes’ feet was a transmutation circle drawn in blood. He felt a sick sense of understanding. Ed had drawn the circle in his own blood. How long had he been in here, trying to keep Roy from burning him? They had spent about five minutes searching the lab from the time they found the two men. God, five minutes trying to talk down someone who wanted to kill you…

He couldn’t think about that now. He had to figure out Roy’s state of mind. He didn’t recognize Ed, but he might recognize them. Luckily, he was awake. He was awake and watching them both with an intense stare. He wasn’t snarling like a wild animal or trying to kill them. Maybe he could get through to him.

“Hey, Roy, it’s me, Maes.” He stepped closer.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” Hawkeye warned.

“Let’s just see what he’s like,” he said. “His hands are trapped so he can’t attack us with alchemy.”

Roy didn’t flinch. He looked up at him, studying him. Maybe something was getting through. Maybe he was starting to come out of his daze.

“I know we’re in Ishval right now. Can you tell me exactly what is going on? What your orders are? Hawkeye and I can help.”

Roy’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth. Hughes wasn’t worried about him attacking. Ed had done a fantastic job at trapping his hands. He wasn’t dangerous. Not anymore.

He took a step closer.

Ed didn’t trap his legs.

His feet were swept out from underneath him and he crashed to the floor. Before he could get his bearings, the heel of Roy’s boot slammed into his face, crushing his nose and causing him to see stars. Hawkeye (seriously, that woman was a godsend) grabbed his ankle and yanked him away, just barely missing another heel to the face.

“I have to kill you all,” Roy snarled. “Those are my orders. I have to kill you all.”

“That fucking hurt you asshole!” He pressed his hands to his face, trying desperately to staunch the blood now spurting from his nose.

“I tried to warn you,” Hawkeye said. She sounded angry. Whether it was at him, Roy, or the situation, he couldn’t tell.

His eyes were watering, a side effect from both the broken nose and the fact that his best friend had just tried to cave his fucking skull in with his foot. Fuck, that hurt. He looked at Roy, who was no longer lying quietly on the floor. Instead, he was thrashing around, trying desperately to yank his way out of the improvised restraints. Any of the scabbed-over cuts were now ripped open and fresh blood smeared on the floor. At one point, he pulled so hard on the hands that Hughes worried he’d dislocate his shoulder. It was… disturbing. Heartbreaking. He did not look like an ambitious man with a plan for everything. He looked like a wounded and wild animal just seconds away from chewing his leg off to escape a trap.

“We have to sedate him,” she continued. “We can’t risk removing the concrete if he still has his gloves on. He could burn all of East City in a matter of hours if we aren’t careful.”

It suddenly hit Hughes that was the plan all along. The man had brought Roy here specifically to drug him into thinking he was in Ishval. Then, after proving he was far-gone enough to kill Ed, he would have set him loose on East City. He felt sick.

“Let’s see if the MPs brought an ambulance with them.” He stood up, blood still gushing from his nose and staining his face and uniform. It wasn’t fair to Hawkeye for him to break down. She was just as affected by this as he was.

Not only that, but he also had to deal with Ed. He couldn’t imagine what the kid was going through. No wonder he was having a panic attack. Hughes himself was just barely holding onto his sanity right now.

“They should have sedatives in the ambulance. If Al’s here, he can help remove the concrete.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Hawkeye’s tone took on a dangerous edge, “I don’t think we should have either brother remove the concrete. Even if he is unconscious.”

She was right, like always. It would be cruel to ask Al to release the man who almost killed his brother in cold blood. Also, there was a very good chance that Al wouldn’t react well to learning that the Colonel had almost lit his brother on fire.

They stepped out of the room, leaving Roy thrashing and snarling on the ground.

Outside, it seemed all of Eastern Command was here. It was a little excessive, but that meant there were plenty of ambulances to choose from. Hughes gave his orders to some of the paramedics (after convincing him that he could hold off on treatment for a few minutes) and they, along with several MPs, went to sedate Roy.

Ed was still with Havoc and Breda. Havoc had an arm wrapped around his shoulder and Breda was kneeling in front of him. The kid only barely looked less panicked than he had in the lab.

All three of them looked up when he and Hawkeye approached. Ed’s eyes widened and he shrank back against Havoc even more.

“Holy shit, what happened to your face?” Breda asked.

“You didn’t let him out, did you?” Ed craned his neck to peek around him and Hawkeye as if they were hiding Roy. As if any second now, he would pop out from behind them and finish the job.

“No, he made a very good argument as to why we shouldn’t let him out,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. It helped that his voice was a bit nasally from pinching his nose in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding. No one laughed.

“The Colonel did that to you?” Havoc asked.

Ed turned away from them to stare back at the ground, shell-shocked and terrified.

Hughes reached out to squeeze his shoulder. The poor kid was freezing. They really should be getting him to an ambulance so he could warm up and get checked out by a doctor.

“We’ll figure out what’s wrong. He’ll be back to normal in no time at all. Don’t worry.”

But did Ed even care? Hughes wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to see Roy again. Even if he was drugged out of his mind, this wasn’t something you could pretend didn’t happen. He had seen the way Roy looked. It was… chilling, terrifying. Even at the height of the Ishvalan War, he never looked like he did in the room.

“Come on, Hawkeye, I’ll get my nose set, and then we have some people we need to question. Havoc, Breda, I want you directing the MPs here. Under no circumstances is anyone to let Colonel Mustang out of his restraints until he is fully unconscious. As soon as he is, remove his gloves and put his hands in stocks. When you get to the hospital, restrain him completely. Even without his gloves, he is still dangerous. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

He squeezed Ed’s shoulder again, causing the boy to look up at him with wide, terrified eyes. “Once your brother gets here, go to the hospital and get checked out. Do you have someplace to stay here?”

“The dorms,” Ed answered miserably.

He didn’t think it was the best idea for them to stay alone tonight. Ed may not have suffered terrible injuries, but the mental trauma alone was enough to worry him. He needed someplace he felt safe. Someplace with allies to protect him.

“You two can stay at my place tonight,” Hawkeye said.

“No, Lieutenant, that’s fine.”

“We don’t know who else is involved in this or how they’ll react when they find out their plan was unsuccessful. It’ll be safer for all of us if we pair up,” she said. Her tone made it clear she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Ed faltered but then nodded. “Okay. We’ll be over later tonight.”

“Good. Lieutenant Colonel, let’s have the paramedics look at your nose.” She turned and walked away.

Hughes squeezed Ed’s shoulder one last time and followed her. This day just kept getting worse and worse.

*****
After setting his nose (ow) and taking some painkillers, Hughes and Hawkeye were whisked away to the interrogation room where the man was staying.

“He says his name is Dr. Monroe,” Lieutenant Schaffer said as they walked to his holding cell.

“Anything on him? Prior convictions? Connections with other cases?” Hughes asked.

Schaffer shook his head. “None that we can find. We can’t even find evidence that he was born here.”

Hughes and Hawkeye shared a look. “Illegal immigrant?” She suggested.

“I don’t know. It didn’t sound like he spoke with an accent so he probably grew up here.”

“Forms get lost all the time. They could have disappeared in a fire or flood or something.” Schaffer added.

That was true. Paperwork disappeared all the time. However, Hughes was still suspicious. There was something weird about this whole case. The fact that he even had access to Roy and Ed in the first place was strange. Not to mention the decommissioned labs that still somehow had power going to them. The fact that he had year’s worth of research that Falman and Fuery were painstakingly going through. Someone was funding this. Someone was paying for ‘Dr. Monroe’ to experiment on people, mostly soldiers, to try and turn them into killing machines. It sounded like something the military might do. He didn’t voice these opinions out loud. Maybe, once he and Hawkeye were away from prying ears and Roy was back to normal, they could discuss it a bit more in-depth.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Schaffer. We’ll take it from here,” he said.

Schaffer saluted and went to stand by the door.

“Ready?” he asked her.

She nodded and they stepped in.

Dr. Monroe (or whatever the hell his name was) was sitting at the table, handcuffed. He didn’t look scared or worried. In fact, he looked delighted with himself. He smiled as they came in.

“I’m so sorry about your loss.” He said, his grin widening even more.

Hughes furrowed his brow.

“He was a bright child. I would have liked to study him more. He wouldn’t have been a good candidate for this experiment. He doesn’t follow orders. However, there was still something so fascinating about him. Did you know he’s afraid of needles? He went through automail surgery but is still afraid of something so small. Truly a fascinating boy. But, you understand, for the sake of scientific progress, he had to be sacrificed.” He continued.

“Are you talking about Edward Elric?” It felt wrong to know that Ed was afraid of needles. Everyone had a fear. Roy was surprisingly squeamish around centipedes and millipedes. Hawkeye was claustrophobic. Hughes was afraid of heights. However, this felt private. He shouldn’t know about Ed’s fears.

“Who else would I be talking about? I do want the recording from my observations. I didn’t have a chance to listen to them and want to know how quickly it happened. Oh, and the Colonel. You must let me speak with the Colonel. I want to know how he reacts to all of this. And how long it takes for the drug to wear off. I fiddled with the formula a bit these last few times so it should last longer, but I want to know how much longer.”

“It will wear off?” Hawkeye said.

Hughes was relieved if that was the case. He wanted his friend back to normal as fast as possible. The doctors were desperately trying to look through his notes to see if there was some way to engineer an antidote, but that was slow going and could take months. If it wore off in a few days, that would be one less thing to worry about.

“Yes, yes. It’ll take a while for it to be metabolized out of the body but it will wear off. Now, enough about that, tell me about the boy’s death. How painful did the Colonel make it? Was it quick? Did he seem remorseful about it or did he move on? Did he attack you as well?”

Hughes briefly wondered if he should keep Monroe in the dark. He certainly didn’t need to know Ed was alive. Then again, they weren’t getting very far with this interrogation. Maybe if he knew Ed wasn’t injured, he’d lose his control and slip up, give them something.

“Edward Elric isn’t dead,” he said carefully.

Monroe’s smile dropped. “Interesting. Well, I suppose you showed up not long after he was attacked. It is possible to survive third-degree burns if they’re treated quickly. Perhaps the enclosed space made Subject One hold back so he wouldn’t hurt himself. We’ll have to see how he reacts to the field tests next.

“He wasn’t burned,” Hawkeye said evenly.

Monroe’s smile dropped even more. “That’s impossible. You two are lying to me in hopes that I slip up and give you something. That boy is dead. Or, if he’s not dead, he’s covered in third-degree burns and will live in agony for the rest of his life.”

Hughes really wanted to hit this guy before they even stepped in the room. Each time he spoke, he wanted to hit him more and more. How could any human react so callously to the death or extreme injury of a child?

“We’re not lying. The Colonel didn’t even singe him,” Hawkeye continued. “The only injuries he sustained were a blow to the head and a cut on his finger.”

“No!” Monroe shouted, banging on the table. “No, that’s impossible! I’ve worked on that formula for years! I’ve perfected it! They don’t hesitate. They do what they’re ordered! There must be something I didn’t account for; something that changes the formula; changes the reaction.”

Hughes wanted to argue with him that he was wrong. According to the information they had and the tapes (Hughes had yet to listen to them but Falman had and looked traumatized), Ed had been in the room with Mustang while he was drugged for about eight minutes. That was eight minutes of Ed trying desperately to convince him not to burn him. However, he didn’t realize what was going on right away. Roy had the chance to burn him immediately and he didn’t take it. Hughes had a guess the only reason he snapped in the first place was that Ed knocked into him with concrete. Roy had hesitated with Ed. He had spent eight minutes in the room with a (supposed) enemy he was ordered to kill and he didn’t kill him. Monroe was wrong.

Except… he wasn’t wrong. Not completely. Hughes was barely in the room for thirty seconds and Roy attacked him, fully intent on beating him to death. He wasn’t a wild animal lashing out at anything and everything. He was cold, calculating. He specifically baited Hughes into stepping closer so he could attack him with his legs. He hadn’t hesitated to kill him; he had just waited for an opportunity. It was at that moment that Hughes realized if anyone else had been in that room with Roy, they would have been dead. He had a sneaking suspicion as to why that might be. He didn’t voice this to Monroe. No need to give him any ideas.

“Yeah, well, you made a mistake. Colonel Mustang didn’t kill the Fullmetal Alchemist. He didn’t burn him. Your experiment failed.”

“I have to do more tests. They need to let me do more tests.” Monroe muttered to himself.

Hughes and Hawkeye exchanged glances. This was going to be a long night.

*****

Mustang knew he was tied down before he was aware of anything else. His wrists and ankles were restrained, keeping him pinned on some sort of bed. He also had a strange, floating sensation in his body. Drugs? He forced himself not to panic as he opened his eyes to get an idea of his surroundings. Once he knew what sort of place he was being held in, then he could make plans on how to escape.

He was… in a hospital? He turned his head to the left and saw a nice, big window with cheery sunshine filtering through. He turned his head to the right and saw a door, an open door, with nurses and doctors walking by. More than once, he saw a familiar blue uniform walk past his room. He was in a military hospital? He was restrained in a military hospital?

“What is happening?” he murmured. He shifted as much as he could in the bed and craned his neck down, afraid that he wasn’t restrained but rather paralyzed from the neck down. He had never been paralyzed before. He didn’t know what it felt like.

He wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or even more anxious when he saw thick leather straps binding his ankles, wrists, and even thighs to the bed. He shifted in the bed, desperate to bend his joints and move. He was stiff and sore. His head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.

“Um, excuse me?” He called out. In any other situation, he wouldn’t be so quick to alert his captors that he was awake, but these weren’t his captors. This was a military hospital, probably the one in East City. He hadn’t done anything that would warrant this kind of reaction. Or, he didn’t remember doing anything that had warranted this kind of reaction. He wasn’t about to sit here and wait for some nurse or doctor to realize he was awake. He couldn’t reach the call button like this (why even give him one if they were going to strap him to the damn bed?).

“Oh, you’re awake!” A very beautiful nurse poked her head through the door and smiled at him.

He put on his most charming smile, refreshed himself on all the tricks his sisters taught him, and prepared to fucking grift his way out of these damn restraints. Someone was going to get burned for this.

“Yes, I am. Do you think you can undo the restraints now? They’re not very comfortable.” It was a long shot, considering he still wasn’t sure why the military would see it fit to strap him to a goddamn hospital bed, but might as well ask.

“Sorry, sweetie. Not until we know it’s worn off.”

His smile dropped. “Until what’s worn off?” He didn’t comment on the patronizing nickname she had used.

“Oh, I’m not sure all of the details. But I do know we’re not supposed to let you out until Lieutenant Colonel Hughes gives the all-clear.”

Hughes was behind this? That was… worrisome. What the hell had happened?

“Can you at least tell me how long I’ve been out?”

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for about three days now.” She answered helpfully, stepping in the door and starting to fiddle around with the machines.

Three days? He had been here for three days? He didn’t remember any of it. She moved the top of his hospital gown and his heart nearly stopped. His entire torso was covered in bandages.

“Am I not feeling anything because of pain medication, or because the wounds aren’t that bad?”

“You are on some pain medication. That man did a number on you. Can you give me your full name please?”

“Colonel Roy Mustang.” What man? What happened to him? Why was he here?

“And can you tell me where you’re at?”

“A hospital,” he said. Why had Hughes ordered he be strapped down like some crazed maniac?

“I need you to be a bit more specific, sweetie.” Alright, she was starting to grind on his nerves.

“I’m not entirely sure. According to you, I haven’t exactly been cognizant for the past three days. For all I know, I’m in Xing right now.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Look,” he snapped, tired of answering questions but not getting any information himself. “You said I could get unstrapped when Lieutenant Colonel Hughes gave the okay, right?”

She nodded.

“Then get him here so I can answer whatever needs to be answered.”

She frowned. “I need to make sure none of your wounds are infected. Some of the cuts are pretty deep.”

“You can do that after you call him. He won’t just appear in the doorway.”

She continued to frown at him.

Mustang jerked on the restraints once more and decided to switch tactics. Rule number one of convincing people to do what you want: you get more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.

“Please, they’re chaffing my wrists and I really would like to move around. If Hughes is the one who’s giving the all-clear, I want it done sooner rather than later. Besides, the longer I’m strapped to the bed, the more likely I am to develop bedsores. Then, you have more problems to deal with.”

She sighed. “Alright. I’ll go see if he’s available. Then you are going to sit here and let me complete my examination.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She left the room. Mustang looked back up at the ceiling. He was missing three whole days. No, he was missing more than that. The last thing he remembered was getting lunch before he met with Fullmetal. That was around one in the afternoon if he remembered correctly. And based on the sun in the window, it was still morning. Maybe late morning, given the time of year. So, he was missing three and a half days.

He racked his brains, trying to piece together what had happened. He had gotten a sandwich at the cafeteria. Then he was heading back to his office. Did he make it back to the office? Did he make it to his meeting? The nurse said a man did a number on him. So, he had been attacked. Kidnapped? That didn’t explain the cuffs, though. She said something had to wear off. He had been drugged? The drug might have made him combative or a danger to himself. Why would Hughes be the one to give the all-clear, though? Wouldn’t a doctor do a better job at determining his state of mind right now?

She came back in and assured him Hughes would be here with Hawkeye in about fifteen minutes. He thought it was fifteen minutes too long, but knew she couldn’t do anything about it so it wasn’t worth the effort to bite off her head. She must have turned off the morphine or whatever was dulling his pains because he could feel it all a little more clearly now. He let her take his temperature, his blood pressure and check his bandages. Things got a little dicey when she pulled out a stethoscope to listen to his heart.

“Don’t touch me with that thing,” he growled, jerking away from her.

She looked a bit shocked. “I need to make sure everything is okay.”

He couldn’t exactly get away from her as he was.

“It’ll be over in a second, just take a deep breath and try to relax.” He jerked away from her again when she put the stethoscope on his heart.

“Your heart rate is a little high. Are you worried?”

“Shut up,” he growled.

He didn’t want anyone knowing he was worried. He didn’t want anyone to know why his pulse was elevated. He might be strapped to this fucking bed, but he wouldn’t let her… let her… let her do what, exactly? What was he so afraid of? He wasn’t afraid for himself. There was something else. He kept glancing behind her as if he expected someone to be there. Who else was supposed to be in this room with him? Why was his heart rate so high?

Once more, she looked offended and shocked. She pulled the stethoscope away. “Well, you seem to be healing fine, and other than your increased heart rate, there’s nothing too worrying. I’m decreasing the pain medication so you can be clear-headed for your interview with the lieutenant colonel. If you’re still in pain later, we’ll talk about increasing it again. Call if you need anything.”

She left him alone in that room, his heart still pounding from the stethoscope. “What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell happened?” He jerked on the restraints again, even though he knew it was useless.

The remaining five minutes or so he waited for Hughes and Hawkeye felt like an eternity. He was desperate to get up and move, to switch positions, to do something other than lie there. He couldn’t turn on the radio or read a book to distract himself. So, he let his thoughts wander. He tried to figure out what had happened in that half a day he was missing. He had been in the hospital for three days. Something happened around one in the afternoon about four days ago. What had happened? Why was he expecting someone to be in the room with him?

Finally, he heard a knock at the door.

“Roy?”

“Took you long—what the hell happened to your face?” Hughes’ nose looked like it was smashed to shit. His eyes were both bruised and the nose itself was now crooked and swollen.

Hughes laughed and scratched the back of his neck. “It got broken.”

“No shit. How did it get broken? Why does it feel like I got into a knife fight? Why the hell am I strapped to the bed?” He jerked on the restraints once more.

Hughes and Hawkeye exchanged glances.

He didn’t like it when he was being kept in the dark. “I need answers. What happened?”

Hughes sighed and stepped fully into the room, pulling up a chair and sitting beside him. “Well, the good news is it seems like you’re relatively back to normal. Now, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“Clearly?”

They nodded.

“I was getting lunch before a meeting with Fullmetal.”

Hughes visibly winced. Even Hawkeye stiffened a bit.

“Look, whatever is going on, tell me. I don’t know why I’m strapped down or why you’re the only one who can free me. Let’s just get this over with so I can sit up.”

“Okay, okay. The short version is you and Ed were kidnapped by some sort of crazy scientist. He injected you with a drug and we need to make sure it’s completely out of your system before we just let you loose.”

“I guess that makes sense. The nurse did say they needed to make sure it was all out of my system. That still doesn’t explain why I’m strapped to the bed. What did I…”

He stared at Hughes’ face. Took in the way Hawkeye seemed to be avoiding his gaze. He was going to the cafeteria to get a sandwich. No… he got the sandwich and was heading back to the office. He ran into someone… an older man…

It was starting to come back to him now. He remembered a sharp pinch in his neck and his body going boneless.

“Roy?” Hughes said.

He remembered waking up and the man spending hours beating him. Cutting him. Torturing him. For hours. He was taking notes, talking the entire time. This was an experiment for him.

“Roy, calm down. You’re safe now.”

“Sir?”

And then there was Ed. He remembered Ed being there. He had been dragged in and dumped on the floor. The man kept asking him questions about Ed. Hughes and Hawkeye flinched when he mentioned his meeting with Ed. The man had taken Ed as well. He had taken him and Ed. Had he tortured him too? If he hurt Ed in any way, it didn’t matter if he was in a maximum-security prison, Mustang was going to burn him.

Ed was there. Ed was in front of him. He was paralyzed. He couldn’t speak. The man had taken his pulse and said something about his heart rate. He left the room. Ed was lying there paralyzed but slowly regaining his ability to talk. The man came back with a syringe. Mustang was afraid he was going to do something to Ed. He threatened him. He couldn’t do anything. He was strapped to the chair, but he still threatened him nonetheless, still tried to keep him away from the kid. There was a pinch in his neck.

Then… he was in Ishval. He was in Ishval looking for Ishvalans that had broken into a base and were looking for weapons. Why was he in Ishval? The war was over. He shouldn’t have been… How did he get to Ishval from the lab? It had to be a mistake. Except… that was how the events played out. He was in the lab threatening the man for touching Ed and then… he was in Ishval. He was a major again helping win the war at the bitter end. It didn’t make sense. He was almost thirty years old and a colonel and then he was thrown back in time to when he was twenty years old and a major. He was in Ishval and he had to kill them all.

And he found an Ishvalan. There was one right in front of him. He had to kill him. Those were his orders. He couldn’t disobey his orders. The Ishvalan was young, too young. A child. Barely a teenager. And he had golden hair and golden eyes.

“I don’t blame you for anything.”

He had golden hair and golden eyes.

”I don’t blame you.”

He had golden hair and golden eyes.

”So you can’t blame yourself.

He was in the lab with Ed. And then he was in Ishval facing down a teenager with golden hair and golden eyes.

He had snapped. The fire filled his vision and completely blocked the enemy.

No, not the enemy. There was no enemy. Ed was in the room. The enemy had golden hair and golden eyes.

The fire had been so hot.

Oh…

Oh, God.

What had he done?

He was yanking on the restraints now, thrashing and trying to break his way out by brute force.

Oh, God.

He had…

Ed was in the room with him.

Hughes had said there was a drug. He had been drugged.

There was no enemy. Just Ed. And he had snapped. He had his gloves and he had snapped.

“Roy!”

Hughes had his hands on his shoulders and was pushing him into the bed. His stab wounds may have opened up. He didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

“Sir, please, calm down!”

How could she ask him to be calm? He had killed Ed. He had turned his fire on the one person he had promised to never hurt, the one thing that was proof of his last shred of humanity. He had killed him.

“Ed…”

What was going to happen to Alphonse? Oh, God, what did Alphonse think? How did they tell him? No wonder he was strapped to this bed. How could Hughes and Hawkeye even look at him right now?

He had killed him.

He had killed Ed.

Burned him.

The fire was hot. It filled his vision. Those gold eyes disappeared in the flames.

“He’s fine, Roy. You didn’t hurt him.”

No, that couldn’t be true. He had his orders. He believed… he didn’t think logically and had fallen for it. Ed didn’t even look Ishvalan. How could he have done that? Was he going to get punished for this? Probably not by the military. But as soon as he got these restraints off, he was grabbing Hawkeye’s gun and shooting himself in the head. Hughes had talked him out of it once before. But that was different. The children he had killed before were strangers. This one…

“Roy, he’s fine. You didn’t hurt him.”

“Please, sir, listen to us and calm down. Edward is safe.”

“You’re lying. There is no way I let him go. I killed him!”

“He used alchemy to trap you in concrete and get out.”

No. Ed was missing an arm. He remembered that. They had removed his automail arm. He had felt so angry when he saw that. Ed didn’t have anything to draw a circle with. He couldn’t do his normal clap transmutations. There was no way for him to use alchemy in that room.

“He’s dead. I killed him, I know I did!”

“He and Al have been staying with me this week,” Hawkeye said.

“Havoc and Breda were the ones to get him out of there,” Hughes added. “They were the ones that checked him over. They can confirm you didn’t hurt him.”

“No. That’s not possible. Quit lying to me!”

He heard the nurse come in. Hawkeye was talking to her, probably trying to convince her not to sedate him again.

Hughes was on top of him now, pinning him to the bed. Which was useless because damn these restraints are good. “Roy, calm down. How would I be able to keep something like this from you? What, am I going to tell you, Ed, just up and quit the military to become a sheep farmer in Resembool? Am I expected to believe you wouldn’t check on that? He’s fine. He’s shaken up, but other than a mild concussion that you didn’t give him, he’s fine.”

There was definitely logic in Hughes’ statement. Mustang would know if Ed was no longer in the military and he’d check to see where he had ended up.

“And do you think you’d still be alive if you killed Ed? Do you think Al wouldn’t go berserk and come after you?”

Now that he didn’t know. Al was protective over Ed, but he wasn’t as combative as his brother. Then again, it was entirely possible that the death of his brother would cause him to break down.

“I had my gloves. I snapped. I remember the fire.”

“You didn’t hurt him. He wasn’t even singed. He’s okay.”

Finally, Mustang stopped struggling. He wasn’t going to rip out of these restraints anyways.

“He’s okay?”

“Yes. In fact, you did more damage to me than you did to him?”

He frowned and looked at Hughes’ broken nose. “I did that?” So, he was capable of hurting the people he loved without a second thought. He hurt Hughes, he had to have hurt Ed. There had to be something they weren’t telling him.

He remembered now. He was trapped. Two more Ishvalans came in. They were dressed in blue military uniforms. He waited for one of them to get close enough and then swept their legs out from under them, knowing he wouldn’t break free but also determined to follow his orders to the bitter end.

“To be fair, I didn’t listen to the warnings and got close to you.” He scratched at the bandages. The joke didn’t do anything to quell the nausea rolling around in his stomach.

“Hughes—"

“It wasn’t your fault. You were drugged.”

“How did he get away? He didn’t have his arm. He couldn’t do a circle.” There had to be something, something they weren’t telling him.

“Kid cut his finger and drew one while he was distracting you. You did shoot fire at him, but he managed to get the circle to work and pinned you to the ground.” He explained. “Are you calm now? Or is the nurse going to have to sedate you?”

“I’m… I didn’t hurt him.”

“You didn’t hurt him. He’s still alive. He wasn’t burned. You hesitated long enough for him to get away. He’s fine.”

He very much doubted Ed was fine. He wanted to ask someone to bring him here to talk to him, but that was selfish. Mustang wouldn’t be too keen about listening to his would-be murderer try to apologize.

“You seem like you’re yourself now. How about we get those restraints undone?” Hughes stopped pinning him down.

A wave of terror washed over him. “No!”

Hughes recoiled and Hawkeye looked shocked.

He swallowed down his panic. “No,” he said more calmly. “We still don’t know if all the drugs are out of my system yet or if there’s a potential for relapse. Leave them on. At least for a few more days.”

They exchanged glances.

Hughes sighed. “Fine. But you’re going to have to get out of them eventually.”

“I know. Just… wait a bit.” He couldn’t… he had almost killed Ed. A part of him refused to believe that he hadn't actually managed to kill him and Hughes and Hawkeye were just sparing his feelings. If Havoc and Breda confirmed for him that the kid was still alive, then he’d believe them. Until then, he had almost killed another child. And not just any child, a child he appointed himself to protect.

“If you’re sure.”

Hawkeye ushered the nurse out of the room and closed the door. Right, the entire hospital probably just heard his breakdown. Just what he needed. He couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Ed was so scared. He remembered him sounding scared, his voice cracking and tears rolling down his cheeks. He had never seen Ed cry before, and he was the reason. He was the reason this unflappable child who seemed to lack normal fear responses looked and sounded so afraid.

“What did you find out about the man who took us?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.

Hughes sighed. “Not a whole lot. We have him and his crony in prison but all interrogations are just… useless against him. He has no record of ever existing. He is completely immune to any of our… more forceful techniques. But we do know one thing for sure; he didn’t expect you to hesitate.”

Mustang furrowed his brow. “He didn’t expect me to hesitate?”

“He also thought Ed would have died as soon as he stepped out that door. He refuses to believe us when we say that he’s not.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to go around telling him that?”

Hughes shrugged. “He’s not giving us anything to work with. Besides, according to our contacts he’s not running or part of a bigger operation.”

Mustang sighed. “Great. Just great.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about him?”

He shook his head. “No. It was only ever just the two of them. He recorded everything in a notebook. He had bugs planted in the room to record us.”

“Yeah, we found the notebook. Didn’t find the bugs though. I think you burned them.”

Ah, so his fire had destroyed something.

Hughes put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s fine, Roy. You didn’t hurt him.”

“I know.” But he almost did. Wasn’t that enough? He didn’t think he was a good person, but he did think he had some control over himself. Why was it so easy for him to slip back into that emotionless, mindless soldier he had been in Ishval? Why had it been so easy to snap and kill someone he cared so much about?

And it wasn’t just Ed. Given the state of Hughes’ face, it was clear that everyone was in danger because of him. What if it wasn’t just the drug? What if this was just him? He liked to think that he wasn’t Kimblee. He liked to think he was better than him, but maybe this was all a lie he told himself to sleep at night. Maybe, underneath the surface, he was just like Kimblee, waiting for a chance to hurt anyone and everyone for the sheer joy of watching the bodies pile up.

“Roy, he’s okay. I’m okay. You didn’t kill anyone.”

He nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

Chapter Text

Monroe paced back and forth across his cell, muttering to himself. Colonel Mustang shouldn’t have hesitated with the boy. He should have killed him immediately. That’s how this worked. That’s how this went.

Years of researching, perfecting, trial, and error, over and over and over again had given him the perfect formula. One that could turn any man into a blood-thirsty monster. There should have been no stopping Colonel Mustang. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and Lieutenant Hawkeye had to be lying. The boy had to be dead.

But they were so steadfast in their conviction. Their faces betrayed no sorrow or sadness from the death of one so young. Even if they were trying to be professional about it, they had an attachment to the boy. Monroe researched everything so carefully. They should have broken down by now, gotten angry with him, demanded to know why he wanted such a young life to be snuffed out before it had even really begun. Which could only mean one thing: Colonel Mustang hesitated.

The fact that he hesitated was… odd. Monroe worked the problem over in his mind. He had to account for every variable to make the formula perfect. It was good that he knew about this problem now so he could fix it. There was something he didn’t account for. Something that needed to be tweaked in the final formula.

Could it be that the boy was too young?

No, that didn’t make sense. According to the information given to him, Colonel Mustang had killed children in Ishval, children younger than the Fullmetal Alchemist. He wasn’t above it. He was a good soldier that always followed orders. So why did he hesitate? What had he missed?

Did he miscalculate the amount needed?

He was working off of Colonel Mustang’s official height and weight so that shouldn’t have been a problem. Perhaps the records were out of date. It wasn’t impossible the man had gained or lost a few pounds between his yearly physicals. But so much to make the formula that ineffective…

There had to be something else; something he was missing.

The cell door opened. A great screeching noise echoed through his bare cell and reverberated around the prison.

He turned to see Fuhrer King Bradley and another soldier stepping into the cell. Good. The sooner they got him out of here, the sooner he could return to his research.

“I know the colonel didn’t kill the boy, but I have faith I can figure out why. I need to have all the notes of the incident though. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and Lieutenant Hawkeye are refusing to tell me anything about the colonel’s condition.”

Bradley narrowed his eyes. The skin of the soldier shifted and changed to reveal the other person who regularly stayed by Bradley’s side. Monroe was fascinated by them. How did they do it? Was it alchemy, or something else? He longed to begin research on the other creature to see how it worked. As soon as he perfected his formula, he’d go on to study them.

“You weren’t supposed to take the Fullmetal Alchemist. You were supposed to take the woman,” Bradley growled.

Monroe’s smile dropped. “Yes, yes. I know. But if we were going to let him loose on North City, I wanted to make sure he was far gone enough to kill women and children. And look, I was right to test it with the boy. He hesitated with him. He might have hesitated with the civilians.”

Couldn’t they see that Lieutenant Hawkeye wouldn’t have proved anything? He had gotten soldiers to kill their wives and lovers since the beginning of his research. The colonel wouldn’t have hesitated with her. A child, though, that was something more morally dubious, something that could be fought against. He still didn’t understand why Colonel Mustang managed to fight against it now when he had no problem before. But if he could just get Bradley to see it, he could be let out of this godforsaken prison and allowed to return to his work.

A hand snatched him up by the throat before he could blink. He was lifted from the ground and the hand crushed his trachea, cutting off his air supply.

“We need the Fullmetal Alchemist alive for our plans. You are very lucky he survived. I would have dragged this out for much longer otherwise.”

The one whose body could shift and change was behind him. They tossed something over the rafters. For a brief moment, Monroe wondered what they were planning. Then, he felt cloth fall over his head and loop around his throat.

“No, please, I can figure it out…”

The blood roared in his ears. He couldn’t concentrate on much. His body screamed at him to take a breath. He clawed at Bradley’s hand. Occasionally, the nails would dig in enough to draw blood. There was a crackle of electricity and the skin would knit itself shut. It was no use. He wouldn’t let go.

“What… are… you?” he gasped. He began clawing at the cloth, scratching at his own throat in a desperate attempt to loosen it.

“We’ll have to figure out another way to get the blood crescent up there,” the shifting one sighed. “You’ve proven that you can’t follow our orders.” They stepped in front of Bradley and grinned wolfishly. “Sorry, but you have to go.”

They both stepped back but didn’t leave the cell. Monroe stayed suspended, the bedsheet tightening around his neck and strangling him even more. He clawed at it, still desperate and hopeful that he could rip it off and fall to the ground. Even though, distantly, he was aware if he did manage to do that, Bradley would likely just try again. Bradley and the shifting one watched him as he strangled to death; his body jerking and bucking as it tried to get air.

Finally, his eyes slipped closed and he fell limp in the cell.

*****

“He what?” Hughes shouted at the guard on the other end of the telephone.

“He killed himself, sir.” The guard’s voice was shaking.

Good. He had every right to be afraid. A man who had successfully brainwashed a dangerous and powerful alchemist and was kept under guard day and night to ensure he didn’t die, was now dead.

“How?”

“Bedsheets, sir. He made a noose out of the bedsheets and hung himself from the rafters.”

If Hughes wasn’t convinced that something was going on in this country before, he sure as hell was now.

“That’s not possible! We don’t give inmates bedsheets for this very reason! Who gave them to him? Who was supposed to be on duty last night?”

“I don’t know, sir. We found him this morning and there appears to be a gap in the night guard schedule. No one knows what happened and none of the night crew will admit to giving him the sheets.”

“God fucking dammit! Don’t touch anything, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He slammed the phone down before the guard could utter out another whimper and pathetic excuse. He briefly debated pounding his head on the desk in frustration, only to remember that his nose was still very broken and painful and the last thing he should be doing was slamming it repeatedly on a piece of furniture.

He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. Someone was covering things up. The bodyguard Monroe had (they never did get a name on him) was apparently allergic to shellfish and died yesterday after going into anaphylactic shock in the prison. All of the notebooks and tapes they had found in the lab ended up in a basement that was mysteriously flooded, ruining all the evidence they had. Falman only managed to get through about half of them. And now Monroe managed to hang himself in a maximum-security prison where inmates were specifically watched like fucking hawks so that they could be interrogated and not kill themselves.

He sat back and drummed his fingers on his desk. He wasn’t much for conspiracy theories. He thought that most of these theories had major holes in them and created absolutely ludicrous plans that made no sense if you thought about them for more than a few minutes. However, he couldn’t ignore this. Between this and the war in Ishval, the military was up to something. They were planning something or doing something that Hughes didn’t know about. And they were using Roy (and possibly Ed) to get it done.

He stood up and marched to the door, now in much better control over his anger at the whole situation. If this was a massive, country-wide conspiracy, then this was bigger than a few missing soldiers. He’d have to start looking into it when he got back to Central. He wouldn’t tell Roy about his suspicions yet. The man was still not doing well after his time with Monroe. Even after almost a week of being strapped to the bed, he refused to give them the all-clear. Hughes and Hawkeye both tried to talk some sense into him, but it was no use. Hughes wished he didn’t have to get back to Central. Roy had never been this bad before and he could tell it would take more than a few days for him to get back to normal.

Hell, he had almost killed Ed. Hughes couldn’t even begin to imagine the guilt he must be having over that alone. Truthfully, he wondered if anything would be able to snap his friend out of his depression. He had a feeling Ed might be able to help him, however, he wasn’t about to ask the kid to go talk to him. He completely understood what the kid was going through. Hell, all he got was a kick to the face, and even he was a bit antsy around Roy. He didn’t know how to help his friend and he hated that. He doubted springing a conspiracy theory on him would help anything.

Hopefully, in a few weeks, Roy would be back to normal. Or, at least, as normal as he could be given what he went through. Then, he’d figure out a way to tell him what he knew and they could start looking into it together.

For now, he had to keep playing the part of a good soldier and go investigate the ‘suicide’ of Dr. Monroe.

*****
Ed found out Mustang had woken up the day he woke up. Hawkeye called him after she and Hughes had left the hospital to let him know that he was awake and back to normal. He thanked her for letting him know and promptly hung up the phone, his heart racing.

It took longer for his mind to fully comprehend what she meant. Mustang was back to normal. He wasn’t… he didn’t want to kill people anymore.

That’s what she meant but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. It had only been three days. That wasn’t enough time for everything to just… go back to normal. And if Mustang was back to normal, did that mean Ed had to be back to normal as well? He couldn’t even bring himself to look at a candle, much less pretend like he was okay with everything. Was he expected to be back in the office? Was he expected to joke around with Mustang; insult him like he always did?

He tried, in his mind, playing out how their next meeting would go. He’d make fun of Mustang for getting caught. Except, even in his mind, he couldn’t get himself to say anything to him. The moment he opened his mouth, Mustang would snap and he’d be set on fire.

Al told him his dreams were getting worse. He’d scream out, begging for Mustang not to burn him.

Mustang was back to normal.

How was Ed supposed to be back to normal already? He couldn’t…

A part of him, a morbid part that wanted to see him suffer, wanted to go visit. He tried to indulge this part and convince himself that this was the best thing to do. He could go see Mustang for himself, talk to him, get a gauge for how he was feeling and how ‘back to normal’ he really was.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he could still see Mustang’s murderous face staring at him; hand outstretched and ready to snap.

A much larger part of him (and the part that ultimately won out) wanted him to stay away, far away from his superior officer. Mustang may be back to normal, but Ed certainly wasn’t. Besides, how could they be sure this wasn’t a trick? The doctor that had captured them wasn’t saying much. What if this was all part of the plan? What if Mustang recognized Hawkeye and Hughes but not him? What if the moment he stepped into that hospital room, his commanding officer would try to kill him again?

Al asked if he wanted to visit the night Mustang woke up. He said no.

He said no again the next night.

Al quit asking on the third night.

On the fourth night, he woke up screaming again. Tears stained his face as words died on his lips. He had begged Mustang not to kill him. He did it anyway. The fire was so hot.

On the fifth night, he forced himself to go. His nightmares were taking a toll on him, and he could tell they were torture for Al to listen to. He had to see for himself that Mustang was back to normal. He’d never be able to sleep again if he didn’t.

Besides, Hughes said the bastard was still strapped down to the fucking bed and hadn’t tried to attack anyone. The doctor said that Mustang was in Ishval and had to kill them all. He never specified to just go after Ed. Which meant he was back to normal. He was fine. He’d be safe. Mustang was back to normal. They’d snark at each other and then he’d be back to normal.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Al said softly as they walked up to the hospital.

Ed told him this morning that he was going to go and visit Mustang. It took him all day to build up the courage to go. Al was struggling between being encouraging and understanding. As much as Ed was afraid of Mustang, he kind of wished the man would show up at the dorm and force him to face him, much like he had forced him to face what he had done back when they failed at bringing mom back to life. If the bastard would just show up and yell at him like he did way back then, maybe he’d get back to normal sooner. But no, the bastard decided to put himself in hospital prison and hadn’t so much as called the entire time he had been awake. Which meant it was up to Ed to face down his fears and trauma and take back control of his life. Fuck, he hated that Mustang was the one that he was afraid of. When he didn’t want the bastard butting in, that’s all he did. When he did want the bastard butting in, he fucking refused.

He pulled on his coat and shoes and walked out the door, not giving himself time to think about where he was going. If he just headed to the hospital and didn’t stop, eventually he’d get there. He had already wasted a lot of time today wavering back and forth. It was already dark out and visiting hours would be over soon.

Maybe he’d get there and visiting hours would be over. Then he’d go back home and try again tomorrow.

“No, we’re doing this tonight. If I have to break in to see the bastard, then I will. I’ve gone long enough without knocking him down a few pegs,” Ed said, gritting his teeth and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. His heart pounded in his chest and he felt like he was going to be sick. He hadn’t managed to eat anything all day, the anxiety making his stomach flip constantly.

“Alright, brother. Whatever you need to do.”

Al had been surprisingly calm about this whole thing. Ed was expecting him to be angry at Mustang. He was expecting Al to bust into the hospital and string him up for almost killing him. He didn’t. Ed was glad he didn’t. He managed to get some of the details from Falman about what Mustang went through while he had been unconscious. He had been tortured for hours and injected with an unknown substance that might have killed him. Despite all of this, he still remembered Mustang trying to protect him, trying to get the doctor away from Ed and to focus on him instead. He had been through hell already. He didn’t need Al to make everything worse.

Ed stood by his words in the room. He hated that Havoc, Breda, Hawkeye, and Hughes had all heard them, but he refused to take them back. He didn’t blame Mustang for this. Not one bit. He was scared of him. He had nightmares about him. But he didn’t blame him. Maybe that was why Al was so calm and collected. Maybe he didn’t blame him either. It was all that crazy doctor’s fault. Not Mustang’s. No one could get mad at him for breaking after hours of torture.

“I should see him. He’s more injured than I am and someone needs to yell at him to get back to work. Hawkeye’s been swamped with him sitting on his lazy ass and flirting with all the nurses instead of working to get out of the hospital.”

“Yeah, but you’re still scared of him. You don’t have to force yourself if you’re not ready. It’s only been a week. He tried to—”

“I’ll never be ready though,” Ed said through gritted teeth, unwilling to let Al finish that sentence. If he did… he wouldn’t be able to step through the doors of the hospital. He couldn’t think about what Mustang tried to do to him, not yet.

“I have to see for myself. I have to know that he’s back to normal.”

“Do you want me to come in with you? Just in case?”

Ed swallowed down his anxiety and shook his head. “No. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes said he’s still restrained and hasn’t tried to attack anyone. I’ll be fine.”

“What about for moral support?”

“Moral support?” That made it sound like he needed a cheerleader. He was just going to talk to the bastard colonel and make sure he wasn’t slacking off. It wasn’t anything that needed moral support.

Al nodded. “Moral support is important.”

They finally made it to the hospital. Bright white light spilled out onto the dark streets. He forced himself to push the door open and step inside. His heart started beating faster than he thought possible. He thought he smelled smoke coming from down the hall.

“Um, no. I think I’m good.”

As they followed a friendly nurse’s directions to Mustang’s room, his mind started racing. He didn’t want Al in the room because he was trying to protect him. He trusted people so much more easily than Ed did. He trusted Mustang before Ed. He trusted the team before Ed. He strived to see the good in people until they gave him a reason not to. If Mustang wasn’t back to his normal self, he didn’t want Al to see that. He needed Al not to see that. He didn’t want him to also feel betrayed. He wasn’t kidding when he told Mustang they were all he had. He couldn’t risk Al not trusting him either. They both needed him.

He’d deal with this alone. If Mustang really couldn’t be trusted yet, then it was better for Ed to be the one whose trust was broken. Besides, he was fine. Mustang hadn’t burned him. He hadn’t even singed him. The fire was hot, yet he suffered almost no injuries from the experience. The only injury he got was a concussion that wasn’t even from Mustang and a prick on the finger that he did himself that didn’t even require a bandage. He had gotten harder knocks on the head running into Al’s armor. He was fine. He could do this.

They finally stopped in front of Mustang’s room. The door was closed. Was it just him or did all the walls grow ten feet and the hallways shrink five feet? Everything was closing in on him.

“You don’t have to go in, brother. We can wait,” Al said.

Damn him for being so patient! He was being childish, a baby! He wasn’t afraid of Mustang. The man had never hurt him. He had never scratched him or bruised him or burned him. He had never hurt him. Even after being tortured and drugged, he had never hurt him. He wasn’t afraid. He shouldn’t be afraid.

“No. I have to do this. The longer I wait, the harder it will be.” He put his hand on the door handle and paused. “You know the difference between me yelling at him for being an idiot and me yelling at him in case…” He couldn’t get the words out.

“Yes, brother,” Al said. “I know the difference. I’ll come in if things start going bad. And you have your arm back so you can fight if you need to.”

“Good.” He took another deep breath. “Good.”

Getting his hand to move was like trying to move a mountain. He couldn’t get it to turn the handle. Everything was shaking now. He shouldn’t be afraid. He wasn’t afraid.

“Brother,” Al said, gently but firmly.

Right, no time like the present. Mustang was back to normal. It was him who had all these fucking hang-ups. He’d get this over with and then everything would be back to normal.

He took (another) deep breath and opened the door. “Hey bastard, I’m here to see you,” he said as strongly as he could.

His entire body was shaking. Everything was telling him to run before he got hurt. He wouldn’t. Hughes said Mustang was still strapped to the bed. He wouldn’t hurt him. Al was right outside. He had his arm back. He’d be safe. He’d be fine.

Oh. Oh, he was not prepared to see Mustang. It looked… it looked so similar to how he had found him in that room with the crazy doctor. He was strapped to the bed, with thick leather cuffs on his wrists, ankles, and thighs instead of coarse rope. He couldn’t even move like that. It was…

“Fullmetal? What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was hoarse and he sounded worried.

He couldn’t… this wasn’t the Mustang he expected to see. Where was the cocky and confident asshole that lectured him from across a desk? Where was his commanding officer that made snide comments about his height and tried to get a rise out of him? Hawkeye said he was back to normal. This wasn't normal. The man in the bed wasn’t his Colonel Mustang. It was an imposter. It had to be. He looked…

“I’m here to see you, asshole. Weren’t you listening?” He swallowed and stepped more into the room, forcing himself to push those thoughts from his mind right now. The lights were off and it was completely silent in here. It made sense. Mustang couldn’t exactly move like that. Would it kill the nurses to put on a radio or something?

“Hawkeye said you were back to normal. Why the hell are you still strapped to the bed?” He shut the door behind him. He went to turn on the light but decided better of it. He didn’t want to see Mustang in the full light just yet.

“Hmm?” Mustang looked down at the straps as if he forgot they were there. “Oh, they’re just in case. We still don’t know a lot about the drug. I’d rather not risk it.”

He wasn’t looking at Ed. He was just sitting there, staring down at the straps. Ed hadn’t even seen his eyes.

“You seem fine.” Please, just tell me you’re fine so I can go back to normal. I can’t go back to normal if you’re not back to normal. Please, just tell me that doctor didn’t ruin you forever. I hate the fact that I now dream of you burning me. Please, just tell me you’re fine and you’re not going to hurt me.

“Leave it alone, Fullmetal.”

Okay, this was not how he expected the visit to go. He glanced around the room, trying to think of what to do next. What could he do next?

“You clearly recognize me. You’re calling me by my name. Wasn’t that something the crazy doctor kept asking about?”

“The restraints stay until we know for a fact that I’m back to normal.”

They lapsed once more into an uncomfortable silence. Several times, Ed opened his mouth to speak only to close it again when he realized he didn’t know what to say. From what he could see of Mustang’s profile, he looked like hell. There were still bruises and stitched-up cuts on his body, now turning yellow and green as they healed. He hadn’t shaved in a while. He was slumped over, a former shadow of himself. He still hadn’t looked at Ed once.

“I’m fine, you know. Thanks for asking,” he said, more to break the silence than anything.

Mustang didn't reply with a sarcastic comment. He flinched.

It hit him then what was going on. He had never seen himself sitting in that wheelchair, despondent after the failed transmutation. He remembered how Winry had tried to cheer him up by talking about the automail he could have only for him to shut her down. He wasn’t going to get automail, he told her. This was his punishment for what he had done. He didn’t deserve to walk ever again. He had sat there in that wheelchair, wallowing in pity and self-loathing. Unable and unwilling to even begin to move forward. Al tried to cheer him up. He tried to convince Ed that it wasn’t entirely his fault. He should get the surgery and live his life. He still had a chance to go back to normal, but Ed wouldn’t hear of it. If Al had to suffer, then he was going to suffer too.

It wasn’t until Mustang stormed through the door and, without missing a beat, yanked him up off that wheelchair and yelled at him to get a grip that he finally snapped out of it. Most people would have sat by and tried to talk to him with soft voices and kind words. Only Mustang knew what he needed. At the time, Granny and Winry both said what he did was cruel.

Maybe what he did was cruel, but it was also necessary. Ed wasn’t moving forward with pity and self-loathing. He only found the strength to move forward when someone told him to pick himself up and stand on his own two legs.

He was silent now. Not because he didn’t know what to say but because he was studying Mustang. He knew, even back then, that Al never blamed him for what happened. Despite knowing this, Ed still decided he was the reason everything had happened.

Ed was afraid of Mustang. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t after all the nightmares and the procrastinated visit. However, he realized Mustang was afraid of himself more than Ed ever would be of him. It didn’t matter how fine Ed was. So long as he allowed it, Mustang would sit there and wallow.

Well, fuck that shit!

If he didn’t get to wallow in a self-pity wheelchair for the rest of his life, then Mustang wasn’t going to either.

With renewed confidence that surprised himself, he marched up to him and forced his head back. He used his hand to shove Mustang’s hair out of his face and forced him to look him in the eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, glaring at Ed. His eyes were back to normal. Well, not normal. He still looked depressed and two seconds away from a complete breakdown. But he didn’t look murderous like he had before.

“You’re back to normal. I’m getting you out of these things before you fuse to the bed.” He let his hand drop and went to undo the straps around his ankles. He was still afraid of his hands.

“What? No, Fullmetal, leave it. Hughes will let me out when we’ve determined it’s safe.”

He got one undone. Damn, these things were tight. They left a deep red imprint on Mustang’s ankle and there was chaffed skin that had started to bleed. He wasn’t in these things for comfort.

“Please. You probably asked to keep them on because you’re a fucking egomaniac who doesn’t listen to others. I’m making the executive decision to let you out.”

“No! Stop! That’s an order. Do not undo that restraint.”

Another ankle done. Now, time for the thighs. “Since when have I ever listened to your orders? You’re back to normal now. So, quit slacking off and flirting with the nurses. Get back to work. It’s not fair to make Hawkeye and Havoc do all the paperwork, you bastard.”

“Ed, I’m serious. Put the restraints back on or so help me God,” he growled.

A brief spike of fear shot through him. For a second, he was back in that room, staring Mustang down and desperately trying to distract him long enough to escape.

No. He wasn’t going to be afraid. Not anymore. Mustang would never hurt him. According to Hughes, he had used his freed legs to break his nose. He hadn’t even tried to kick Ed now that his feet were undone. He was safe.

“Not gonna happen. I’m not letting you sit here and wallow in self-pity for the rest of your life, wasting away.” He got the thigh restraint undone. He thought for a moment before clapping his hands together and transmuting the three leather restrains into a pair of shoes.

“Ed, that’s military property. Turn them back and then put them back on.”

He got to the hands. He froze, briefly. To him, it was over in an instant. Each restraint he undid made him feel more in control, more normal. Mustang must have noticed it though.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, almost gently in a way. “Just leave them on so I can’t hurt you.”

Ed shook himself and returned to his mission. He picked at the restraint. Left hand undone. More raw and bleeding skin. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

He hadn’t gotten a scratch from Mustang the entire time he was in the room. He wasn’t burned. He wasn’t singed. Mustang had been in control long enough to let him escape, whether he knew it or not.

“Yes, I am! I almost killed you!” Mustang shouted, finally snapping out of his depressed funk.

Right hand, undone. The raw, red, bleeding skin was now free. Now the bastard could quit acting all guilty and pick himself up. Ed wasn’t going to carry his ass just because he felt bad.

“You were drugged and tortured. That wasn’t you.”

Before he could blink, Mustang was out of bed, hands on his shoulders, and towering over him. Ed may have flinched. Mustang didn’t notice or didn’t care. He was too busy yelling.

“You don’t get it. You don’t understand!” He shouted, pushing Ed back until his back hit the wall. “That is me. Do you think you’re the first person I’ve ever found in that situation? Do you think I’ve never used my alchemy to kill another person? Do you think that I haven’t been given those exact orders before? Except they didn’t have to use a drug or torture. I did it all willingly! I've hurt and killed people willingly!”

Even though Mustang was towering over him, yelling at him, and still possibly under the influence of some unknown drug that made him incredibly dangerous, Ed wasn’t afraid. It helped that he had his arm on and could now do alchemy quickly and efficiently. Also, Mustang was still very injured and his muscles had atrophied from lack of use this past week. He had a feeling Mustang was holding onto him more to keep himself up than to keep Ed in place.

“You cannot sit there and say that I am not a danger to you or anyone else. Do you think I got the nickname Commander of Hellfire because of how fucking nice I was in Ishval? I am a monster. I am one of the most dangerous people in this world. I can turn you to ash with the snap of my fingers. There are so many ways I can kill you without even touching you. Do you really think that wasn’t me in that room? Do you really think that you’re safe anywhere near me?”

He held his arms by his side, breathing deeply and keeping himself under control. He wasn’t afraid. Not of Mustang. The man may have killed people in the past. He may have used his alchemy to hurt innocents. Ed couldn’t pretend he wasn’t angry about that. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t furious that alchemy had been used in such a horrendous way. However, it was also clear that Mustang took no pleasure in hurting people. He wasn’t like Tucker or Cornello. He wasn’t like the actual monsters that Ed had come into contact with on his travels. Hell, the man willingly strapped himself to a bed much longer than necessary because he briefly contemplated murdering Ed and broke Lieutenant Colonel Hughes’ nose after he had been tortured for several hours and injected with a hallucinogenic by a crazy doctor. Ed wasn’t sure anyone could be reasonably blamed for their actions under those circumstances.

“I hurt people. That’s what I do. Just because you haven’t seen me hurt anyone before doesn’t mean that I’m a good person. I’m not.”

Ed didn’t interrupt him. He wanted him to burn himself out so he could have a turn yelling. Besides, even though it was clear that Mustang was angry, he had yet to hurt him. He was yelling and crowding him up against the wall, but he hadn't hurt him. His hands were on his shoulders but they weren’t gripping him tightly. He hadn’t shoved him against the wall. He wasn’t shaking him. He was just… not hurting him. Still not hurting him. Not even a slap or a pinch.

“How can you be in the same room with me when I tried to kill you? Don’t you get it? I was going to burn you to death. I was going to put you through one of the worst ways to die. Do you really think that’s not something to fear? Do you really think I should ever be allowed to walk free ever again? What would have happened if you hadn’t managed to trap me? Your brother wouldn’t even have had a body to bury and I would have continued to burn my way through East City without a second thought. How can you set me free when I tried to hurt you?”

Finally, he stopped his rant, breathing heavily. Now it was Ed’s turn to yell. Except, he didn’t feel like yelling. He still wasn’t sure entirely what he was doing or what Mustang needed. He decided to just go with his instincts and hope that it all turned out for the best. It wasn't like he was in familiar territory at the moment. Besides, he doubted he could make the situation worse.

“God, you’re such a fucking narcissist. I’m trying to be nice and all you can think about is yourself.” He threw his arms around him. Okay, apparently he instinctually wanted to hug Mustang. He didn’t know how he felt about that.

He tried to ignore the fact that he was much shorter than the bastard. He also hoped that no one was drawn to the sounds of Mustang shouting and would come in the room to check on him. The last thing he needed was for someone to see him hugging this son of a bitch.

Mustang froze. Went rigid. Arms plastered by his side. “Fullmetal—”

“Don’t ‘Fullmetal’ me. Shut up and listen. God, you’re such an asshole.”

He was caught between holding the hug a little longer and letting go. If he hugged Mustang for any longer, the bastard might get ideas about him liking him and Mustang would then hold it against him. If he let go, the bastard might see that his eyes had betrayed him and were starting to tear up. Which would give him ideas about him liking him and Mustang would then hold it against him. Fuck, neither of those options were desirable.

He decided to keep hugging him. If anyone asked, he was trying to keep Mustang in place so the fucker couldn’t run away.

He almost didn’t admit anything or get too emotional. That’s how their relationship worked. They were distant from each other; trading insults and jabs rather than actual words of appreciation (or affection, if he were being honest). However, he couldn’t pretend now that he didn’t care for Mustang at least a little. Not after he outright said it in that room. He still couldn’t believe other people heard it. Someone kill him!

Besides, it was clear that this was tearing Mustang apart. It made Ed feel better about everything. He felt like that was selfish. But just knowing how guilty Mustang was made him feel safer. He wasn’t like Tucker, who thought he was justified. Or Cornello, who was just straight-up crazy. He was… he was human. He was safe.

“I’m not going to pretend like I wasn’t scared or anything,” he started. Mustang flinched. He continued. He needed to say this. He needed this stubborn bastard to understand.

“I was scared. I’ve never seen you like that before and—” his voice cracked. Fuck, don’t break down now.

“It’s okay,” Mustang said softly once more. “You don’t have to—”

“No, I do. Because if I don’t, you’re going to lock yourself up for no reason and I’m going to hate your fucking guts for it. Got it? If you stay here strapped to the bed until your body atrophies beyond repair, I’ll hate you more than I already do.”

Mustang didn’t say anything. He didn’t move.

Ed swallowed down his tears and continued. “It scared me, alright. I did think I was going to die. I didn’t want to die. I don’t want to die. But I also don’t blame you. I didn’t blame you then and I’m not blaming you now. Remember? I told you that in the room. Even though I was scared and I thought you were going to kill me. I didn’t blame you.”

“You should.”

He shook his head, conveniently wiping tears and snot of Mustang’s hospital gown. Served the bastard right, forcing him to open up like this. “No, I shouldn’t. Do you think you’re the first person who’s tried to kill me? Is your ego so big that you forgot how many people I’ve had to face down who wanted to kill me?”

Mustang flinched again. Ed held fast, though. He wasn’t letting go. If someone were to ask, he would say it was because he was afraid of the bastard bolting and then they’d never getting him back to normal. He was doing a great service for his country and sacrificing a lot by hugging Mustang. The part of himself that he was still allowing to be honest, however, wanted to hold onto him because he needed a warm body to comfort him now.

“I’ve faced down so many fucking psychopaths. Father Cornello tried to kill me. That one guy who jacked the train tried to kill me. That one guy from that small village tried to kill me. The point is, a lot of people have tried to kill me. It scared me when you did too, but I’m not afraid of you.”

“How? Do you not understand how painful it is to burn to death? How can you still be around me after what I almost did to you?”

Ed slumped further into Mustang. He was so tired. He wished this idiot would get the point without him having to spell it out. Fuck, he was going to deny everything if anyone ever asked. As far as he was concerned, Mustang got out of his slump by his fucking self. No Fullmetal hugging intervention required.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he felt a lump build in his throat. He was going to regret this.

“Do you know how people don’t feel guilty when they kill animals for food?”

“What?”

“Answer the question, bastard, I have a point.”

“I guess?”

“Everyone, when they kill cows or chickens or whatever, they don’t feel guilty. It has to be done. When I confronted Tucker about what he did… to Nina…”

Mustang stiffened once more.

“I wanted him to feel guilty. Even though what he did to her was inexcusable, I thought, if he just felt guilty, if he just felt bad, that would make things a little better. I wanted him to give me some sort of excuse as to why he had to…” Fuck, he was crying again. Mustang better not mention this to anyone.

“I wanted him to say sorry. Or to tell me it was a lapse in judgment. Or that his hand was forced. Or something! Anything! Anything to show that he felt bad, but he didn’t. He talked about what he did like people talk about butchering chickens. Something that wasn’t even worth feeling guilty over. Something that had to be done. Except, it didn’t have to be done. She didn’t have to go through that. She was a person and there was no reason for that to happen to her. He didn’t feel guilty. He couldn’t even muster up a ‘sorry’. He just kept talking like he had killed the family cow for dinner.”

This time, instead of flinching or going rigid or whatever, Mustang brought his arms up to finally return the hug. Except, it was kind of a lame hug since he still seemed afraid of hurting Ed. His arms were more awkwardly hovering around his body instead of hugging him properly. Ed squeezed the bastard tighter, afraid that Mustang would run away and leave him. Just like…

“You keep saying you’re a monster and you’re going to hurt me again and whatever. But I’ve seen monsters. I’ve been forced to spend time with them. I’ve been forced to listen to them spew out a bunch of excuses as to why they had to act the way they acted.”

He took a deep breath. “You are nothing like them. I’d rather be back in that room trying to talk you down rather than face Tucker again and try to get him to admit what he did was wrong. You know what you did was wrong. And that’s surprisingly rare in the world. And you can trust me on this. I can list all the people who’ve tried to kill me with no guilt whatsoever, if you’d like proof.”

Finally, his words seemed to get through to Mustang. His arms, which had previously been wrapped loosely around Ed’s body were now crushing him to his chest. Squeezing him as if he were afraid Ed was the one that would bolt and disappear forever.

Someone’s legs gave out. Or maybe both of their legs did. Either way, they ended up in a heap on the floor. Mustang never let go of him. He never stopped hugging him with all his strength. Ed wasn’t crying. Mustang was the one who was crying. His tears were just making their way onto his face. What a jerk. The tears definitely weren’t coming from his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Mustang said, burying his face in Ed’s hair and squeezing him even tighter. Ed wasn’t entirely sure how that was possible.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t know what to say anymore. I know. I forgive you. It’s not your fault. These all seemed hollow in the face of such immense horror. Ed had his fair share of guilt and feeling like a monster, especially after what happened to Al and mom. However, at least Al agreed to do it. He couldn’t imagine just trying to kill him one day for no reason. Or hell, even if he had a reason, he couldn’t imagine trying to kill him.

“I thought I killed you. I don’t remember you getting out of the room. When I woke up… People don’t survive me.”

Shit, Ed hadn’t even thought of that. Mustang was pretty out of it when he escaped from the room. He just assumed, though, that he had seen him escape or that Hughes had told him or something.

“But I did,” he mumbled, still not sure if this was helping or not. Did he want Mustang to be sobbing? Was this going to help him stop wallowing and get back to work?

“You shouldn’t have. I… I thought I had burned you. I should have burned you. I still can’t believe I didn’t kill you.”

“Do you want me to hit you or something?”

“You’re supposed to pinch people when they’re dreaming,” Mustang said. He somehow managed to wrap himself around Ed so thoroughly, it felt like the entire world had been blocked out. It wasn’t because Ed was small. Had absolutely nothing to do with that. Mustang was just very good at acting like an octopus and wrapping himself around people.

“Fine, want me to pinch you, bastard?”

Mustang squeezed him again. “Not really.”

“If you’re sure.” Ed let himself slump into Mustang. He was fine. He was safe. Mustang wasn’t going to hurt him. “You didn’t kill me. You didn’t hurt me. You hesitated long enough for me to get out of there. You’re not a monster. Understand?”

Mustang laughed, hoarse and wet, still muffled by Ed’s hair. “I still can’t believe I hesitated and then missed.”

“I knocked your hand out of the way with concrete so that’s why you missed. As for why you hesitated, I mentioned something about alchemy. Maybe that was it?”

For a brief moment, brief enough that Ed almost missed it, Mustang stiffened again. However, he was back to normal in the blink of an eye. Strange.

“Yeah, maybe.” He loosened his grip. “Is your brother here? I’m surprised he didn’t come in when I started shouting.”

“Yeah, he’s here.” Ed shrugged. He was a little surprised as well. He couldn’t complain, though. He was glad Al let Mustang get it all out.

“He said he knew the difference between you shouting just to shout, like normal, and you shouting because something was wrong.”

“Something was wrong. Is wrong.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Bastard, how many times do I have to tell you that nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. You didn’t even scratch me.”

“I tried, though. That should be enough.”

“It’s not. You know it’s not.”

Mustang opened his mouth to argue, but seemed to think better of it and closed it. Bingo. Mission accomplished.

“Come on.” Ed pushed himself to his feet. “You’re still injured and probably shouldn’t be sitting on the dirty floor. He grabbed Mustang’s wrists and yanked him to his feet.

“Shit, Fullmetal, that hurt!” He gasped, staggering forward slightly.

Ed caught him and helped him over to the bed.

“Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll think about that before putting yourself in hospital prison. Were you seriously going to spend the rest of your life strapped to a bed?”

Mustang didn’t answer. That gave Ed all the answers he needed. He shoved him down onto the bed.

“Remember what I said, bastard, I need you so you can’t go pulling shit like this again.”

“You… need me?” Mustang sounded shocked. Did he not remember what Ed said before activating the transmutation circle? Come to think of it, did he say that he needed Mustang? Oh, fuck, did he just admit that he needed the bastard completely unprompted? Shit!

“Well… yeah… I mean, you’re the one who helped me get into the military and you keep Al’s secret. You send me on missions that are related to the philosopher’s stone and shit. You think anyone else is going to do that?”

Mustang smiled and ruffled his hair. Ed let out a choked noise, fighting with himself between leaning into the touch and batting the hand away.

“Whatever you say, Fullmetal.”

*****

Mustang had to admit, he did not expect Ed to bash his way in here and yank him back to normal so quickly. Up until his visit, he had kind of assumed that nothing could bring him back to normal. Hughes and Hawkeye were trying their best, but even they couldn’t compete with the knowledge that Mustang had almost killed Ed. But Ed managed to do it in less than an hour.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. That was how their relationship started, after all. If anything, it was rather poetic, in a way. He was grateful to the kid that he did bash his way in here and force Mustang to reconcile with what he did and who he was. The kid was right, he did need him. Mustang couldn’t afford to sit here and be depressed for the rest of his life because of something he almost did.

Al came in not long after Ed shoved him back down onto the bed. He gave him a big hug and whispered in his ear, “If you kill brother, I’ll kill you.”

He couldn’t help but smile at this. “I expect nothing less from you, Al.”

The boys stayed for a while longer. A nurse came by to check on him and nearly had a panic attack when she saw his restraints had been undone. Mustang managed to calm her down and she agreed to keep them off, rushing out of the room not long after to tell Hughes that he was free and not rampaging about.

When the boys finally did leave, after Ed started dozing off in a chair, it gave Mustang some time to think.

Ed’s theory about how his mention of alchemy was the reason he hesitated was not remotely true. Several Ishvalans (he shuddered to remember) had used similar excuses. All in a hope that he would take pity and let them escape. It didn’t make him hesitate. It made everything worse. These people were so desperate to survive they’d tell him whatever they thought he wanted to hear so they could escape. But in the end, it didn’t matter. He had his orders and he was going to follow them to the bitter end. He was a good soldier, after all. And a good soldier always follows orders.

So why, then, did he hesitate with Ed? And why did he not hesitate with Hughes? It was a question that had stumped the doctor as well. There was something about Ed specifically that made him stop, made him stay his hand.

He thought back to what Ed said about Tucker. He never did open up much after the incident. Mustang got the official report but there was always something missing. In many ways, it made Ed pull away even more than before. He didn’t think he himself handled the situation very well. Even at the time, he felt out of his depth, forcibly reminded that Ed was just a child thrown into a world full of evil and cruel adults who wanted to hurt him. The fact that Ed and Al stayed so hopeful at all was a miracle.

But the fact that Ed specifically talked about Tucker when he could have talked about any of his other dangerous encounters with remorseless people (and good lord there were way too many for Mustang’s comfort), was telling.

He had to force himself to admit what was going on here. It scared him, these thoughts and feelings. They were so foreign and strange. It was something he had never felt before and something he had never expected to feel. He didn’t know how to handle them. He didn’t know if this was even something he should be handling. In the end, he couldn’t lie to himself.

The reason he hesitated when he saw Ed wasn’t because he talked about Alchemy, or because he was young, or because he didn’t look Ishvalan and his brain instinctually recognized the disconnect. It was something much deeper, much more primal, much more boring than that. Something that Dr. Monroe hadn’t stopped to consider when designing the formula. And why would he? Mustang wouldn’t have thought about it if he had been designing a formula meant to make soldiers into mass murderers.

If Hughes had been put in that room with Elicia, he would have hesitated.

Mustang had been put in that room with Ed, and he hesitated.

He tried to feel shocked at these emotions. This felt like it should be something huge, something worth feeling shocked over. He hadn’t planned it, after all. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised.

He wondered if he should tell Ed the truth; tell him why he hesitated. Didn’t the kid deserve to know? He had to be wondering the same thing. Mustang had clear orders. He was a good soldier. He had followed similar orders in the past. He still refused to follow them when it was Ed in front of him.

No, now was not the right time. Their relationship was still too difficult. Ed was still just a bit too skittish around him and the idea of affection in general. There were still too many people scrutinizing him and still too much work he had to do. He couldn’t risk Ed and Al being caught up in anything, especially now. Besides, the kids needed him to be exactly as he was. One day, he’d tell them the truth. Today was not that day. He still had to play the part of a good soldier that followed orders without question.

Though, it was becoming clearer and clearer that he wasn’t such as good soldier after all.