Given my username, it was only a matter of time before I (very loosely!) based a fic off a Greek tragedy. But don't worry; you don't have to be familiar with Prometheus Bound to read this story.

This is a giftfic for the lovely, talented, and venerable mebh. If you haven't read her stuff, you are missing out. Seriously. Stop reading this drivel, go to mebh's page, and enjoy some quality writing. The end.

Done? You read it all? Okay.

mebh requested something crazy dark with a hurt!Roy and a rescue mission. She might have asked for other things, but we'll get to that later.

Here goes.

Part 1: Simple Sooth

What thou wouldst learn I will make clear to thee,
Not weaving subtleties, but simple sooth
Unfolding as the mouth should speak to friends.
I am Prometheus, giver of fire to mortals.

Aeschylus – Prometheus Bound

He tossed back the last swallow of whiskey. His mouth twisted. It tasted sour.

Perfect. It matched his mood.

He still could not believe it. He was so certain – it was practically his. When Brigadier General Maple called Mustang into his office, Roy was confident he knew the reason. Grumman hinted weeks ago during one of their chess games that Mustang would climb the ranks very soon. Roy remembered flashing Hawkeye a smug grin as he slipped through the door, already drunk on his victory. But General Maple had not summoned him to offer his congratulations. Rather, it was to dole out disappointing news.

Passed up for promotion. Roy was to remain a Lieutenant Colonel for at least another year. Another stagnant, useless year. Another step away from his goal. It was a bitter letdown. It downright stung.

The reasons for the decision were vague and meaningless. He needed more time to 'mature as an officer.' General Maple was convinced Roy required more experience before he was ready to take on the responsibilities of a full colonel. Mustang dutifully saluted his superior, saying his 'yes sirs' as expected, while inwardly he seethed at the injustice of it all.

The worst part had been her eyes. Roy had burst out of Maple's office, a whirlwind of righteous fury, to find her standing there. Waiting for him, as always. And - as always - she knew the result of the meeting with Maple the moment she saw him. He could not stand the silent sympathy in her unwavering gaze. Of course she did not show her disappointment. She would never impose her own feelings upon him; she would never yoke him with that burden. But he knew they was there, hidden away even from him. When he lost, she lost too. He failed her. He failed them.

He did not look at her as he brushed past. He could not stand it, the way her eyes looked straight through him.

God, it was unbearable sometimes.

And unfortunately, he picked the wrong bar to wallow in his defeat. Fate had it in for him tonight. Roy glanced to the other end of the room, where a group of soldiers sat in a raucous cluster. He recognized every one of them, and he knew the source of his discontent nestled casually in their midst. As it turned out, someone had been promoted today. And he sat not twenty feet from Roy. The newly-made Colonel Ophis nursed a frothy ale, his ruddy cheeks flushed with pleasure as his comrades slapped him on the back.

Roy's expression darkened as hatred and jealousy boiled thick and hot within him. It writhed deep in his stomach and he felt bile climb to the back of his throat. He deserved that position. Not that bumbling, asinine nobody. How could this happen? How had he been so overlooked? If only he had convinced the Elrich boy to come back with him. A boy prodigy alchemist would have clinched the promotion.

A wave of laughter swept through the celebratory party. The jarring noise reverberated off the walls, and Roy longed to stop his ears to damp the sound. He contemplated leaving the tavern, but the threat of being spotted stealing away in shame cemented him to his seat. His pride would not allow retreat. He kept his gaze trained on his now-empty glass.

A soldier peeled off from the group and stumbled toward the bar. Roy saw him in the corner of his vision and he knew – he knew – it was the new Colonel. Fate was not his friend tonight. Ophis' bleary eyes spotted Roy almost immediately. He sauntered to the bar, all fresh confidence and unhurried nonchalance. "Well, well. If it isn't the famous Flame Alchemist," she slurred. He signaled the bartender for another round of ale. "Aren't you going to congratulate me, Lieutenant Colonel?"

Roy did not bother looking up from the glass that twirled between his hands. "Should I?" he asked airily.

"In fact you should." His chest puffed. "You're looking at Eastern Headquarters' newest full-fledged Colonel."

"Hmmm. That's interesting."

Ophis frowned, betrayed by his fledgling confidence. "What's interesting?"

Roy smirked, his eyes still on his glass. If he could not have the promotion he craved, he could at least enjoy toying with the man that stole it from him. "Oh, nothing… sir."

"What, Mustang? If you have something to say, then say it."

Roy shrugged, sending a sloe-eyed look up at his now-superior. "Isn't your father a General stationed in Western headquarters? I hear he and Maple are good… acquaintances."

Ophis' face twisted. "What are you implying? If you think my father had anything to do with my promotion, you're wrong. I earned it." He snorted. "Anyways, you're one to talk, Mustang. You kiss ass more than any of us. Not that it does you any good. You may have your 'special time' with Grumman, but it didn't seem to get you very far this time, now did it?"

Mustang mouth dropped into the smallest of frowns. No matter. He had other ammunition at his disposal. "This isn't the first time daddy's helped you out, is it, Colonel? It seems to me one of your training exercises went awry last spring. I should know – I was the one sent to clean up that mess. All that money had to come from somewhere. I wonder where?" Roy watched Ophis' eyes slowly transform as each word hit their intended mark. Sometimes simple truth cut sharper than the keenest knife. "How did you manage to accidentally detonate that bunker, by the way? I am intensely curious."

With a vicious snarl, Ophis grabbed the collar of Roy's shirt, lifting him from the seat. His knuckles pressed into Roy's windpipe, and Mustang let out a choked cry. "You wanna know why you weren't made full Colonel, you little shit?" he spat. "It's because you manipulate people like the rat you are. You think you know everything. And you make sure everyone you meet knows it. You strut around like a proud fucking cock. Well, guess what? General Maple saw right through you. That's why you'll never be anything more than a fucking dog to them. That's the only reason why they want you. To use you, Flame. You're just a tool to them. A tool for killing." He pushed Roy into his seat and released his collar. The chair tipped back precariously for a moment before it righted itself.

Roy fixed the elder man with a self-possessed stare, an impudent smirk resolutely plastered on his lips. His hands calmly smoothed his lapels. "I'm confused… which one am I? A rat, a cock, or a dog?"

Ophis stared at Roy, hatred, disbelief, and fury playing over his features in turn. His hands tightened into white fists; the tendons creaked in protest. After a tense, heavy moment, the Colonel tossed his head, as though trying to shake a buzzing fly away. "Fuck it," Ophis seethed. "You're not worth it." The Colonel swept up his drinks from the bar, the ale sloping messily over his shaking hands. He stalked away. Roy heard Ophis' friends call out in greeting as he rejoined their merry party, uninterrupted by the muted spat nearby.

Roy turned back to the bar, his expression darkening, his thoughts bleak, his heart stony.

It was nights like this that made him question what it was all for. The war. The blood on his hands. The confident façade. He hated himself for it. And – as Ophis was cruel enough to point out – others hated him for it, too. Though Roy's mind fearfully shied away from the thought, he knew the Flame Alchemist was equally loved and reviled. Trusted and mistrusted. Venerated and feared. Roy often wondered how it was possible for one man to be so many things. It was such a burden. The weight of it dragged at him. The only way he could cope was by veiling his uncertainty behind a curtain of snarky comments and all-knowing smiles.

Ophis was right. He was a little shit.

Roy curled in on himself, a desolate, gnawing hollowness carving a hole in his chest. The yawning void made him breathless. He desperately needed to fill it with something. Anything. He could not bear this empty feeling of failure.

A slim hand slid over Roy's shoulder to rest on his collarbone. The spicy smell of perfume filled his nose. "You looked lonely over here," said a soft, husky voice. "You're too handsome for that."

Roy glanced to his left. A woman leaned close, clad in a dress of the thinnest material. In clung to her, accentuating her shapely curves. She held a whiskey in one hand.

It took only a moment to don his confident mask once more. "Is that for me?" he asked impishly, glancing at the drink. A wan smile spread over his lips. It did not touch his eyes.

"Only if you want it," she answered. Her voice was soft, the timbre low. It promised pleasant, secret things. She leaned forward to slip her hand further down his chest. Her breast pressed into his arm.

"I wouldn't want to deprive you of your drink."

She smiled secretly. "Whiskey's not for me. Too sour."

Roy slipped a hand around her waist. His palm found her hip. It was warm and soft and round. It felt… good. It made him forget things, if only a little. "What's your pleasure?"

The woman looked down at him, her expression unreadable. She was blonde, her hair pinned back. Perfect. Roy's thumb circled absently along the crest of her hipbone and for a fleeting moment he imagined she was someone else.

"I'd like something sweet," the woman said. She stepped around him to lean her back against the bar. She lifted her leg to rub it against his, up and down.

He knew he should not encourage her. Though his reputation as a womanizer was not unearned, it was certainly exaggerated. He was not in the habit of bedding random women he met in bars. But her knee was warm against his thigh. And his chest felt so horribly empty. And she was so enticingly full. He wanted to fill himself with her. His hand slid down from her waist to alight on the inside of her knee. One corner of her lips lifted into a wicked half-smile. Roy wanted to kiss it. If only to forget.

The woman leaned forward, giving Roy a most pleasant view. One hand twined into the hair at the nape of his neck and the other pressed the tumbler of whiskey into his free hand. "On me," she said. She leaned back against the bar, her eyes dark and all-knowing. "You look like you need it."

Roy smiled at her in thanks as he lifted the glass to his lips. The whiskey burned – wonderfully numbing – down his throat. He emptied the glass in three greedy swallows and set it on the tabletop.

Her eyes never left his. "How about we get out of here?"

Roy nodded, tossing a few cens on the bar. He stumbled a bit as he rose from his chair, but the woman caught him, having already moved to stand at his elbow. She laughed lightly. "How many drinks have you had, handsome?"

"Enough," he said, flashing a crooked grin. He wound his hand around her waist.

The night air was cool when they stepped outside. A waning moon illuminated the empty streets. It cast a pale glow on the woman's hair, transforming her golden locks into silver. He tried not to be disappointed by that.

"Where are we headed?" He slurred. His tongue felt thick and clumsy.

"This way," she said, tugging him to a narrow alley that branched from the main avenue.

Roy blinked as a burst of dizziness overcame him. The whiskey was hitting him harder than he anticipated. His hand dropped from her waist. "What's down there?"

She smiled enchantingly. "You'll see." Her arm slid down from his elbow to grasp his hand. She tugged him toward the dark alley, insistent. "Come on, Roy." She looked so very lovely in the moonlight. So ripe and full. Like a forbidden fruit. He followed her into the shadows, his feet tripping over one another. His head swam.

It was not until he was well into the alley that a thought surfaced in his muddled mind. "Wait." He stopped, frowning, and he shook his hand out of her grip. His vision dipped and spun alarmingly. Roy reeled for a moment before he managed to lean an arm against the brick wall. "How do you know my name?"

The woman turned to face him, her eyes guarded. "Everyone knows who you are, Roy Mustang," she said simply. But her voice was tight and wary. She held out her hand to him. "Come."

He did not like this. Something was wrong. "No," Roy mumbled. He stepped away from the woman. His feet fumbled and his shoulder glanced against the wall. "Stay away from me." The words garbled around his thickened tongue. Roy shook his head as he desperately fought the dense, cotton-wool sensation that stuffed his head. Everything was cloudy. His movements were slow; he felt like he was moving through sap. Roy slid down the wall as waves of drowsiness crashed over him. His hand stole towards his trouser pocket, where he kept his gloves.

In his dimming vision he saw the woman's heeled shoes approach. "No, Flame," she chastised lightly. Her hand batted his away with astounding ease. She reached deep into the pocket, her fingers finding more than gloves buried there. Her wicked mouth spread into a depraved smile. "The other girls don't lie about you." Her finger ran down his length before she drew forth the ignition cloth, rocking them back and forth in front of his slackening face.

Roy swallowed thickly and uttered a moan of protest, no longer capable of forming coherent words. He weakly tried to reach for his gloves, but she simply pulled them away from his leaden swipe. Roy slumped forward, his breath coming in guttural pants as he fought to stay awake.

She trailed a long fingernail down his cheek. "Shhh."

Roy's vision faded to black. As his consciousness waned, he heard voices that seemed to come from very far away.

"Is he down?" a man said, the words echoing brassily in Roy's ears.

"Yes. He drank the entire thing, the fool," the woman replied.

"Perfect. Help me get him into the car."

Roy felt hands grip him under his arms before the nothingness took him.

:-O

Oh dear. mebh made me do it!