Disclaimer: I do not own FMA (seriously, if I did, do you know what kind of crack would be in there?)
A/N: If a friend offers you a cookie and you promise to pay her back, stop offering to pay her back before you owe her fifty dollars. Oh, to be young and stupid and totally clueless to yaoi… nah, scratch that. I likes yaoi too much X3. This horrible story all sprung up from the fifty-dollars-in-cookies-debt I owe to my WONDERFULLY BI FRIEND! SERIUOSLY, SHE'S FRICKIN AWESOME! YOU SHOULD ALL GO TO HER HOUSE AND BURN IT DOWN! Kidding, I loves you Deli. No, she just wanted a simple, RoyAl PWP from me instead of fifty dollars. Pretty decent, seeing as I have no money… but RoyAl is not, I repeat not, not, not! my favorite shipping and I could not write anything good. So after ranting to another friend, I came up with the brilliant idea "Hey! Let's threaten to make it mpreg, scare her off!"
Apparently, only my friends would say "Yeah!" *head/desk* Stupid, stupid me! So, I was forced to write RoyAl mpreg… and then I started reading some torture!fics and well… let's just say Deli is a horrible sadist… Ah, but quit reading this, seriously. Read the fic, it's just a little bit better.
Oh, and just to help you understand- this is just after the end of the anime, sorta. Al still has his memories though and his body is the age it's supposed to be. Mustang never went north but kept his status as brigadier general in Central and he still has his eyepatch, cause it's smexy. New fuhrer, horrible rebels, Ed's still on the other side of the gate… yeah, I think that's it.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
"Neither dead nor alive, the hostage is suspended by an incalculable outcome. It is not his destiny that awaits for him, nor his own death, but anonymous chance, which can only seem to him something absolutely arbitrary. He is in a state of radical emergency, of virtual extermination." ~Jean Baudrillard
"Warehouses seem popular with the rebels, huh, Chief?" Havoc joked as they silently approached the old warehouse on the outskirts of Central. Roy nodded, not turning his head to look at his subordinate who was standing on his blind-side. The brigadier general frowned up at the abandoned building, muttering under his breath. It would be difficult for them to get in without alerting the rebels within. He wanted to just torch the building and wait for the insurgents to scurry out like the rats they were. Only problem was, the hostages inside would most likely be abandoned to the flames. The soldiers were there to rescue as many of the hostages as they could and capture the leaders. The trouble now was going about it.
"Hawkeye, take half the men and set them up at all the exits. I don't want anyone getting out unless they're wearing military uniform," Roy ordered, directing his commands at the blond major beside him. "Havoc, take twelve men and cause a distraction in the back. I don't care what you do, just try not to kill too many people if you can." Both blonds saluted and began calling to the men under their command. "Richards, tell the rest of them to be ready."
Roy looked at the dark windows of the two-story warehouse. He chewed the inside of his lip, hoping his plan would work. These rebels didn't seem much more than the last of the insurgents who had caused mass rioting after the death of the old fuhrer. They didn't appear to be much of a threat to the military; there was estimated to be about fifty men here with about a dozen or so groups of ten scattered around the country. The only problem they posed was towards civilians. The rebels had been kidnapping and killing over the past few months and the new fuhrer was sick of it. Mustang had been sent out with plenty of soldiers to take care of the problem.
A loud explosion cut through Roy's thoughts. He heard shouts and gunshots and knew Havoc's distraction was well underway. "Let's go," he said to the men closest to him. The order was whispered down the line and soon Roy and about twenty-five men were racing into the dark warehouse.
.
"General! We've found the hostages!" Ten minutes of frantic searching, dodging bullets, detaining as many insurgents as they could, had led Roy's men to the second floor. Two soldiers stood outside the open door, alert for any rebels who weren't preoccupied by the distraction still going on outside the warehouse. Roy entered the dimly lit room slowly, waiting for a surprise attack from inside.
Six people sat against the back wall, their hands tied to their feet. The floor was covered in what appeared to be dried blood and vomit. The air was rancid with the smell of sick and infection. A body lay in the corner, mostly likely dead judging by the dirty jacket thrown over it. The six survivors looked to the soldiers with hope. The best condition of the victims seemed to be a couple very large bruises and welts while the worst (other than the dead body) seemed barely conscious
"Have you found where the leader's holed himself up?" Roy asked one of the men as the hostages were freed of the ropes.
"No, sir," the soldier said. "We sent five men on ahead to see if they could find anything."
"Are there any more hostages here?" A soldier knelt down to talk to a young woman.
"Y-yes," she murmured. "They always take him away, though."
"Only one hostage left?" the soldier asked. The woman nodded.
"Get these people out of here," Roy ordered. "Vael, Clarke, Sages, you six over there, come with me." Roy led the selected soldiers down the hall.
"General Mustang!" Roy heard the shouts followed by a series of gunshots. "General, the leader!"
Roy turned the corner and saw three of the five soldiers sent ahead firing at a small group of men fleeing from them. Roy raced after them followed closely by his soldiers. He raised his gun, taking aim at the men.
A familiar flash of red made him hesitate. His eyes widened as he saw the red jacket that had come to represent the bane of his existence, the horrible hellion that was Edward Elric. For an instant, he hoped the boy had returned even if it was these bastards that had him for nearly a year. But the wide, terrified eyes weren't the same vibrant gold, the short, honey colored hair fisted in the leader's hand not that of the older Elric. The ugly rebel cocked a gun and pressed the muzzle to Alphonse's temple. "Now, now Mustang. Let's not be too hasty about waving those guns around."
Roy took the hint and slowly lowered his gun.
"That's right," the man said smoothly as the rest of his men fled down the hall and out of sight. "Now just back away slowly and let me go or else my finger might just slip." He pressed the gun harder into Al's skin as he slowly backed away.
"No!" Al screamed, struggling to pull free. "No! Let me go!"
"Dammit, stop struggling, brat," the leader growled, yanking at the teen's hair. Roy watched with frustration, searching for an opening to shoot the rebel. He winced as the leader clubbed Al in the back of the head with the gun. The teen cried out in pain, shaking his head. He held still for a moment, allowing the rebel to gain a few paces backward. Then suddenly, Al threw up on the man's legs. The rebel cursed, releasing Al.
"Shoot now!" Roy ordered, firing his own badly aimed shot over the rebel's shoulder. The leader turned tail and ran as the soldiers began firing at him. Al fell to his hands and knees, dry-heaves wracking his body. Roy ran over to the boy. He put a hand on his boney back and watched as his men raced after their fleeing target.
"Al, are you ok?" Roy asked. Obviously not, he noted as Al continued to heave. "Calm down, Al." His tone was gruff, as if he were dealing with an unruly soldier. "We're here to save you, so straighten up." He wasn't trying to be cruel to the poor, battered teen in front of him; in situations like this, all he knew to do was give orders. But Al stopped and looked up at him. The once vibrant hazel eyes that had always conveyed so much innocence and happiness before were dull and scared.
"Help me," he said in a small voice before collapsing into Roy's arms.
.
"They captured us just so they could torture us," the young woman said. She was the one who had told them Al was still in the building and she was currently the only one captured still conscious to tell them what happened. "None of us have any good connections in the military, so they weren't ever going to use us for ransom. Those… monsters just kept us tied together until they got bored and felt like beating one of us." The woman shuddered. "But… they really had an interest in Alphonse." She looked up at Roy. "You know that boy you went after is the Fullmetal Alchemist's little brother, right?" Roy nodded. "Those fiends knew it too. They kept trying to get information out of him about the military. God, he's just a kid and… they hurt him so bad. They… I was only there for a week or two and they did horrible things to him. And they had him months before they kidnapped me. It got really bad toward the end. They were scared the military was going to find them and they got rougher. Al's been throwing up every day since they captured me. Al tried to help some of us escape but we got caught. I heard he'd tried it once before and that's when they'd stated to hurt him really bad."
"Did you ever overhear any plans they had, where they were going next?" Hawkeye asked calmly.
The woman shook her head. "No. They kept us in that room for the most part. But Al might have heard something… they always dragged him off to another room and they left him there alone a lot… after they were done."
Roy nodded and began to walk out of the room.
"Wait, sir," the woman said. "You found Alphonse, right? Is he alright? Well, I know he's not but he's alive, right?"
"Yes, he's alive," Roy said curtly. "I'm going to see how he's doing."
"Oh, thank God," the woman sighed. "Can I go-"
"No," Roy interrupted. "Stay here and finish the questioning." He turned and shut the door behind him, not even bothering to listen to the woman's complaints.
He walked briskly down the hall, heading for the medical wing. He grabbed the shoulder of a nearby nurse and asked for the doctor looking after Al. She pointed to a nearby room. "He just finished with the poor kid. He should be in his office."
Roy nodded and gave her a grateful smile. He approached the office door, glancing at the small plaque with the doctor's name on it. Doctor Richard Gellar.
Oh, that doctor, Roy thought. He knew Al was in the highly capable hands of one of the best doctors in Amestris (he himself had been treated plenty of times by the man during Ishbal). The doctor wasn't a state alchemist but he was the finest in medical alchemy. Roy felt a small bit of hope that Al would be all right. With a quick knock on the door, Roy entered the office.
Gellar looked up from a folder in his hands. Roy noted with some amusement that the man was mostly bald even though he was only a few years older than Roy. The doctor's eyebrows lifted in surprise as he watched Roy approach his desk.
"Hello, Dr. Richie," Roy said, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
"Well if it isn't Malady Mustang," Gellar teased, closing the folder and putting it down. "Haven't seen you in a few years. Of course, I probably saw enough of you in Ishbal to make up for that. So, tried to get yourself killed again?"
"Not lately," Roy said. He sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. He tried to look at the name on the folder as subtly as he could. He was pretty sure it was Al's judging by the first three letters on the label he was able to read around Gellar's arm.
"I heard you took out the fuhrer." Gellar moved the file, his own subtle message to Mustang to quit trying. "Still sticking your neck out, aren't you." He grinned.
"How is Al?" Roy asked, tiring quickly of the friendly banter. He had far more imperative things to do than chat with an old friend.
"Always quick to get to the point," Gellar said, sitting back in his chair and pulling the file back with him. His face retained the mask of cheer but his eyes didn't match the sentiment. "He's definitely better than when you brought him in a few hours ago. OF course, that's not really saying much. He's malnourished, dehydrated, and anemic." Gellar began leafing through the pages of the file. "His left arm is broken in two places along with a couple fingers on both hands. There's a large wound on his left wrist that's become infected. If we can't get that under control we may have to amputate the hand." Gellar looked up at Roy, registering the look on the general's face. Roy's face was smooth as he nodded; he'd always been good at putting up a stoic mask. "He's covered in bruises, cuts, and a few burns, but the worst of it is definitely his left arm… There was also a good deal of anal tearing… from sexual assault."
Roy stiffened, his mask cracking. "Those bastards," he hissed under his breath. They had raped Al. Gentle, innocent, kind little Alphonse had been hurt in the worst way possible. That's why the poor kid had looked so… lifeless.
"We've run some tests to see he might have picked up any diseases from it," Gellar continued. He sighed, idly shuffling the papers back into an organized pile in his lap.
"There's more, isn't there," Roy asked, interpreting the meaning behind the awkward silence.
Gellar nodded slowly. "I want you to know that I'm only telling you this bit of information because I have to. You're the commanding officer of this mission and to keep my job I have to tell you everything I find out. But I know you're a friend of Alphonse and I trust you not to sell him out to the brass."
"What's so wrong with him that we need to hide it from the fuhrer?" Roy asked, a hint of worry marring his voice.
"Well… this is going to sound completely crazy… but it is true and one hundred percent verifiable… you probably won't-"
"Just tell me," Roy interrupted. Gellar looked him squarely in the eye.
"Very well. Alphonse Elric is pregnant."
Roy stared blankly at the man he had once considered to be the sanest man he'd ever met. Now he was beginning to question that. "That is a sick joke, Gellar."
"I wish it were just that," Gellar said grimly. "But it's true, just as I told you. While we searched for any other injuries, I came across an obstruction in his lower abdomen. It's a uterus, General, and I'm sure there's a fetus in there. He's been pregnant long enough for that to be easy to tell, even without the use of alchemy."
"Y-you're serious." Roy slumped back in his chair.
"Completely." Gellar sighed. "I have no idea where the uterus came from or how it got there because I know he wasn't born with it. I found another person's DNA mixed with his own while I tried to figure out what the hell was inside him."
"This is crazy," Roy murmured. "Impossible."
"But it's real," Gellar said. "And I'm sure you know it will end badly for both Al and the baby if the wrong people were to find out."
Roy nodded, covering his eyes with his hand. Dammit, this couldn't be happening. It was impossible to think of sweet Al being kidnapped, tortured, even raped but for him to wind up pregnant because of it…
Roy was at a loss. It shouldn't be possible but obviously something had altered his body when it had been lost. "Does anyone else know about this?" he finally asked.
"Just me and the nurse that's looking after Al," Gellar replied. "And neither of us will tell anyone about this. We're here to save lives, not destroy them."
Roy stared blankly at his feet as he remembered the same words coming from a younger doctor's mouth moments before he was killed by the alchemist's own hands. "So what do we do?"
"For now, nothing," Gellar responded, putting the folder back on his desk. "We need to wait for Al to recover more before we tell him anything. I want him to be stable and not on so many medications before he has to make any life changing decisions."
"Can't you do anything about this?" Roy asked, looking up. "Get it out of him or something?"
"Like an abortion?" Roy nodded. Gellar shook his head. "That's for Al to decide. I won't kill the baby if that's not what he wants. Al has to come to grips that he is carrying a life inside him. But if he can't and it's too much for him to deal with, I will terminate the pregnancy."
Roy exhaled through his nose. "Thanks, Richie."
.
Unconcious, bandaged, and hooked up to a few machines, Al looked extremely vulnerable. The rebels had cut his hair and they had obviously done so to hurt him. Patches of his hair had been nearly ripped out and the now covered cuts in his scalp gave testament to the brutality of the act. His left forearm was completely bandaged and bound tightly to his chest in a sling. He looked small under the white hospital sheets. His face was calm as he slept peacefully. Roy stood beside the bed, looking down at Al like he had been doing for almost half an hour, speculating what kind of damnable world would allow such an innocent kid to be in this situation.
Roy resisted the urge to brush the ragged bangs from Al's face. It was hard for him not to want to protect the boy. Seeing someone who was always so strong and alive look so weak and broken stirred feeling in him that he didn't feel very often. He wanted to protect Al, to do whatever he could to make sure the poor kid was never hurt again. He'd only ever felt that around Maes and his trusted subordinates.
"General?" Roy looked over his shoulder to see Riza standing behind him, Her brown eyes looked at him anxiously. "Is he ok?"
"He's fine," Roy said, looking back down at Al. "He'll make it. He's strong."
"Are you ok, sir?" Riza put a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't worry about me," He said, gently shrugging off the sign of comfort. "We've got more important things to think about." Like tracking down the rebel leader who had managed to escape and reporting all that had happened to their superiors. Like figuring out what to do about the pregnant teenage boy in front of him who would be waking up in just a few hours.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o
A/N: Please review... that's all I get out of this TT_TT