DISCLAIMER: FMA is not mine, otherwise Ed and Roy would have been a couple for a long time...and Mustang wouldn't be so...put-together. I mean, everyone's gotta have a character flaw, right?

This is Anij, I'm in actually a solemn mood for once...let's see how this goes. No flames, please, don't like, don't read. This is yaoi...

Warnings: Yaoi, possibly rated M for a reason later on, some OOC, language, etc..

If this is any good please tell me..I can write decent one-shots but this is my first attempt at an actual plot line with romance like this... Sorry for my pathetic attempts just wanted to write something for once.

Yavie has nothing to do with this, just for the record, the other twin sharing this account hates yaoi. Hee.

Read and review, please.

Chapter One
Tourniquet of Tears
Bleeding World

I'm lonely, but I've always been. I can feel the heartless beat of the cool rain as it smothers my soul. They're tears. The raindrops that can destroy like this are tears. The love that I hold will always be there. But...I'm sorry for these feelings. I never wanted to be like this...but now the rain symbolizes the tears I will never shed. Never be able to shed. It's almost funny, how much I used to see tears and think of them as a weakness. Now I know it's a strength, to be able to confront yourself. And now, while everyone sees me and thinks of how strong I am...I'm not. And the rain keeps pounding.

The man stared out the window, hearing the rain, feeling each droplet on his heart. His hand groped instinctively for something that wasn't there, his eyes seeing things that could never again be seen. In the reverie, his lips parted and a cry escaped from him. But the sound wasn't there; it was all in his mind.

The child fell in front of him, crying and terrified. Clutching a gun close to his chest, the panicked face of the soldier, no more that 12 or 13 years old, stared up at him. His hand was poised, ready to release the flames that could be brought about with only a snap. The young officer paused, haunted by the child's eyes. In that second, the child raised the gun to the alchemist and would have shot had last-second reflexes not kicked in.

The child's shrieks of pain as the red flames licked at his charred body rang through the air, mingling with the people's cries of sadness.

Edward Elric trudged forward in the rain. He loathed the rain. It made his automail rust, squeak, and hurt to use.

"Brother?" Alphonse asked quietly, reaching out to his brother's flesh arm and placing his hand there, on the shoulder. Ever since he had gotten his body back, he had been made a lot more sensitive to his brother's moods.

"It's nothing, Al," Ed sighed, for the first time showing a hint of maturity. Then, as quickly as the maturity was there, it was gone. "I have to go make my report to Colonel Bastard," he said, now mimicking the Colonel's voice and doing a relatively good job of it. "Oh, sorry about that, I couldn't see you under my paperwork. It's amazing how the military has use for a shrimp like you..oh, that's right, you make a good spy since you pass as a little kid. Want to get something to eat? I'll be back here when you do, bring me your kid's menu from wherever you're going, those things are fun to colour," Ed ranted, getting odd looks from the people on the streets at Central.

"You don't need to leave to give your report until later, Onii-chan," Al remarked, dragging the older Elric along. Finally reaching the military apartments, he noticed a familiar blonde. "Hello, Lieutenant Hawkeye!" he called cheerfully, waiting for the officer to turn around.

"Hello Al, Edo-chan. Come back to make a report?" she asked, aptly guessing from Ed's state of mind at the moment.

"Maybe later," Ed growled, "like never..."

"Colonel Mustang had said that he would be working until about 10 tonight," she remarked helpfully. Though all of them knew it was only under pain of death by Hawkeye's gun. Thanking the Lieutenant, Al shoved his brother into their quarters for a shower and probably a little rest before his report.

"Hey, Colonel?" came Havoc's voice.

"Yes, Havoc?" the Colonel responded as Jean Havoc came through the door, a stack of paperwork in his hands.

"Courtesy of Hawkeye," the tall man said, smiling.

"Thank you. You may go now, Lieutenant," Roy acknowledged. As the man left, closing the door, Roy turned his chair back to the window, the rain coming down even harder.

"State Alchemist Marcoh has gone missing," said Fuhrer President Bradley, steel glinting in his eyes. "I expect anyone who sees the deserter to strike him down immediately. Dismissed." Of course, all the alchemists left with the order in mind. Marcoh was healing the enemy, therefore had to be taken down.

It had been days later that Mustang had seen the fleeing alchemist. When Marcoh finally saw the younger officer, he paused, speaking only after he was sure that he had been caught. The words he had said next would always be remembered.

"I suppose you're here to kill me, aren't you?"

The weary voice of his former comrade shocked him. Bowing his head, he simply turned around and continued down the alleyway as if he had never seen the man. Marcoh realized the blessing for what it was and escaped.

Al was busy playing with the newly-dried kitten he had found while the older Elric was in the shower. He knew Ed wouldn't let him keep it, but it was so cute... the little cat jumped up from his lap as the bathroom door opened and Edward emerged, wearing only his boxers. Failing to conceal the pain he was in from his automail, he limped lightly over to his room to get changed, so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice the small feline critter.

Dressing in a black tank top and black leather pants, Ed only needed his red coat to look normal, but since it was raining, he decided that he didn't want to get the burgundy coat wet. It was about seven o'clock already, and the rain picked up again. Sighing, he began the process of braiding his long blonde hair and selected a black coat from his closet. Putting his boots on, he left his room and nearly tripped over the small orange ball of fluff at his feet. Mewing softly, it irked him to no end.

"Al!" he yelled, bringing his younger brother running to the entryway. "Get rid of it!"

"But brother, it's raining outside, and it looked hungry!" Ed rolled his eyes at this. Typical Al.

"We don't have the time to care for it, Al," he muttered, purposely not looking into his brother's eyes. One look and—too late. "Oh alright, we can keep it until it stops raining and then it goes. Understand?" Al didn't even answer, he was too busy petting the cat. "C'mon Al, we've gotta get something to eat, I'm starving." Happy that his brother's spirits had lightened, Al followed the state alchemist out the door, leaving the kitten with a dish of milk.

The rain outside was pouring now. An ambulance's sirens came to his ears as the vehicle rushed to the scene of an emergency.

Sirens. Mythical heralds of bad luck, beautiful women who could call any man to their deathbed. But now... Sirens, the bells that called the alchemists and soldiers to war against the innocents. Innocent faces...Women, men, children, mother, fathers, babies, lovers, friends, all in the name of justice and freedom. Corrupted justice and freedom. Why did it ever have to happen?

Inside the window, away from the rain, a single tear ran down Roy Mustang's cheek. The dark eyes blinked once, still caught in the vision of the haunting reverie.

The clock inside HQ struck eight, most people already gone from the offices.

"Brother?" Al asked again, a bitt hurredly.

"What, Al?" Edward asked, finished stuffing his face with food.

"It's eight thirty, Onii-chan. You need to make your report to Mustang really soon."

"I know, I know," he muttered, sinking back into his chair and not even bothering to glance in the direction of the window to his left. It would still be raining, and that bastard up in HQ would be laughing about Ed's height. Paying for the bill, he left the small restaurant, dreading the time to come. "See you at home, Al," he sighed, taking the road which led to HQ and away from the apartments.

By now, there was nothing Mustang could or would do to make himself feel better. He was crying, and sadness had overcome even his strong facade. His hands to his forehead, he slumped in exhaustion and depression on his desk.

The knife he had used was now discarded on his desk, droplets of his own blood spotting the blade, his shredded left sleeve edged with the crimson fluid. The deep slashes he had left in the hope of feeling better had done almost nothing...there wasn't anything that would ever bring him relief.

Remembering the Ishbal War, all the children and their blood on his hands, he felt a wave of self-loathing come over him. The rain wasn't his friend either; it just opened all of his emotional floodgates. Shaking, he reached down to a drawer in his desk, unlocking it and pulling out the contents, feeling the cold power of what he held. Pointing the gun right underneath his chin, he cried once more, not for himself, but for the love he was to lose, and the lives this single weapon had already stolen. It was fitting that his would be the last.

The Fullmetal Alchemist entered HQ, seeing the lights partially darkened. It figured, Al had told him that everyone would have gone home by now. Climbing up the metal stairs, he reached the fourth floor, where Mustang's office was. The entire group of his worked here most of the time.

Walking down the corridor, he found the office he was looking for. Even before he opened the door, he noticed that the lights were off. But nothing could have completely prepared him for what he saw as he opened the door.

"I'm here to make my report, Colonel Bast—" he paused mid-word, seeing Mustang crying, a gun at his chin, his hand on the trigger. A small army-manufactured knife lay open on the desk, spots of blood visible on the light metal. The lower left sleeve of the Colonel was torn and cut open, with deep cuts obvious to anyone who would look.

He blinked once, twice, then again. The scene in front of him solidifed through the tears, and he saw the childlike figure of Edward Elric in front of him just in time to hear the horrified whisper.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Mustang simply closed his eyes again, letting the tears keep falling.

"Mustang--" Ed said, shaking his head. That didn't sound right to comfort anyone. "Roy...give me the gun, now," he ordered, trying to sound firm and commanding when on the inside he was scared. Scared to see this man, usually so put together, trying to kill himself. The adult opened his red eyes and weakly handed the gun to the Elric. Taped to the gun was a small paper, written in the handwriting of the Colonel, though it was shaky and hard to read.

I'm sorry, all. Tell Edward Elric that I'm sorry, please.

"Roy..?" he asked, more scared than ever. Did the Colonel...no. He couldn't. There were more important things to worry about. The older man was sitting in his chair, trying to dry his darkened eyes.

"What, Fullmetal?" he snapped, immediately regretting it, seeing the teenager's face fall a little.

"Why...why would you do something like that?" he demanded, a little calmer. Finally moving to where Mustang sat, he shook off his nervousness and exhaustion and straddled the older man in order to sit down. "Roy...don't do that...please. Once you die, your life is gone. There's no fixing the mistake you made. Please?" he begged, starting to cry himself. When Mustang didn't answer, he pressed his lips gently to the older man's and whispered it one more time.

"Please?"

Cliffie. Hah. Sorry...I'll be done with the next chappy too..I hope this was as emotional for you as it was for me, because it's a rainy day here and all.

Anyway, review and confirm my belief that I cannot write these things to save my life. I know, I know...it sucks.

-Anij Jinn