Title: Redemption

Fandom: FMA

Pairings: Elricest, Scar/Al

Rating: NC 17
Warnings: Incest, yaoi

Author's Notes: AU, eventual OC

More Notes: In lieu of my irritating block, I dug up, dusted off, and fiddled with this story. I wrote it, yea gods, forever ago, but with a little sprucing, I hope you enjoy it. I mean to add Sam, oh yeah, my beloved Sam, to the mix as the attorney who will defend Scar. What do you think? Perhaps Ed will find his own redemption with him.

Disclaimer: Have you seen a flyring pig lately? No? Then nope.

Summary: Following the heartbreak of an one sided incestuous relationship, Al learns to forget his shame, and a haunted, hunted criminal learns to live again in the pearly dawn of redeeming love.

Redemption

Chapter 1

His hand on the doorknob Alphonse heard the words sink into in suddenly frozen consciousness with leaden finality.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," Edward was saying in Mustang's office, his voice low and stricken. "I love him, I do. And I owe him this, no matter what I want. I owe him everything for what I put him through."

"But Fullmetal," Mustang said patiently, his voice laced with pity, "don't you think it would horrify your brother to know you make love with him out of obligation, not because you desire him? Don't you think that would hurt him?"

"He'll never know. I'll make sure he never finds out…." Ed's words halted in mid sentence.

Al didn't even realize he'd made a sound, still frozen in shock.

The door was flung open, and Ed's face turned ashen to see his little brother's face so… agonized with shame and grief. "Al…." he said, hoping vainly that it was something else that had brought that look to Al's face. "Al." He reached out, and felt sick when Al recoiled.

"Niisan… you… we… Oh, God!" Al dropped his precious burden and turned and fled.

"Al, wait!" Ed cried, and stumbled forward, his pursuit of his brother halted by the debris at his feet. Numbly, Ed looked down and saw that the delicate bamboo box Al had so lovingly crafted and filled with treats had shattered to slivers when the younger boy had dropped it, cookies and snacks and tidbits scattered and now half crushed by Ed's foot. Rather like Al's heart, the older boy thought frantically. He was barely conscious of Mustang's shadow behind him, staring down at the broken shards as Ed ran wildly after his wounded brother.

"Oh, Alphonse," Mustang whispered softly, unable to conceive of the pain the younger Elric must be feeling right now. And he was afraid of what it would mean for the two boys he loved so much. Silently, he went to his knees and tenderly gathered up every bit of wood and cloth. The food he swept up later and disposed of, but he had a sinking presentiment that this shattered labor of love would be the last thing he saw of Alphonse for a very long time.

Mustang remained at his office almost half the night. And then finally, when dawn was streaking the east with the shades of gold and rose that Al so loved to watch the phone finally rang and woke the General from his doze. He'd been right. Alphonse Elric was gone.

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Edward was almost hysterical. A week had passed, and still there was no sign of Alphonse. Quietly, Mustang put out an APB for the missing boy, but Al was an Elric, and he was not surprised when not a single trace of him turned up. The days had slowly turned to weeks, and then to months. And the Fullmetal Alchemist was worthless to the military now. He spent his days and nights ranging the countryside, searching for his missing brother. When Al had run out of the office that day, he never went back home. Everything the boy had and loved still sat exactly where he'd left them. Al had run off into the big and lonely world with absolutely nothing but the clothes on his back. Every once in a while, Ed would pause in his endless and fruitless pursuit to return to the home that Mustang made sure was paid for out of his own pocket, to touch the things that Al had once loved so much, and fall into the bed they had shared, which by now no longer carried even a hint of Al's scent, and weep hopelessly.

Ed came back when a year had passed, and froze in the doorway of the little house he'd shared with his brother. Since the day that Al had left, he'd permitted nothing to be moved. Now, he stared into an empty and freshly cleaned space. Everything was gone. He was barely cognizant of Mustang standing by the window, turning to face him with a grim expression. When Ed exploded into furious screams and launched himself at his superior, Mustang fended the enraged alchemist off far easier than he had anticipated. Ed was but an emaciated hollow shell of his former self. The months of desperate travel had taken its toll. The last thing Ed remembered was the look of sad pity on Mustang's face as everything went dark.

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Far, far away, Scar turned from the book he was pondering to stare at the young boy sitting in a window seat, eyes staring off into the distance sightlessly, and sighed. It had been almost a year since he finally found the boy filthy, shivering and half dead from illness deep in the bowels of Central's underground waterways. Since waking half dead himself in the burning sands of what little remained of Lior, and after he recovered, of course, he made it his life's goal to find the armored boy who had somehow come to mean so much to him. All his desires of bloodshed and vengeance had been purged in the mass murder of so many Amestrian military in the creation of the philosopher's stone, and at first he'd been lost as to what he would do. For so long his burning revenge had been all that he had. But then he'd remembered Alphonse Elric; that impossibly pure and innocent soul bound in armor, and had wondered what became of him. It had taken him a very long time to find him, and then, he finally saw him.

Tall, slim almost to skinniness, his burnished shock of honey blonde hair a beacon the man could find in any crowd, no matter how numerous, the soft and luminous and incredibly beautiful bronze eyes. And nothing had changed. He was still pure, still kind and even more angelic now that he was in his rightful body. He would never forget the first sight of the boy, smiling shyly as his brother towed him up the stairs to the little house they'd shared. And something in his heart had been pierced. He'd seen the boy, now he could get on with his life, or afterlife, or whatever it was that the capricious Ishballa had granted him. But he couldn't leave. He lingered in Central, carefully disguised, and watched the boy whenever possible. He found out early on that the Elric brother's were lovers, and was stunned by the shaft of jealous rage he felt ever time he saw Edward. Likewise, he'd been on hand to see Alphonse run out of HQ in stricken tears. Concerned, he'd followed the boy, but lost him in the lunchtime throng. Expecting him to go home, Scar went there and waited… and waited… and waited. He saw Edward arrive frantically, saw him run in and out of the house several times throughout the endless night. And so he was on hand, standing very close to the open window of the den when Ed finally called his superior and sobbed about how Al had heard that he didn't want him, and had only been making love to his brother out of misguided pity and love, not mutual desire, and that he couldn't find him. And Scar's loathing of Edward grew to even greater heights. How could that boy have thought he could hide such a thing from his little brother? Unlike most people, even Ed apparently, Scar had never been misled by the gentle soul locked in massive armor. Al was not stupid, nor was he blind. He was real, he was human, and he loved and yearned and thought and dreamed. And he was amazingly quick and clever, with an agile mind that sometimes staggered the Ishballan. Knowing what he did now, it was only a matter of time before Alphonse figured out that Edward didn't love him like he did his brother, only a matter of time before the younger boy figured out what his older brother was doing. To a man in love, a mercy fuck was a terrible, life-changing blow. Especially when it came from the object of your desire. And to learn about it by overhearing your beloved whine about it to his superior officer had to be heaping insult on top of injury on the younger Elric's tender soul. Scar knew that Al had to be crushed to his very foundations. He instinctively knew that Alphonse would never return to this little house, or to his brother. Scar left that house even before Ed hung up, and never returned himself.

Less than a week later, he found the boy huddled miserable and sick in the fetid waters below Central, paralyzed by grief and horror and shame even still. He'd fought the Ishballan weakly, not even recognizing the man in his feverish delirium. But Scar was inflexible. He took Al far away, and nursed him back to health. And knew that he was in love.

Flashback

Al came awake slowly, the ever-present misery and sickness almost comforting for a change. Feeling warm and dry and cozy, he rolled onto his back and froze. Something wasn't right. Blinking crusty eyes, he looked vaguely up at a darkly paneled ceiling. Instead of the familiar and constant drip of water, there was the soft crackle of a hearth fire. And he really was cozy and dry. There was a soft mattress below his back and a fluffy blanket over his body. Dread permeated his entire being. Had Ed found him? He struggled to sit up, filled with anguish.

There were large warm hands on his shoulders, urging him to lie back, but he struggled instinctively. "No…" Al croaked, his voice hoarse from wracking coughs. "Niisan, let me go. Let me go."

"Shhh… Alphonse, it's alright. Your brother's not here. Shhh…"

It took a moment for everything to filter through Al's panic. Though there was something vaguely familiar about the voice, the warmth of those hands and the scent of whomever was touching him was completely foreign. Only the knowledge that it wasn't Ed calmed him down, and that in itself made his heart ache more. There was the sound of trickling water, very different from the constant drip he was accustomed to, and then a warm wet cloth was gently cleaning his eyes. Blinking furiously afterwards, a face finally swam into focus. It took a moment for his still fevered brain to assimilate that face, and then another for the boy to decide whether or not he was hallucinating.

"Scar?"

For the first time, Al saw those pale, mobile lips shift from a thin stern line to a gentle smile. "Hello, Alphonse Elric."

"Scar!" Al's voice creaked and this time when he tried to sit up, the man helped him.

To Scar's surprise, the boy threw his thin arms around his neck and pressed his fever hot cheek against his own as well. The boy was throwing off as much heat as a furnace.

"I… I thought you were dead," they boy whispered thickly, and the Ishballan felt hot tears against his face.

"So did I," Scar whispered, touched to know his 'death' had affected Al so much. "But I'm not, and neither are you. I want to keep things this way. I'm right here with you, so won't you lie back down, Alphonse? You're a very sick young man."

Al wanted to argue about laying back down. Scar was alive and here! How he'd grieved for the man when he'd heard the Ishballan had died. But he'd done so silently. Naturally, Ed had not understood, so Al had to keep it all inside. But the truth of Scar's words kept him from struggling. Already his eyes were growing heavy. So heavy he could barely drink the cup of cool water Scar was holding to his lips. And then he fell asleep once more, comforted by the strong arms so firmly around his body.

End flashback

It took a long time for Alphonse to recover. His mental pain increased his suffering, almost as if the boy had been seeking death, which Scar believed. He wanted to tell Al that he knew, that he commiserated, but the boy had been dealt a serious enough blow by his brother's actions. What little pride he had left would be devastated if he realized that Scar knew about his abject humiliation and grief. All the Ishballan could do was wait and hope that perhaps someday the boy would confide in him. Hope and pray because with every passing day, Scar fell a little bit more in love with the boy until the idea of holding him, kissing him, making love with him began to encompass his waking thoughts by day and haunt his dreams by night. In the reed slim, beautiful, purity that was Alphonse, Scar found his reason for going on.

But though the boy was physically affectionate with him, because such was his nature, Al never allowed that line to be crossed. The hugs never turned to embraces, the occasional pecks on the cheeks never turned into kisses, and the nights of cuddling never turned into lovemaking. Part of Scar was convinced that Al had begun to look at him the same, but Al always held back. The sweet and shy looks would turn to fear and he would huddle in on himself, sometimes for days. And so the days blended into weeks, and then into months. And like Edward before him, Scar couldn't help but indulge the boy in his newfound senses, watching with delight as his attentions finally pulled the boy from his gloom, and made him smile and then laugh.