A/N: T to M rating, for subject topic.
Timeline setting: Ed's 17, but is still rather short (5'3"-5'5"-giving puberty a little chance here) and wears his signature attire. However, anywhere within the verse.
Summary: Edward has not shown up to work for more than a week. He ignores any form of contact, until he's forced to face Roy. What was assumed to be another stubborn act of insubordination, turns out to be something far worse, and Ed seems to lost within the whirlwind of dangerous thoughts invading his mind. Warning: contains self-harm, and other sensitive subjects. Parental!Roy.
Warning: This story contains self-harm,other sensitive topic that can trigger, and a half assed yet thought out plot (but it's there), having been created with the need to write angst.
Note: This is another fic in which it reels from past to current in a rather fluid motion. Just in case you find yourself suddenly confused.
"Edward!" Roy growled through clenched teeth as he fought to keep his restraint of the boy, fingers laced against the teen's stomach.
However, the boy would not stop struggling, desperately reaching out, with his single flesh arm, for the abandoned razor across the room. "No!" Ed yelled in response through a string of incoherent babbling. His golden eyes were wild, animalistic, as tears ran down his flushed cheeks.
Roy glanced over to his right, spotting the torn automail arm near the bedroom door.
It had been a dangerous fight, and through years of control, Roy managed to keep himself from fashioning his ignition gloves as Edward practically ran into him, armed with a razor box cutter.
Because the boy was not responding to calls, letters, or opening his door to any low ranking militia officer, after days of silence, Roy thought it only appropriate (while fuming) to pay his subordinate a very angry visit. He had even prepared a speech of a lecture once he got to Edward's quarters, even if that meant blowing down the door to get in.
Not having been the only one concerned, Armstrong and Hawkeye had tagged along; however, she had to remain outside, having no legal permission to enter the male dormitory building.
Fortunately, there was no exchanging of insults with a wooden barrier in between, because as soon as Roy announced who it was knocking, Edward (half a minute later) had answered, peeking up through the ajar door.
Roy glared down at him, and huffing through his nose, he slapped his bare hand against the wooden face, and started pushing despite Edward's slight resistance. Words weren't exchanged, and although the teen was rather strong, he seemed to give up in pushing back as the door opened further; the blond stumbling back into the dark of his room, his slow and steady legs moving as he took steps further inside, away from Roy and Armstrong.
With calculated militant steps, Roy walked in, Armstrong only a few strides behind him, as they both glanced around the dark room before watching the silent teen. Roy took in a breath, arms crossed behind him, and he glared towards his subordinate. "Mind telling me where the hell you've been for the past week?" He asked, voice low and threatening.
Edward, however, only flinched, backing further away from them, his breathing loud and shaky.
Armstrong rested his large hand atop Roy's shoulder (who glanced towards it), and leaned in, his usually bellowing voice now hushed. "Colonel Mustang, does the boy seemed… Frightened, to you?" He asked, his beady blue eyes staring towards the teen.
Roy's eyes lifted to look at the shaking alchemist, who suddenly staggered slightly, swaying in place. "Fullmetal, I asked you a question." He continued, seemingly ignoring Armstrong. Taking a step forward, he pressed on. "You have no idea how much trouble you've caused with your absence. Your lack of attendance is unprofessional, and you being my subordinate means I have to hear an earful of-" His rant came to a full stop when his boot audibly squeaked against something wet.
Confused, Roy had looked down to his feet, the tip of hit boot grinding against the spot as if to make certain that he wasn't just hearing things. The squeak was loud within the suddenly silent room, and managing his balance, Roy lifted his foot at an angle, looking to the sole of his shoe, and then towards the ground, eyes focusing on a dark shade through narrowed slits.
Catching on, Armstrong sidestepped to look down towards whatever Roy had stepped on, and the sudden curtain of light from the hallway illuminated the spot just enough to make out what it was.
On high alert, Roy looked up, brows furrowed, eyes somewhat wide yet still glaring. "Fullmetal," He started, taking another step forward, only resulting with the teen taking one back. Roy looked down, noticing how the large droplets seem to trail towards the young alchemist, panic blooming in his chest as his gut instinct started to take control of his emotions. "Are you injured?" He asked, nearing the boy who only kept backing away. "Did someone hurt you?" Roy asked after more silence. "Is that why you haven't come in to work?" Though the questions were of concern, the tone was still laced with impatience.
Despite his thoughts being focused on the possibility of an attacker, Edward's lack of response only furthered the unsettling sensation coursing through him.
Finally, after Ed was practically backed into the wall, did Roy reach him. Though it was dark, the older man could see the outline of the short teen as the light from the window to their side filtered at an upward angle, bouncing off the ceiling.
"Fullmetal, if you're hurt-… If you've been hurt for the amount of your absence, and the wound is still bleeding, then you need to get it looked at." Roy stated, his demanding tone laced with concern for the mute boy.
Edward slowly shook his head in response, then figuring that his guest couldn't see him, spoke in a near whisper, voice raspy. "No…" Was all he said, pushing himself against the wall. "No hospitals. No doctors." He continued, though it sounded like a sleepy mantra.
Roy looked over his shoulder towards Armstrong, who stood stock still in place, with an almost pleading expression. In this moment, Roy would usually shout and demand that the teen stop acting like a stubborn child, but the young alchemists wavering, raspy, monotonous voice meant that losing his temper would only make matters worse. In these moments he would have side-stepped to allow Hughes to intervene, however Armstrong was with him now, and the large wall of a man was just as capable of expression compassion when he wasn't being annoying.
Just as Roy was about to silently mouth his plea, he noticed Armstrong's eyes widen.
The large man leaned forward, suddenly alert. "Mustang, knife!" He yelled, rushing over as Roy (without hesitation) jumped away from the teen.
With a sudden feral expression, Ed was in a defensive stance, glaring at his superior officer, the razor knife in hand and pointed towards Roy's neck.
Armstrong was quick to act, shoving a confused Roy further back and standing in between them, his spiked steel gauntlets quickly in place, blocking the knife as it shot out in attempts to strike flesh. "Edward, boy!" Armstrong shouted as Ed kept hacking, trying to hurt the taller man. "Come to your senses! I will not strike back!"
"Fullmetal, stop!" Roy shouted over the sudden chaos, watching as Armstrong kept backing away while the teen further slashed the air, occasionally hitting against the spiked knuckles adorning the gauntlets. "Damn it," He muttered under his breath as he neared the two, hoping that he could grab the boy as he was focused on Armstrong. However, he was mistaken. "I said, stop!"
After years of training, Edward was highly combat efficient. Assuming that his focus on the taller man meant that he was distracted, was stupid in itself. As soon as Roy was within sight, Edward had turned on his heel and slashed in his superior officer's direction.
With a hiss of pain, Roy stumbled back, gripping at his upper arm. The razor had managed to cut through his ensemble of uniform, the layers visible and soaked in red. Roy's grip tightened as he tried to staunch the bleeding, glaring up at the teen.
Without considering patience and words as a better course of action, Armstrong acted. "I apologize in advance, Edward!" He shouted as he threw his hand out, gripping Edward's automail arm and, without hesitation, pulling it up.
With a yell, Edward stopped slashing, stumbling back, face pinched with pain at the sudden tug against his ports. "Let go of me! Don't-" He growled. "Touch me!" He demanded, his flesh hand reaching up.
That's when Roy spotted the source of the blood, as if ran down towards the teens elbow. He knew what was going to happen, and quickly, he looked towards the taller man. "Armstrong! He's going to clap!" He yelled, words rushed.
Upon hearing the warning, Armstrong further pulled the arm away and towards him, knows knotted in remorse upon hearing the teen yell out in more pain.
Fighting back, Edward squirmed, glaring. "Damn it, let go!" He yelled, further struggling. In what only seemed like a matter of milliseconds, Edward stilled in his fidgeting, posture suddenly serious as he grounded his heels, taking a step to face Armstrong.
Roy took a step forward, already knowing what the teen was trying to do. "Armstrong!"
The taller man, however, accustomed to hand-to-hand combat already knew what Edward was trying to achieve, and with another loud apology, he held out his other hand and managed to grasp Ed's flesh wrist before the clap was accomplished. "This is for the best." Armstrong muttered under his breath, voice laced with guilt, as he started to pull at Ed's automail arm.
Roy could only watch as he heard the ports scratching in protest, as the automail's forearm started to bend and break. Then, with a loud clatter of parts becoming undone, he stared as Armstrong pulled the prosthetic from Edward's body, tossing it aside.
The scream that tore from Edward's throat was undoubtedly heard throughout the building as he buckled from the pain, harshly landing on his knees, despite Armstrong's gentle grip. He was practically faint, and if it wasn't for the taller man's hold around his wrist, he would have surely fallen into a heap on the ground.
Ignoring his own wound, Roy glared towards Armstrong. "Damn it, what the hell was that-"
"Sir, I believe we have more concerning issues to attend to." Armstrong interrupted, motioning towards the boy's mutilated limb. "I do apologize for acting out of line, but had I not done what I just did, the boy would have done more harm to himself, and us."
Staring at the automail prosthetic near the door, Roy seemed to consider this for a moment, until he nodded to himself, looking down towards Ed. "Fullmetal…" He called out, hoping that the pain he had just experienced calmed him. He looked up towards Armstrong when no response came. "Do you think he's unconscious?"
Armstrong looked down towards the boy; face riddled in guilt as slowly lowered the teen into the ground. When Ed didn't slump over or fall upon letting go, Armstrong looked up to Roy and shook his head in response.
Roy looked back down towards the teen. "Fullmetal." He tried again, though his commanding tone fell upon deaf ears. Brows furrowing, Roy nodded to himself. "Fine then." He took a step forward. "If all you're going to do is ignore me, then I don't see why I should continue talking." He nodded towards Armstrong. "Go inform Lieutenant Hawkeye. He ordered, watching as the taller man nodded and walked out. Once the other had left, Roy returned his attention towards the teen. "So here's what going to happen. You're injured, and so we are taking you to a medical professional."
Edward visibly flinched, but didn't speak.
Ignoring the sign of discomfort, Roy continued. "After that, when your wound is tended to, we will talk about whatever the hell just happened here. Is that understood?"
A mumble of a response came from the teen, who refused to look up.
It was too incomprehensible, barely above a whisper. Roy decided to level with the boy if eye contact wasn't going to be exchanged. Bending and resting on one knee, the older man leaned in slightly. "I didn't catch that. Repeat your answer. Do you understand what I've just said?"
A near silent sigh came from Ed, and suddenly, without warning, he was moving. He looked up, glaring at Roy, and quickly closed the gap, bashing his forehead against his superior officer's nose.
In surprise, Roy reeled back, holding his bleeding nose, lids tightly screwed shut at the sudden pain radiating across his face. Opening one eye, he glared at the teen who looked away, practically crawling rather pathetically with the use of one arm.
For a moment, Roy wondered where the blond was headed, but upon spotting what sat in Ed's line of direction, he practically scurried against the wooden floor, crawling himself towards the teen. If he had decided to move a few seconds too late, Edward would have managed to obtain what he was headed for.
"Fullmetal!" Roy shouted, his arms wrapped around Ed, pulling him back against himself. "Stop it!" He demanded, but Edward kept struggling against him, reaching out for the razor blade.
However, the teen wasn't listening, babbling a string of incoherent words as he struggled to free himself from Roy. "Have to-.. The knife- need to-" He mumbled under his breath, wide golden eyes focused on the razor. His agitation grew, and suddenly he fought more, elbowing Roy and flexing his automail leg, trying to break free. "Let go of me! I- Let go! I need to do-" He stopped elbowing the older man, reaching out for the weapon again, fingers flexing. "End it- I need to…" He grunted out, his bloody hand gripping one of Roy's forearms, trying to push it away. "Please!"
In that moment, that broken plea confirmed Roy's suspicion, and immediately he further tightened his grip, mentally chastising himself for having sent off Armstrong.
"Get a grip of yourself, Fullmetal!" He ordered through his struggles, managing to keep the boy in place despite the strength of his automail leg. "I won't let you do this to yourself! You're a damn idiot if you think I'm going to let go!"
Roy's words didn't seem to reach him as the boy continued to struggle. At this point, Roy surmised that the wound on Ed's arm was actually more than singular. There must have been plenty to cause that amount of blood loss. However, the fact that it didn't seem to weaken Ed meant either that the teen was acting out of adrenaline and shock, or that those were hesitation marks.
The struggling only seemed to become more agitated, and Edward's incomprehensible pleas repetitive.
With a sudden force, Roy leaned back and pulled Ed with him. "Edward, listen to me-" But the boy reacted quickly, and leaned forward, his strength pulling Roy with him. "Edward!" Roy growled through clenched teeth as he fought to keep his restraint of the boy, fingers laced against the teen's stomach.
However, the boy would not stop struggling, desperately reaching out, with his single flesh arm, for the abandoned razor across the room. "No!" Ed yelled in response through a string of incoherent babbling. His golden eyes were wild, animalistic, as tears ran down his flushed cheeks.
Roy glanced over to his right, spotting the torn automail arm near the bedroom door. He didn't want it all to have resorted to such a brutish action, and the painful screaming that resulted from pulling it from Ed's socket was something he hoped to never hear again.
Just as his thoughts started to cloud his focus, he spotted both Armstrong and a flustered Hawkeye at the door, her usually controlled expression gaping in shock.
Sparing no time to explain, Roy glared at them. "A little help here?!" He rhetorically asked.
The two were quick to move, Riza rushing to kick the blade further away from the two on the ground, and Armstrong kneeling before Ed, his large hands gripping the teens shoulder, forcing him to stay down.
That's when Hawkeye looked to Roy. "Sir, you're injured-"
Certain that Armstrong had a more sturdy grip on Ed, who visibly deflated once the blade was far enough, Roy leaned back on his hands with a sigh. "No need to worry. It's not as bad as it seems." He looked to Ed, silent in his observation at the teen who seemed frozen in place. "Get him to the car. Lieutenant Hawkeye," She stood at attention. "Clean this up, and bring the automail arm with you." He grunted as he gathered himself to stand. "We wouldn't want Ms. Rockbell to be welcomed to this…" Pausing, he observed the room. "Mess…" He looked to her.
After a moment, realizing that Roy wouldn't continue in his order, she nodded. "Sir." She confirmed, and started towards the kitchen, perhaps to wet a rag and tend to the splotches of blood on the wooden paneling, hoping that it didn't soak through yet.
Roy nodded towards her, appreciating her lack of resistance or argument. "Armstrong and I will head towards Central Hospital." He further informed, watching as she did just as he predicted. "Once Fullmetal is admitted, Armstrong will return for you." He added, watching as she started to tend to a large splotch of blood. "Bring the arm- wouldn't want a random soldier to wander in and steal it or something."
Nodding, Riza continued her curt circles against the blood. "Sir." She responded in confirmation.
Looking towards Armstrong, Roy observed the mute and still teen for a moment longer, perhaps trying to mentally piece together what had just occurred. "Major Armstrong, it's time. Carry him out." He ordered, then headed for the exit, quickly striding down the hall and towards the stairs, wanting to get to the vehicle before the other two, knowing that he'd have to hold any door and help place Edward into the backseat.
With the task at hand, Roy used it as a distraction, knowing that if he focused on what had just transpired, he would lose any mental strength he depended on.
If he broke this weak grip on whatever focus he had managed, then he would undoubtedly lose face, and approach the teen with a load of questions he knew would go unanswered.
Therefore, Roy marched forward, his mind creating a rhythm from the sounds of his and Armstrong's steps towards the stairs, pushing currently unneeded thoughts as far back into his mind as he could.
He glanced towards the side, towards his shoulder, as if he could spot the two behind him, managing to run the loudest lingering question farther back into his mind, which beckoned and desired an answer, wanting to know as to why Edward had just tried to commit suicide.
A/N: So I was playing minecraft, and then this story happened.
I'm such angst trash.
Tell me what you think? Because I typed this so suddenly, and wanted to post right away before it became 6am, I didn't really look it over, so sorry for the typos (I will fix them if any). This'll be a multi-chapter story, which is very difficult for me to do, but let's see how it goes.