"Too late. I'm calling it a night." Ed announced as Roy stepped into his office, "I was supposed to be home like an hour ago. Whatever you've got assigned for me can wait for the morning."

"You have an interrogation to do." Roy insisted, "You have to do it now. You were due there almost two hours ago, so go. It's a murder case again."

"I was kind of busy with these." Ed replied, spreading his arms out to indicate the piles of paperwork on his desk, "Thanks to you I got stuck with all this."

Roy didn't doubt he'd been the cause of it. He was practically the cause of everything in Central. "Just go do the interrogation. Play some of those mind games you like so much. It'll be over before you know it."

"Oh, but Good Cop/Bad Cop is no fun when you're not around." Ed replied, "You know how much I love making you be Good Cop."

"And that's why we don't usually interrogate together. Besides, I have my own share of things to do around here. I've probably got overtime tonight."

"You do?"

"I have been for the past three days."

"Sucks for you." Ed replied, already ready to leave for the Interrogations Department. "Catch you later. After this, I'm out of here." Although he acted neutral about it, he wasn't happy. He just wanted to get this over with, go home, and get some sleep. He'd been working way too much lately. More than usual. Finally reaching the room he was supposed to be in, he met the supposed murderer face to face. He was tall, and he looked around a hundred and fifty pounds, all muscle. A really threatening type of guy.

"Thank God for handcuffs." Ed murmured under his breath, then cleared his throat. He realized he didn't know anything about the case. He knew he was forgetting something. He decided to just guess.

"Who are you?" The man demanded.

He sounds like a fucking rapist. Looks like one, too, now that I think about it. He almost smiled at the thought of how easy it was to stereotype these people. "I don't think you're in any position to talk to me like that." Ed replied strictly instead of laughing. "So, tell me, did you kill her?" He asked. He was playing straight up Bad Cop, no Good Cop today. He just wanted to get him to admit it and be done.

"It was a he." The man replied, "And no, I didn't."

"Yes, you did, and you know it." Ed pressed, his voice laced with anger. "Just get it over with and say that you did it." He knew his mind games were working.

"Fuck you." The man spat. "If you know I did it, why do you need me to admit to it?"

"You don't admit to this and I'll leave you here to fucking rot, you bastard."

"I have rights, officer."

"It's Alchemist, actually, and murderers don't have any rights."

The man stood up as best as he could while his handcuffs had him chained to the table by his wrist. He had to bend forward slightly, but he was standing nonetheless.

"Let me out of these fucking handcuffs!" He shouted.

"Talk any louder and I'll break your goddamn face!" Ed shouted back.

"This isn't legal!"

"What you did wasn't legal!"

"I didn't kill him!"

"Then who did?"

"I don't know; it wasn't me!"

"Then tell me who did it, because all the evidence points to you, and you'd better choose your next words carefully because there will be hell to pay if you don't."

To Ed's surprise, the man sighed and lowered his head, sitting back down, "Fine." He said, "Just take these handcuffs off me and I'll give up."

Ed considered it. "Fine." He replied reluctantly, taking a small key from his pocket and unlocking the handcuffs. Big mistake. The man stood up and grabbed Ed by the neck, shoving him hard into the table. The blonde screamed as he felt his back hit the cold metal, and his hands flew up in an attempt to pry the suspect's hands off. I guess he's definitely going to jail now, Ed thought, wishing he'd brought his gun along with him on this one. He couldn't breathe. He started kicking his legs, and hit the man hard in the stomach. With a scream, he fell backwards into he wall, and Ed rolled off the table onto his feet just seconds after both the suspect's fists came crashing down where he used to be. That would've hurt pretty bad… He dodged another attack and moved to the door, turning the doorknob. It was locked. Before he could unlock it, the man grabbed him by the waist and pulled him backwards. As Ed fell and hit the floor, the man grabbed one of the grey file cabinets and threw it against the door, blocking it.

Ed propped himself up on his elbows, assessing the situation. He couldn't see anything that would help him. The man reached for him, and he kicked his leg back, only to have his ankle grabbed by his other hand. Turning his arm, he flipped Ed over so he was lying on his stomach, and Ed tried to pull away, reaching for the legs of the table. Finally grasping the table, he pulled again, barely moving an inch before being pulled back again, to the corner of the room where he couldn't reach anything.

"Who has rights now, Alchemist?" The man asked, and grabbed Ed's ankle with both hands, twisting it. Ed screamed out in pain loudly, drowning out anything else the man might have said. He was powerless now, unable to defend himself.

Ed's screaming stopped when the man let go of his leg and let it fall down, and he rolled onto his back, still desperately trying to get away. The man reached forward for him again, and Ed held his arms up over his face, a defensive gesture. He grabbed both of Ed's wrists, and Ed tilted his head down, turning away from the man and closing his eyes.

"You know," The man said, "You're pretty. Maybe I won't kill you after all."

"You're the murderer, then." Ed concluded.

"Bingo." He replied.

Ed screamed again and started struggling to get away even more. He leaned his head forward and bit as hard as he could, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. The man screamed and pulled away, and Ed kicked him in the chest as hard as he could, pain shooting up his leg from his injured ankle. He ignored the pain and got on his feet, moving for the door until the man grabbed the same ankle and pulled him down to the floor. On the way down, Ed hit the table, hard. He barely moved as the man walked over and casually picked him up, dropping him down on the table. He took the handcuffs and grabbed Ed's wrists, chaining them where his own were only a few minutes ago. It was then that Ed realized what was really going on here, and he screamed again, wondering why nobody was hearing any of this. Then he remembered that they sound proofed these rooms. He was completely alone. And now he was handcuffed to a table. He really knew how to get himself into some serious trouble. The man climbed on top of him and started pulling at his clothes. Ed started kicking and screaming in response, as futile as the efforts were he needed to feel like he was at least trying.

"No!" Ed screamed.

"If you struggle you'll only make it worse on yourself."

"Let me go!"

The stranger ignored him, "Tell me," He said, "How old are you?"

Ed didn't reply, he just struggled to get away, pulling against the handcuffs so hard his wrists bled. The suspect responded by reaching for Ed's ankle again, pressing his own foot against it. Ed tried not to scream and tilted his head back, biting his lip in pain to suppress a pained gasp.

"How old are you?" The man repeated.

"Seventeen." Ed gasped.

The man laughed, "What makes someone as young as you think you can work a job like this?"

"I don't have to answer to a murderer." Ed replied angrily. He'd said the wrong thing, made the stranger angry, and he felt more pain in response.

"Don't get smart with me. You're not in the position to." He replied mockingly, then reached down and started to unbutton Ed's jeans. Ed began struggling again, the handcuffs hitting the metal table repeatedly. There was no way out of the things without keys.

After the murderer removed his own shirt and pants, he began to slowly take off Ed's, and the blonde felt like cringing every time his rough hands touched his skin. He closed his eyes, hearing clothes hit the floor beside them. He felt the man licking his collarbone, up his neck, to his jawbone and back down. He bit down, and Ed squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't think he was bleeding.

Suddenly, he felt the man's hands press roughly against his hips and he thrust in hard. Ed screamed loudly in pain, only to have a large hand cover his mouth. He had been a virgin before this, and it hurt like hell. He pressed his wrists harder into the handcuffs so he could focus on pain somewhere else. He tried to block out the man's panting in his ear. The fact that he was completely helpless kept running through his head each time he felt him push into him. He'd never felt so weak before. He didn't want this sick man to have the satisfaction of knowing what kind of pain he was in. He tried not to scream but he couldn't help it. He felt the man's body shaking on top of his and with one final moan he was finished. He gasped as he felt the murderer turned rapist come inside him, and then pull out. Ed caught his breath. The worst of it was over.

"What will you do now?" Ed asked, his voice shaking, "Now that you've obviously shown that you need to be in jail." The man ignored him, reaching for the blonde's jeans and redressing the teen. Ed let him do this; he'd much rather be dressed than completely naked. Ed didn't bother asking any more questions. He felt like he couldn't talk. The man pulled on his own pants, too, and then crossed the room, lifting the file cabinet that had been knocked down back up. He started looking for something in the top drawer.

"It's ironic how when you'd needed a gun you didn't know that there was one right here in the file cabinet." The man said.

Ed didn't say anything. He froze in fear.

"Don't worry. This isn't for you." The man assured him, sitting down in a chair across from the table. "I just don't want to be prosecuted for this, too."

Ed watched as the man raised the gun to his own head. "Hey, wait…" Ed tried reasoning. "You can't just shoot yourself, are you crazy!?" He wasn't a very good negotiator. The murderer ignored him and fired the gun, his body instantly going limp, and blood pouring from the newly created hole in his head and dripping loudly on the linoleum floor. Ed screamed, turning his head the other way. He didn't want to see the body, or the damage it had caused. He screamed until his throat hurt, knowing it was pointless. The man was clearly dead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

Roy was almost finished with the overtime he'd been assigned. The only thing left to do would be to pick up some papers he had to sign over at the Interrogations Department. He went inside and checked at the front desk.

"Hi." He said, "I have some papers I need to pick up."

"Your name?" Asked a secretary.

"Colonel Roy Mustang."

"Okay." The secretary replied and started going through a nearby file cabinet. Roy crossed his arms over his chest and waited. He wondered how Ed's earlier interrogation went. This was one of the first interrogations the teen had been assigned to do on his own.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know how Fullmetal's interrogation earlier today went, would you?" Roy found himself asking.

"Little blonde kid?" The secretary asked, before letting out a triumphant laugh as she found the proper papers, turning around and handing them to the Colonel.

"That's the one." Roy replied.

"Oh, I don't know about him," The woman explained, "I think he's still in there, actually…I didn't see him leave. I kind of wanted to check up on him, but I didn't know if he was using like a delay tactic or something. I figure its best not to meddle in the affairs of State Alchemists."

"You know what, why don't you hang on to those papers for a minute?" Roy asked, leaving. "I'll check on him myself."

"Last door to your right!" The secretary called after him. Roy reached the room and slowly opened the door, quietly poking his head in. His eyes widened, shocked, and then he threw the door open behind himself violently.

"Ed!" He shouted. The blonde was sobbing, whimpering, his eyes closed like there was something he was blocking out. His wrists were handcuffed, lying in a pool of blood. He was totally out of it. He didn't even seem to recognize Roy's voice calling out his name.

"He's dead." Ed gasped, and Roy didn't know if Ed was aware of his presence and talking to him, or if he was simply trying to calm himself down. He looked to the side, where the murder suspect was sitting on a chair, dead, a gun on the floor by his side. Roy could see the gaping hole in the side of his head. Suddenly, the body tilted more towards Roy, and a lot more blood and bits of his brain began pouring out the wound, spilling onto the already wet ground. The sickening sound it made reminded Roy of a running faucet.

Ed caught his breath, inhaling loudly on the grey table. His golden eyes snapped open, focusing on the ceiling. Dark red blood still ran down his wrists and arms. Turning his head in an attempt at blocking the sound of brains splattering against the ground, he saw Roy, who'd been standing there the entire time, motionless in shock.

"Ed, what happened to you?" Roy managed to ask, fighting the nausea he was starting to feel.

"He…he raped me…" Ed replied, "Then he shot himself, after admitting to the murder…"

"But you're dressed." Roy observed, already searching for the keys to the handcuffs.

"He dressed me."

"Your wrists are bleeding."

"I tried to get away. He broke my ankle, too."

"Do you know where the handcuff keys are?"

"I think…" Ed paused to catch his breath, "I think he's got them."

"You sure?"

Ed just nodded in reply.

"Are you okay?" Roy asked, unsure of himself as he looked for the keys to his own handcuffs, checking to see if they would work instead. They did. Gently, he helped Ed into a sitting position before the blonde said anything else.

"I told him not to shoot himself. I tried to stop it." He said before bursting into tears, one hand lightly touching his newly freed wrist, "He just attacked me and took what he wanted and he already had his mind made up. I thought the gun was for me, but…And then he shot himself and there was nothing I could do but scream until I couldn't even do that anymore. I told him not to do it. I told him not to-"

"Ed calm down." Roy said, his voice soothing, but his mind racing in all different directions. Ed was just a child in Roy's eyes. This shouldn't have happened to him. "You said he hurt your ankle. Can you walk?"

"I don't know," Ed replied, "Just get me out of here." Roy did as he was told, lifting Ed off the table and reopening the door with his foot. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

Ed didn't have any objections. Roy led him down the hallway, where the secretary was talking on a phone. She dropped it at the sight of the injured teen, standing up.

"What happened?" She asked, concerned.

"The suspect attacked Ed, handcuffed him to the table, and then shot himself in the head after confessing to the murder. You might want to call someone to get the body." Roy suggested, ending his last sentence as he quickly left the building. He got Ed into the front seat of his car and they were on their way to the hospital, Roy speeding and dangerously weaving his way through traffic.

"How are you feeling?" Roy asked.

"Not too good," Ed replied, leaning his head against the window, "If you mean about my wrists, my body's still in shock so I can't feel any pain." He added apathetically.

"How deep are they cut?"

"Not too deep. I'll live." Ed replied, and Roy assumed their conversation was over. He focused on driving, his foot pressing dangerously hard against the gas pedal. Suddenly, he felt angry. He was angry that someone could just decide to rape someone as sweet and innocent as Ed, and he was even angrier that the man was enough of a coward to shoot himself when he was done. That man wouldn't live to see the kind of damage he'd inflicted on Ed, not just now but for the long run. The helpless teen blamed himself for what happened! That sad excuse of a man had changed Ed's life for good, and even if he didn't know it himself, Roy could already see that it would be hard for things to seem normal again.