This took way longer then it should've done. *sigh* Sorry for the wait guys, but I had two courseworks that were due in last week and it was hecktic because they were 3,000 and 4,000 words long. Which is a LOT for work you don't much care about lmfao ALSO you can blame these following items for me not working on my writing as I should've done: World of Warcraft, Desktop Dungeon, homework, exams are coming soon, driving lessons AND my xbox. I have such a meaningless life LOL

Soooo I can't help but notice the HUGE increase in OC's being used in stories and people being unable to spell to save their lives. Um, if you can't spell to save your life, why did you bother? And why don't you have spellchecker if you know this? Is fanfiction going into an apocalyptic state like music and tv shows! Justin Beiber, Rebecca Black and then this whole Big Brother, So You Think You Can Dance and other rubbish. I DO NOT WANT MY FAVOURITE SITE TO BE TAKEN OVER BY MORONS PLEASE. Music and tv shows has already gone, don't let reading go too! I haven't been able to find a decent fic in weeks, looks like I need to update faster to save fanfiction from the noobism that is spreading!

Anyway that over with, there is a little extra for you at the end if you wish to read about what ELSE I have been doing over the three months. (Oh God, I took three months to update, I'm going to hell to meet daddy Satan.)

Did I also mention Word has the grammatical capacity of a pirate? It's bloody hopeless, my DOG could do better grammar than that piece of crap. Anyway, enjoy!

Warnings: Yaoism (ha that sounds so dumb), mentions of homophobia, hallucinations that some readers may find disturbing (oh sod you pussies =P) and some others that I forget lol

Trial and Error

"Yeah, I can tell you what we did. We sat around, drank coffee and did fuck all."

An aggravated sigh. "Fullmet-"

"Would you quit calling me that? I have a name and it's Edward, or just Ed."

"Ok, Ed, why don't you tell me about alchemy."

Edward raised his eyebrows, really not sure how this had anything to do with what the doctor was meant to be doing. Tim Marcoh was feeling just as lost about how to deal with this particularly difficult patient. Edward refused to talk about anything relating to his past any further than him joining the military, he just told that they were private and it would remain that way. It really didn't help Marcoh's case.

"What has alchemy got to do with anything?"

"Well, I'm an alchemist too, I used my alchemy to heal people physically, but I was suited to help people emotionally as well."

"You're saying this is something that's caused because of us?"

Tim sighed. "No, I don't think it's the person, I think it's the war, how the war is being fought."

Edward was confused. "How is it any different?"

But Marcoh refused to answer. "Doesn't matter, we're here to talk about you."

Ed let an aggravated groan escape him, but he didn't comment. "We've already established what's wrong with me, I scream when there's a lightning storm, I see a white figure in the corner of my eyes from time to time and randomly and I vomit blood. Am I missing anything?"

"Your sarcastic tone leaves much to be concerned about if you're not taking this seriously."

Ed punched the table, suddenly beyond irritated. "I didn't ask to become fucking labelled a freak! You think I faked this to get out like all the other pacifist pussies?"

Marcoh had to smile slightly. "No, I don't believe so. The Fullmetal I heard about on the battlefield would rather a pike through his heart then be seen as weak." Edward calmed down slightly hearing that, but he huffed and crossed his arms like the hidden child he was. "So, would you like to tell me what happened to bring this on?"

"Not particularly." Tim had to groan at Ed's answer, he really wasn't helping his job of healing this soldier. But really, he thought, what would be the point? To throw him back into the war that caused this? He'd just be kicked right back in here, back to square one.

"Well, what do you want to talk about?"

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you meant to know? You're the doctor."

"Well, I've tried but you don't seem to be comfortable talking at all."

Fullmetal huffed. "It's personal." When the doctor only nodded in answer, he knew he'd only get out of here if he at least coughed something up. "Right, the main reason I'm here is Kimblee didn't want me to go around and spread my gayness to the camp and make them gay too and get nothing done with all the gayness around."

Marcoh really wasn't sure what to do with that bit of information. "I'm sorry but being homosexual isn't an illness at all, so it can't be cured."

Edward made a 'huzzah' like move. "Finally, we got someone with fucking sense!" Marcoh continued to show his look of puzzlement for a few moments, before Edward sighs. "Basically, I could've been court-martialled, but a friend of mine got on my case and got me out and sent me here, told the military about my nightmares, even though that doesn't really mean I've got shell-shock at al-" Edward cut off when he saw movement out of his peripherals. Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of the Truth, staring back at him. It didn't seem merciless this time, it seemed curious, honestly curious. How strange.

He didn't hear the doctor calling his name several times, until Truth pointed it out.

"The doctor is asking you something, Mr Al-che-mist." Then its morbid grin was back, or what appeared to be a grin. Ed shivered before he turned to Marcoh.

"Huh?" It didn't prove of Ed's 205 IQ, at all.

Marcoh frowned. "Are you ok?"

"Huh?" It took several shakes of his head for his thoughts to be returned to normal. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine."

Tim wasn't convinced. He noticed how Fullmetal shifted his gaze towards the far left wall, as if he was wary of something, something that would pounce on him very soon. Marcoh was tempted to turn, but he knew what Fullmetal was seeing.

"Is he there again?"

Edward looked down, though he didn't want to admit it, he nodded.

"What is he saying, or doing?" That was the thing, Edward wasn't sure. It wasn't really doing anything. It was sitting there, staring at him with a grin on its face as if it knew something he didn't.

"Um… undermining me?" It was a guess, an educated guess, but that was the best that Edward could come up with.

Dr Marcoh made a note of this, if that was how Ed had viewed whatever he saw, then clearly he was suffering from a guilty conscience, or he believed he wasn't good enough for something, trying desperately to achieve a goal only to fail. Is this what Fullmetal considered a failure?

"Are you certain?"

Fullmetal glanced at the unwanted guest in the corner, a black aura of sorts, like a really black shadow outlining his form, demanding attention, still with the same smile on its face, but no eyes, never has any eyes, yet all knowing, knowing everything, always knowing everything.

He blinked, then Truth was gone, as always. That's what upset Ed the most, the fact that he looked so real, then he just blinks and he's gone. It unnerved him, he could easily argue that he was in the nuthouse known as Lab Five because he was labelled ill, when in fact he just preferred cock over vagina, but it was much harder when it was clear to him and the only fair doctor that Ed had so far met that didn't treat the ill alchemists like they were incompetent, like children. Ed had stopped being a child when he saved Alphonse's life. Alchemy was all about equivalent exchange, and they always said that the truth hurts. How ironic, how funny, how accurate that statement really was.

"Edward?" The voice of Dr Marcoh brought him back. Lifting his head, he looked at Marcoh indifferently.

"He's gone." Tim Marcoh knew what he meant, he had guessed the moment the young man's head looked away and he could feel the tension leave the air. The Fullmetal Alchemist really needed help, urgently. But Tim Marcoh didn't know what to do. Nightmares and hallucinations like Fullmetal had were uncommon and those that did have it were either driven insane, taken before the court for murder followed by execution if he was unlucky or driven to suicide.

At least he has his brother, but I'm not sure if his brother would be able to help much either. Dr Marcoh sighed. He'd prefer a crossword to dealing with this cockup.

There was a knock on the door startling both doctor and patient, though the doctor shouted for the person to enter. It was another doctor, a more recent one, Dr Pitt. (4) That's when Edward acted more like himself then he had in a long while.

"PITT! The fuck are you doing here?"

Pitt blinked, then recognition came. "Edward Elric? Oh man! Ed what're you doing here?" Bringing out his hand to shake Ed's he took notice of Edward's automail. "You should watch where you step, and you still haven't grown."

Edward brought the full on glare that would make even the ghosts of ghosts flee in terror, but not Pitt, that prat had little common sense when it came to figuring the 'Elric Aura'.

"Fuck off, wanker."

"Your language hasn't improved very much."

"Why don't you go fuck yourself?"

"I'd have assumed you'd at least try to learn some new words."

"Now you're taking the piss."

Pitt shook his head, smiling. "You really haven't changed."

Edward stood, defiant. "I so have! I've figured I'm gay at least." He watched Pitt's shocked face but tsk'd, flopping his hand downwards, as if to further prove of his 'gayness' as he always liked to refer to it as. "Don't worry I'm not a whore."

Pitt blinked. "I never said you were."

Edward shrugged. "Most people instantly think that when it comes to homosexuals, it's getting annoying now."

"Being honest, I kind of guessed that you would be rather fancying those of the same gender."

Edward snapped a look at Pitt. "You what!"

"Edward, it's a bit obvious, I mean-"

"You dare say I'm female at all and I'll-"

"You know I'll beat you, I'm taller then-"

"You arrogant little prick, I oughta-!"

"Do you two mind keeping quiet?" Tim Marcoh rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Well, at least Fullmetal was acting more like himself. "Dr Pitt, was there a reason for you coming here?"

Pitt shook his head, coming back into action. "Ah yes! I was just walking past when I spotted Dr Yealland taking that Flame Alchemist away."

Ed spun to look at Marcoh, then turned back to Pitt again. "What about Mustang?" Pitt didn't answer, which irritated the small volatile blond to no end. Growling, he grabbed hold of Pitt's shirt with his human hand. "What about Mustang! Tell me, damnit!"

Pitt was used to this, Edward was even violent during his younger years, when he was in high school before he left to become an apprentice alchemist after his mother's death, taking Alphonse with him, or more like Alphonse followed him. He was curious, infinitely so, as to why Edward seemed to care about this Roy Mustang character. Sure, he was a fellow alchemist, but Edward seemed to hardly notice Tim Marcoh, who was also an alchemist. What made Mustang so special?

Oh, now Pitt felt dumb, of course, Mustang is a magnet for girls and gays alike.

Putting his hands up slightly to calm the reasonably pissed off man, Pitt cleared his throat. "I wasn't sure, since I didn't ask, but given the direction they were going in…"

Ed's eyes widened, hoping he was wrong, but he was very rarely wrong. It was one of these times that he hated being always right.

"Where? Going where?"

Pitt didn't want to answer, but for the sake of his life, he decided to. "The electric room."

Edward let go of Pitt and ran out the room before anyone could so much as stand to go after him.

"Edward Elric!" Ed ignored his doctor's cry, engorged in just one mission in his mind. Help Roy Mustang and get him out of Yealland's grasp before it was too late. If it wasn't already.

…

If Roy had his gloves, he'd be having the biggest barbeque in years. He never fancied himself as a cannibal, but maybe if he cooked the bastards nice and thick, maybe he could hand them to his dog. His invisible dog, mind you. Or maybe give them purgatory (1), a real life purgatory, to burn away all that bad. But he was sure if he tried, the doctor would die, because there was just so much bad there. Though he was an alchemist, he could at least use this as an excuse, or maybe tell them he was a complete nut and was therefore not accountable to his actions. What idiots, how we shell-shocked could use this to our advantage, we could kill people and get away with it.

That is, if he wasn't currently tied to a chair, ready to be 'treated'. He tried fighting, but those guards were strong, like Alex Louise Armstrong strong (maybe he was exaggerating there, but it damn felt like it). He didn't have any chalk either, and his hand could barely move. His mouth was forced open by some weird contraption, Roy didn't care to know what it was called or what it did, he just wanted out.

"Right, so this patient has been rather… disobedient, for the past few moments." Yealland was talking, Roy wasn't sure who to. Maybe to himself, as nutty as the nutters. "Strapping him down is necessary, but once this is over, he'll be talking again and I'm certain he'll thank us for it."

Bastard, I'll thank you like a dog thanks those who kick him about. Mustang was pissed, that was putting it lightly. He was visibly calm, if you ignored his eyes, his ever seeing eyes, sharp, black and glinting with intent.

"So, since we know him as the Flame Alchemist, perhaps we should try a fag to the tongue."(2) A what! Roy wasn't sure if he was serious, but when he saw Yealland grab a lighted cigarette and make his way towards him, Mustang knew he was being serious. Next time, he would listen to the pipsqueak, this was worse then he described. In protest, Roy tried pulling away, but his head wasn't strong enough, being held by machines, whatever those alien things were, and his mouth was kept open, unable to close, not being allowed to. It was like watching the Grim Reaper coming for him, Roy kicked his legs, which were being held also though not as tightly, but it was no use, it was useless, just like him at that moment.

Useless. Useless. Useless.

Then the fag touched down. It hurt a lot more then Roy was expecting. Now he knew how his victims felt. No, this was just a portion of what they felt. Whilst his victims burned in the pits of hell, a very real hell, Roy was left as the Devil's advocate, in a way, spreading the beauty of flames that Satan called his home, his pillow, his lifeline. He could call himself the son of Satan himself and he wouldn't deny it, he would just remain silent. Havoc, why in hell would you smoke these all day! It really did taste like shit, like the smell of the corpses he delivered to Satan himself.

Then Yealland pulled it away, but the pain still lingered. He could feel the fires flare, spreading across his now dry tongue. Quickly, in a panic, he knew best that flames were as untameable as himself, he withdrew his tongue in his mouth, quickly wetting it, letting his saliva heal the wound. Though it stung, it did the trick, difficult as it was with a mouth forced to remain open. The taste still lingered, not going away. He really needed water. Or rum, vodka, beer, gin, tonic, anything!

"Now, repeat after me. Start with A." Yealland wasn't seriously getting him to say the alphabet, was he? Roy opened his eyes, he was proud of himself for letting no tears escape his eyes, though it took a while to blink the blurriness away. There was no way Roy was going to take this guy serious, the bastard had even the nerve to lock the door, lock himself in with the patient. The guy's ego was as big as Mustang's had been before all this shit; it was time someone cut it down to size. So Roy merely glared at the doctor in defiance.

"Still defying your superior?" Superior? The Flame Alchemist was never going to bow down to this guy who treated him like nothing but dirt, nothing but a dog. Mustang would've growled if he could. Yealland sighed, like Roy was rather a troublesome pest he'd rather not deal with. "I'm trying to cure you, and yet you show no appreciation." Of course he didn't, he'd rather not deal with being hurt by mere theories that probably aren't even correct. "Let us try the more effective treatment." Yealland turned away to grab a pair of gloves, by the looks of the material, the very same that Roy uses for his flame alchemy to make a spark, with the insignia for a spark and more than enough evidence from Fullmetal's talk to know what it meant. (3) Roy's instincts flared up, telling him to get away, the look on Yealland's face was not standing well with them. His face was of… satisfaction. He was getting satisfaction from this, the sadist that the doctor was. Roy never wanted a real life term for mad doctor, or witch doctor.

Frightened, for the first time since Ishbal, even in Ishbal, he had never felt so cornered, so vulnerable, so useless, ne'er before had he had this problem, he always had his gloves, a gun, even his fists to fight with, despite how crap he was at it. Now, he had nothing, nothing but his eyes, which sadly the tales of laser eyes and burning people with a simple glare were not true.

Closer and closer the Reaper came, revelling on the obvious look of fright Roy had. Roy was wrong; there were people worse than him out there posed as good people, worse than Kimblee, worse than Archer, maybe even worse than their own Fuhrer, who was corrupt enough as it was. He couldn't even scream if he wanted to, he very much felt like he would despite his inability to.

It hurt, more then he thought it would've. His hands fisted tightly, his head jerked a few times, his tongue as well more than anything else. He was sure he could even see smoke. He could taste nothing; he couldn't stop himself from his seizure, he couldn't call for help, push him away, bite down, run away, he couldn't do anything but endure the mundane shock treatment. Ne'er before had he thought he'd be subjected to it.

It was all over in a couple of seconds, though it felt an eternity for Roy, eternity of being punished for those sins he caused, the lives he killed, the doctors he executed, his friends. They were his friends and he shot them in cold blood. Mustang wouldn't be complaining, he knew he deserved this, and possibly so much more, but from this person? This wasn't Gate's messenger, this wasn't Gate's servant, he was much too sadistic for that. Gate was emotionless, he came to find and believed, to put up with equivalent exchanged, you'd have to be neutral, no taking sides, that meant no emotions, not human.

Roy Mustang was not going to take it from a person below him.

Waiting until Yealland turned his back, Roy began to scratch out an alchemy circle on the chair arm, the chair made out of wood to prevent others from getting shocked by the electricity, he could just about move his fingers to use his nails to cut into the weak wood. He took moments to look at Yealland, then turn back to his circle, a tiny thing but enough to break the restraint on the leather straps, leather was quite flammable compared to other things. Yealland was speaking, so he strained to hear him.

"Right, I'll give you a ten minute rest; don't want one of our top State Alchemists to become too injured." Yealland began sorting some other equipment out, keeping his gloves on at all times. Roy smirked, or would've if it wasn't for the mechanical things keeping his mouth open still. Then he covered the transmutation circle quickly as Yealland turned around. He glared with his best effort, putting all that bent up hatred, evil intent to see if he could make the doctor burn standing right there. But alas, Satan didn't love Roy that much. Figures.

The doctor did something unexpected, instead of what Roy thought was to gloat in his face; instead Yealland took the mouth piece off and allowed him to rest his mouth. Well, it made sense; the military must've paid a lot to give himself the best possible treatment to get him sent back into the battlefield. He grimaced as he felt a bit of drool leave his lips, he didn't miss the way Yealland sniggered either. That bastard will most definitely be meeting Satan really soon.

Yealland turned away again soon afterwards and Mustang, taking the chance, went to finish the alchemical circle. With a blue flash, the straps holding Mustang to the chair burned, breaking in less than the two seconds it took for Yealland to notice something was wrong. By then, it was already too late.

In a flash, Mustang was upon him, a strong hand wrapped around his neck, though Roy had to ignore the slight pain of splinters in his finger for creating the transmutation circle, seconds away from possibly killing the man with nobody else in the room. And the door was locked. The tables were turned and there was nothing Yealland could do about it, as Roy quickly disposed of his gloves by throwing them in the filled sink, rendering them useless. He made a mistake of showing his omnipotence, after all, all those that claimed to be so fell within a year of saying it. Yealland had lasted seven months.

And Mustang? He was smirking, but it held a darker tone, a tone of promise, of revenge, vengeance and, worse of all, enjoyment. He was enjoying it. Nobody could say Yealland wouldn't deserve it, who would care? He'd be doing the world a favour, he was mad, he didn't know what he was doing, he couldn't he held accountable, it wasn't his fault, wasn't, wasn't! What's one more life? Could it be useful? No, no, he can't hesitate to kill him, hesitance was cowardice. He had to hurry, hurry, quickly, hastily, promptly. Kill him before he kills. Before it's too late!

All those thoughts running through his mind in an angry panic, he was furious, he was frightened, he was malicious, he was benevolent. All he could hear in his mind were the gunshots, the cries for help, shouts of pain, hearing his own voice; "Quickly break down the barrier, every man for himself!" He could even hear the sand, the wind, but always those words in the back of his head. Equivalent Exchange. Always, always equivalent.

The loud sound of a knock at the door broke him from his minute long thought cycle.

"Mustang! Mustang, open the door!" It took a while for Roy to decipher the voice, to understand what it was saying and who was saying it. But when he did, his grip tightened around Yealland's throat, not enough for him to choke, but enough for a clear warning of what he was capable of. He wanted to answer the door, to get out of this living nightmare he clearly wasn't in control of, but he couldn't let him escape, the worst thing he could do was turn his back on his enemy.

"Bastard, open this door right now!" Edward sounded angry, yet urgent. He needed urgent attention, that's what Mustang's instincts told him. But he was stuck, he was holding this prisoner, this criminal, he couldn't very well let him go! It never crossed Mustang's mind on how Edward had managed to find him, nor run there, by the sounds of his heavy breathing, when his arms were held in stocks. The conflict still running through his mind, what he thought was real; Roy didn't react, keeping his eyes all on his prisoner.

He didn't even hear the bang of the young Elric kicking the door open with his automail leg. The door lock hadn't stood a chance, even as it was silently begging for Roy to wake from his real life nightmare he was reliving, petrified, too much so, to ask for mercy from the blond warrior with his eyes set on getting through, no matter the cost.

Behind the door, Fullmetal got a shock. This wasn't what he expected, though inwardly he probably hoped it in his dreams, the reality was, not so often now, more frightening. It wasn't the fact that Roy Mustang was holding Yealland up by his neck against a wall, not strangling him but dangerously close to doing so, no, it was his eyes. Roy's eyes. They were seeing far away, not seeing what Fullmetal himself was seeing. That's probably what scared the little alchemist the most, the fact that someone of Mustang's calibre was even losing control of his own mind, kindled with the fact that it was his mind that kept all that knowledge on alchemy, what the symbols mean, what it does, how to use it.

"Mr Edward Elric!" Ed ignored hearing Tim Marcoh behind him, finally catching up with the fast agile alchemist. Marcoh was getting too old for this. "Now that you've finally stopped, care to tell me the meaning of-" Marcoh cut off when he noticed inside the room, Yealland was pulling against the Flame Alchemist's arm, trying desperately to get some air into his lungs. The Flame Alchemists didn't seem to be with the world, outside in a real nightmare from the past and Tim wasn't really sure of his negotiation skills with a mad man. No, not a mad man, a troubled man.

But Ed, ever the risky, wasn't going to let the nightmares take a companion away. They were all companions in Lab Five, all with the same disease yet it acted differently depending on the person. Besides, it was only Yealland if he did fail, nobody would really care about him.

"Hey, Colonel?" Ed called out in a normal voice, walking slowly, but surely, towards the pair. Dr Marcoh reached out a hand, whispering "no, Fullmetal, don't!" but it was already too late, Fullmetal was out of his reach.

Colonel Roy Mustang didn't appear to have heard, or even acknowledged their presence yet, still stuck between nightmare and reality, not that either were worse than the other. "Colonel? Hey! Colonel Mustang!"

Mustang seemed to have heard him that time, because he turned his head, looking directly at Fullmetal and immediately reacted defensively. He took Yealland in a headlock, taking hold of what appeared to be the device Yealland used to keep patient's mouth open. Completely harmless in the way Roy was trying to use it, but it was still risky. Mustang didn't see a device; he saw a gun, or a knife, something worth being scared and tentative about.

"Stay back!" Mustang didn't just speak, he yelled, for the first time since his stay, Roy's voice was working! This made sense to Edward, though he wasn't expecting it, his mind was stuck in the past, before he lost his voice, his mind was confused, so Roy was able to talk for a limited amount of time, he wasn't sure how long that was going to last. "I'm warning you, I will shoot!"

Roy had to yell over the gun fire to make sure the rebel heard. The rebel was relatively short, that shocked Mustang, maybe a child? He couldn't kill a child, no matter the charges, he couldn't! But the rebel wasn't listening; he was getting closer, walking closer to help his companion, the companion that tried to kill the famed Flame Alchemist! He hoped his hand wasn't shaking, he was terrified more of this child than any other rebel he'd encountered. Because he wouldn't, couldn't, kill a child.

"Colonel Mustang!" He only just heard it, over the sandstorm that brew, the gunshots that were firing in the village not far away, he heard the call of that child rebel. The sandstorm made it almost impossible to see the rebel, save his size as a silhouette becoming clearer in the sandstorm that brew. Then he could spot red, a red coat of some sorts. Didn't the rebels wear desert like clothing? Who would wear a coat in this heat? And golden hair? When did rebels have golden hair?

Roy wasn't so sure it was a rebel now, he had to check. "State your name! And rank!"

He only just caught a sigh. What gave this kid a right to sigh in the middle of a war? Who did he think he was, prancing around the desert with no fear at all, just confidence, when people were dying here?

"Fine, if it wakes your lazy arse." What? "Major Edward Elric. The Fullmetal Alchemist." Hadn't he heard that name before? Edward Elric… Edward… Elric… Ed!

"Edward?"

But as he said that, the sandstorm grew, so much he was blinded. In shock, he dropped his captive and the gun, he was too caught unawares to really take notice of his captive getting to his feet and running for the wilderness that used to be there, but just wasn't anymore. He fell to his knees, holding an arm out to protect his eyes, closing them. He could just about hear a cry.

"Mustang! Hey, bastard, what's wrong?" How could they see through this? It was almost impossible to see, Mustang didn't want to risk an eye infection, especially when he needed them so badly for his alchemy.

"How can you see a thing, Fullmetal!"

"What are you going on about?" Edward sounded confused. Why would he be? Can't he hear, see, the sandstorm, the gunshots? Roy didn't want to risk opening his eyes.

"The sandstorm, damnit! I can't see a thing!"

"There's no sandstorm, Roy. Open your eyes." But he could hear it, feel it!

"I can't, it's still there, I know it is!"

"You're bloody hopeless, you know that?" Mustang growled, but he still refused to open his eyes to endure neither the howling wind of the sand nor the horrible sight of blood and loss caused by the guns of war. "I heard from the papers you were a right man whore, then I hear the whole fame business goes around, 'oh the Flame Alchemist he's great and gets rid of those rebellious bastards' and look at you now, stuck on the floor after a shock treatment. Shame you didn't knock the guy who zapped you into wherever you are out. You couldn't even manage that, you lazy wanker."

Roy Mustang did grab for the boy, in the general direction he heard the voice anyway, instinctively. How dare the little bastard say that! He knew he grabbed hold of the boy when he heard him gasp in surprise.

"Why you, what gives you the right to patronize me? What have you got that could possibly compare to what I've done, what I've gone through, the things I've seen, major?" There was a bite of venom in his voice, for the first time, able to speak –speak!- his concerns out loud, of what happened, the things stuck inside his troubled mind keeping it shut on lock down security even from himself. "There are some things the papers don't put out, anything good you've done, anything horrific you've been through, always, always, always putting out the horrible things you've done to make you look like a criminal. I know I'm not a criminal, I was following orders like everyone else, how does that make me bad?"

"You're not bad, Roy, neither of us are. We were all doing what we were ordered to do; it's none of our faults, despite what the papers say. The other doctors might say it's our faults, we're weak but we're not!"

"We must be. People like Kimblee, Archer, some others… they're not like us, they're ok. Why aren't we?"

"Bad people don't get hurt by seeing others die, Roy. That's why they're ok, because they don't care." That one sentence made sense. Roy wanted a reason; he wanted to know why he got it. All the soldiers who got it suddenly refused to fight, were stuck not moving, even if you tried to force them. How did he become like them? Now he knew, because he cared. How was it the bad always got off scot free? It just wasn't fair. "Because you got this shows you're a good person, Roy."

"Damned fool, this isn't something we should be proud of!"

"I know, but secretly we're all relieved there are so many good in the military. Sad to see them fall, but glad to distinguish." Edward then sighed. "Now, will you open your eyes already?"

Roy didn't want to, but he felt like he should. As he did, he saw Ed's eyes locking onto his own. There was no sandstorm; in fact, there wasn't any sand at all. He slowly remembered, he was being shocked, he panicked and… oh, he attacked Yealland. More, he just hoped nobody noticed. Of course, he wasn't going to apologise, at least he won't mean it, but this was troubling for him if the military found out, or his superiors.

"Finally, why couldn't you just open them in the first place?"

Roy glared, ready to retort, when he almost physically felt his vocal cords tighten, closing up. Oh, no, no, no! He touched his throat, maybe he imagined it? He went to try to insult the boy, shrimp, or something that sounded as good, but no sound escaped. He was mute once again.

Ed was confused, but then he understood. "Oh, voice gone into hiding again?"

He didn't like how the major put it, but there was no other effective answer to that, so Mustang just nodded. It was true, after all, he was able to speak briefly, but he seemed to have lost his voice again. At least that's one way of bringing it back, and not a very good one either. Though having amnesia was tempting.

"Can I just say that your voice, whilst it lasted, was damn sexy?"Really now? Mustang should've been surprised, but he really wasn't. The boy was twenty odd; of course sex would be at the top of the list of things to be concerned about. It did give Roy an ego boost… not that he really needed it.

Roy smirked flirtatiously, bending down closer to Ed's face, it was meant to be flirting anyway, but considering the major's height and his sensitivity to that being known. Well.

"Waitaminute, ARE YOU SAYING I'M SHORT? AGAIN?"

Cue for breaking the atmosphere, and bruising Roy's ego right back again. Bloody hell.

"Fullmetal and Flame." Oh, that has a nice ring to it, Roy's mind just couldn't help but think that, but he threw it into the cupboard for later, or a wardrobe into some unknown elven world or some nonsense, just away from here. Wait, my name should be first! I'm higher rank! Came shortly afterwards, also later thrown into the wardrobe of elveness, or oblivion not wanting anyone to know of his still lingering childishness. Last he needed was his subordinates ridiculing him with that material.

"Oh can't you just piss off already?" Elric wasn't amused; in fact, he was still red in the face for misinterpreting what Roy had been meaning to say.

"I'm afraid not, Elric." Tim Marcoh had to smile. At least Edward was acting like his usual, brash and unrespectable soldier of the military. "But I think we can call it a day for the both of you, you must be very tired." Then Tim sighed. "You might need it, I'm afraid I have to inform the military of what Mustang has done."

There went Roy's idea of hiding it from the military. He was going to get into shit for this, he just knew it. He didn't usually care, but he was in a bad enough position already, last thing he needed was the tip of the iceberg.

"Hey, what about that Yealland doctor?" Edward was even less amused now than before. "He shouldn't be able to get away with this!"

"I'll see to it that Yealland has a medical leave. I'm sure he'll be a bit traumatized by the events of today."

"I'll put him in medical leave alright, for a broken face!" Then the alchemist put up his arms. "And when the fuck do I get these off? I'm not a fucking criminal already!"

Marcoh sighed, then brought out a key. "Alright, I'll let you off them, but promise that you won't use alchemy unless strictly necessary?"

"What the hell is-!"

"Promise?"

"Yes! Fine! Whatever, just get these off!" The click of the stocks coming off was probably the most beautiful thing Edward had heard all day. He threw his fist in the air in celebration, then proceeded to hug Colonel Mustang, something the Colonel wasn't prepared for as he fell over back into the chair. "Finally! Now I can fully molest this bastard like I intend to." There was no doubting this boy's courage, or his ignorance.

"Fullmetal! Time and a place."

Edward Elric turned his golden glare on Marcoh. "Then leave already! Privacy!"

"Fullmetal, we need this room, the military might need it for evidence for-"

"They can come tomorrow, I'm busy so leave!"

Dr Marcoh didn't argue that time; it was no use talking sense into a horny alchemist anyway. Roy didn't seem to be complaining either; he just looked perplexed that Edward was ordering for this now of all times. Still, Mustang could take care of himself. With that noted, Marcoh nodded, muttering a "very well, but keep it down," before he slipped out the door, hearing Edward later locking the door close behind him.

Guess he should make that call now.

…

Hughes was tempted to, for the first time in a while, to throw the phone aside. This wasn't the first time he thought of skipping work, though that was when he was out in the field, not snug in Central with his lovely girlfriend. He had only recently confirmed with his base of operations that his home phone would be his girlfriend's house, since he was going to be living with her, and hopefully marrying her. He didn't think he'd get a phone call so early in staying with his girlfriend. It was his day off today as well, what could the phone call possibly be?

"Maes, honey?" Gracia, dear lovely Gracia, ever kind, knew that Maes was frustrated with having a phone call so early, but knew it had to be important if there was one.

"I'm hoping it's nothing serious." He was actually trying to have a nice relaxing lunch with his wife, a late comfortable lunch after a long night of lovemaking; they hadn't actually gone out of bed until eleven am anyway.

"You should just check, just in case." Gracia touched Maes' hand, reassuring him that it was ok to answer the phone, she didn't mind, since it must've been serious.

Hughes smiled at his girlfriend, before picking up the phone. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes."

"Ah, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, this is Dr Tim Marcoh from Lab Five. I'm calling about your friend, Colonel Roy Mustang."

Hughes' eyes shot up, he wasn't expecting this call. At least, not that soon.

"Roy, is he alright?"

There was a slight sigh from the other side, a tired one. "Roy Mustang is fine, at least he will be. He had a bit of a scare with a treatment Dr Yealland tried."

"Treatment?"

"Shock treatment."

Hughes was beyond furious, how could this be accepted? They weren't criminals, it was bad enough he caught a few in stocks! "How is that accepted? How can he get away with that?"

"The government requested we give full access to almost any method that works, apparently Yealland's method works. Not in Mustang's case."

"What happened?"

"Yealland was working the treatment on him, I'm not completely sure what happened but he must've gotten out of the restraints and attacked Yealland. I was informed by Dr Pitt that Yealland had taken Roy Mustang for treatment. I was having a session with Edward, my methods are not nearly as morbid nor painful as Yealland's, don't worry, I don't approve of his methods either. Edward seems to be… well, quite fond of Mustang, to say the least, he rushed out to find him and that's how I found Roy looking like he was about to strangle Dr Yealland."

Hughes was at a loss for words, moreover, he felt really sorry for his best friend. "Is Roy ok?"

"Roy recovered. You should thank his friend Edward Elric, he was the one that managed to calm the Colonel down."

Maes let out a sigh of relief. He knew it wasn't a mistake to trust that kid. He was young, but he was experienced, just like Roy himself. They were quite the match, quite in common with each other. "Well, can I talk to Roy? Just to see how he is."

That's when Dr Marcoh grew uncomfortable, as the phone remained silent for a minute or two. Then a reply came through. "I'm not so sure you'll be able to. Fullmetal and Flame are… how to put it… spending time together, intimately, to put it lightly."

That was a surprise, to say the least. He'd have thought they'd have at least kept it quiet or at least waited a bit longer. He supposed neither had had sex in a long time, or simply saw no reason to wait. He just hoped neither would get hurt for this. One night stands could change a lot of things sometimes, not that he knew, he just felt that Fullmetal and Flame really did have a good ring to it. Maybe they'd see later. "Ah, right. Can you let him know I hope he'll recover soon? Oh and I'll be bringing Gracia over next time!"

"Of course, Maes Hughes. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Can you give Roy another doctor? I don't appreciate my friend being hurt in anyway, even if it helps speed up the treatment."

Tim Marcoh could understand that. It's what he intended anyway. That sounds reasonable, I may see if my friend Dr Pitt will be able to treat Roy Mustang, he's new but I trust him."

That was good enough for Maes Hughes, but he was definitely going to be investigating inside more on the methods the doctors were using and seeing if he could deem them banned. He knew that the Fuhrer did give full access to any method so long as it worked, but clearly shocking the patient wasn't a treatment. It was a medicine that only worked if taken periodically; otherwise they would be back to square one. "Alright, thank you doctor. I'll be over to visit tomorrow." Hughes put the phone down with a sigh.

"Maes? Is everything alright?" Gracia put a hand on her boyfriends' shoulder, seeing that his shoulder had grown tense, they still were, but not as much as previous.

Hughes turned to his love, smiling. "Yes, it is. He was just telling me about Roy boy's condition. He had a little freak episode but he's ok." He kissed Gracia once on the lips, tenderly, reminding her as he always did that he loved her and nobody else. "Gracia? Do you want to meet Roy tomorrow? I said I'd come visit him when he's better tomorrow, but he was busy with another friend he met who is also recovering. Would you mind?"

Gracia smiled, she always wanted to meet the man who was best friends with Maes Hughes, since Maes was always talking highly of Roy. She wanted to be part of his world, all of his world if she could. "I'd love to! Should I bring him some of my pie? You left some over from last time."

Maes smiled. "I'm sure he'd love it, darling. Thank you, sweetie!" Life couldn't get any better than this.

Well... I figure Mustang isn't one to take it sitting down. I felt awful, then I was feeling like the greatest person in the world! Mustang kicks arse. Yes he does. Who's grateful that Yealland got SOME punishment, or at least a scare? :D Bastard deserved it lolol

OH ALSO I have managed and attempted to write a RoyEd PWP oneshot! Well, it sort of has a plot but it's mostly porn xD I'd really appreciate it if you could read that and give me some advice on how to write my porn more effectively. It's my first PWP and I haven't much experience with this stuff so yeah xD much appreciated! Link is in my profile, just go to the bottom and scroll up. It's called Mustang Trinket. Thanks!

Review if you feel like it. I don't really care about reviews. What is that review whoring about anyway? Reviews aren't a lifeline, they're a bonus, Jesus Christ. Greed, much?
~Blackie

Footnotes~

(1) Purgatory- In case you hadn't figured it out already, purgatory is the place catholics(I believe) believe sinners go to after they die to burn their sins away before they are granted access to heaven's gates.

(2) This is true! Doctors really DID put cigs on patient's tongue, because they believed it would give it feeling again and they would be able to talk again. I'm not sure if it ever worked, mind you.

(3) I'm aware some other authors have used this idea, but I was lacking in anything else, however, the electricity only lasts for a little while, a few seconds, so Yealland would have to keep clicking (or snapping as everyone seems to say) his fingers to get electricity.

(4) See Light Novel issue number 4, Under the Faraway Sky. We are told that Pitt was Edward's best friend and they were number one pranksters in their lives. We're never told his first (or sur)name but we are told that Pitt aspired to be JUST like Edward, always in a constant competition to be the best no matter the cost, so Pitt left soon after Edward and Alphonse did to become a doctor, which is how he is here now.