Sorry for the long wait on the update. Again, this fic is moving so much slower than I had originally anticipated, so this chapter is kind of boring; it didn't go where I had planned on it to go. I find it to be kind of lacking and the ending sort of falls apart. Anyways, I had a lot of technical problems with this chapter, but I'm not going to go into that. Also, there are probably a lot of spelling and grammatical errors throughout this. Please just ignore it until I can run through this chapter and weed them out (was distracted while writing).

Oh, and yes, that is the number in Ed's pocket watch. A lot of you got a ginormous cookie :)


A voice, so garbled that the vowels couldn't be distinguished from the consonants to form the separate words of the simple sentence, filled his hazy mind. Following the words came a pinch at his arm. He was surprised that he'd gotten used to the sharp pain; now it felt like nothing more than a half-hearted pinch. But no matter how many times they pushed that vile substance into his blood, he knew he would never get used to the dark whispers that followed.

The past eight times they had injected him with the drug they called Devil's Whisper, the menacing voice came immediately afterwards, filling his head with his supposed failures and promises of a sweet afterlife done by his own hand. Despite how foggy his mind was during the moments under the drug's influence, he knew he was desperate every single time to end it all; he knew that he had tried, obviously without any success, to take his own life because the voice told him that he had nothing more to live for now that Alphonse was dead.

Because of his honest attempts, they kept him under constant surveillance and kept him tightly bound. Even now they suspended in the air, his feet a good inch off the ground. Hanging from the ceiling was a long rod that resembled a fishing hook, and around his wrists was a metal chain. Due to their efforts to keep him alive, Ed knew that they still needed him and could not risk letting him in a position where he would be able to cause harm to himself.

But as he waited for the drug to seize his mind, time pressed on. Unlike the many times before, there was no voice, and Ed had a thought that maybe they hadn't injected him with the familiar drug this time. Maybe they'd given him something different, something that would take him away from the sorry world he was in and carry him away somewhere far.

He felt the beginnings of a hearty laugh swirl in the pit of his stomach at such a ludicrous thought. That would be entirely too kind of them.

He knew how his captors worked now. They didn't show mercy, and they enjoyed watching him and every sorry son of a bitch in their hands writhe in pain and shrink away in themselves, cracking the glass of sanity. No, there would be no compassion from these people.

The garbled voice he had heard before feeling the pinch of a needle breaking his skin filled the air again.

"-ke up. You have some time," the voice said. Time? What the hell did that mean? Time until what?

Ed forced his eyes open to see what the person was talking about. He immediately recognized the owner of the voice as the Ishbalan with the Glasgow smile. It seemed that anything that had to do with the blond also had to do with this particular man.

The Ishbalan, whose name Ed had never heard spoken, set the syringe on a nearby table, and Ed noticed that they were the only two in the room. The brown-skinned man turned to face the blond, giving him a long look as his red eyes examined his body. The blood rushed up to Ed's cheeks as he saw the man's eyes rest on one particular spot of his physical being, a spot he desperately wanted to cover. In fact, wearing a pair of pants, or even boxers, would probably lift his spirits considerably.

"Fifteen to thirty minutes, I think," the Ishbalan said, breaking his eyes away from the young alchemist to occupy an empty chair against the wall.

Despite being in one of the worst situations possible, Ed was still Ed, and he often fought them in his own little ways.

His eyes, now a tarnished gold, locked with the man's crimson eyes in sheer rebellion. He was determined to show the Ishbalan that he was not yet broken, that he still held a will to fight and live. Ed knew that this man in particular hated how hopeful he was at escaping, but Ed loved to see how much it would take before the man snapped and struck him in a fury. No matter how exhausted he was, he always threw back his head after being slapped for his insolence and laughed in the victory of knowing he had annoyed the false-grinning Ishbalan.

Much to the rebellious blond's dismay, the Ishbalan simply shrugged and repeated what he had said before. "Fifteen to thirty minutes. You have some time, so I suggest you use it wisely."

"What are you talking about?" Ed snapped, clipping his words with a rude sharpness.

"It's strange how it works, but the bigger the dosage, the longer it takes to start working. I've tripled your normal dose of Devil's Whisper."

"T-tripled?" Ed's voice fell to a whisper and his head dropped as his eyes widened. If the dosage was bigger, then would the effect be bigger too?

"I'm actually quite surprised by you," the Ishbalan said, making Ed's gaze rise to stare at him. "You're a real rarity in this place. You see, most people we bring here immediately begin to ask questions as soon as they see someone who might have answers. They plead and beg. Really quite pathetic. You, on the other hand, haven't really given in to the constant questioning. Between questions and begging, you've really only done the latter."

Ed kept his eyes fixated on the man, trying wildly to figure out what he was getting out with his spill. There had to be some point to it.

"You're not as annoying as all the others I've had to watch, so I would like to reward you. You have a bit of time before you lose yourself to him, so I am going to allow to ask whatever questions are swirling in your small brain and I will answer all of them honestly."

The blond carefully considered the Ishbalan's words. He knew it would be foolish to think that there wasn't some sort of catch, some secret deal, but what was the harm in asking a question or two? Besides, there was something he absolutely needed to know.

"There is something I would like to ask," he began, voice trailing away as he thought of how he should ask or if he should ask at all.

"Ask away, Elric."

"The boy I was brought here with, is he still alive?"

The dark whisper in his head always told him that his younger brother, Alphonse, was dead. And after only the second time of hearing the harsh voice, his mind adopted the whispered words as a part of his reality, as the truth.

"What is your relationship with him?" the Ishbalan asked. "You answer me that and I will answer your question."

"He's...There's no relation."

"Don't lie to me," the red-eyed man spat. "If he was no one to you, then why did you take all of his pain? You fought for him. You gave your body to me to spare his. Why would you do that if there was no strong bond between you?"

"He's just kid," Ed said quickly. "No kid should have to go through something like that."

"But are you not just a kid yourself? You can hardly be called an adult in a numerical sense. No more than eighteen."

Ed watched as the Ishbalan rose to his feet and approached him with long strides. He flinched slightly as an icy cold hand pinched his sides where a countless number of gashes, cuts, and bruises decorated his skin. His breath caught in his throat as the man's hand ghosted to the center of his abdomen, then gradually descended along the span of abused skin.

"Yes, no more than eighteen," he murmured as he wrapped his cold fingers over the blond's flaccid length. The Ishbalan tightened his fingers around his captive's manhood, earning a very audible gasp.

Ed hadn't been touched in such an ill manner as that since he'd been separated from his brother. But as the man's fingers ran along his manhood, he found himself screaming in his mind for his body not to react to the intense strokes.

"I'll stop if you tell me who that boy is," the red-eyed man said as he picked up his pace along the blond's shaft, smirking as he felt it twitch slightly in his hand. He knew the teen was struggling to keep his body where he wanted it, and knowing that he was losing that battle of control made him smile.

He was desperate for the touches to stop, especially when he felt the free hand trail over his hip until he felt a long finger touch his crack. The finger moved down to trace the natural engraving, and then slipped between the firm cheeks of the youth. Ed felt he would die if his body was violated again; the shame and guilt that followed after the horrendous act against his body was unbearable. He couldn't let it happen again. Never again.

"He's my brother," he blurted out quickly, relieved that the man's hand left his back before he had to experience that painful penetration.

"Really? I thought the Elric brothers were a duo," the dark-skinned man said.

"It's just me and him," Ed said softly, feeling terribly ashamed for giving away such momentous information to his enemy.

"But I thought the younger Elric was trapped in a suit of armor. The one who say is your brother is complete flesh and bone."

"He was. I fixed us."

"Oh, that would explain why your automail is no longer a part of you. I kept thinking that you two were closely related, cousins at the most, because the armor part re-"

"I don't care about that," Ed interrupted through clenched teeth, eyeing the man with a dangerous glare. "I answered your question, now answer mine. Is he alive? My brother, is he alive?"

"What makes you think otherwise?"

"Stop it! Stop asking questions and answer mine, damn it!"

"Oh, I understand. He must have told you that your brother was dead. Did the same thing to me, he did." Catching the confused expression on the blond's face, the man decided to elaborate. "It was a complete accident. The last person we tested Devil's Whisper on broke free of her bonds and stabbed me with a full syringe. That was three years ago and I can still remember the wretched feeling that coursed through me for what felt like hours. I can still remember every word that was whispered in my head. It's much more fun to watch someone suffer than to suffer yourself, I've decided. I . . ."

Ed hung his head, tuning out the man's words as he realized he wasn't going to find out if his brother was okay for quite some time, if at all.

As the Ishbalan chatted on about his experience with Devil's Whisper, Ed felt the drug running through his veins begin to take hold of his mind. He felt the darkness, thick like mud, cloud his thoughts and senses. Pain hit him like a cruel slap as his body lit up in an unbearable heat. His head tossed back and eyes screwed shut in response.

"Why me?" he asked through his gritted teeth.

"Why not you?" the red-eyed man wittingly replied. He smiled as he took his seat against the wall, grabbing a clipboard off the nearby table as he went. He scribbled down the blond's every word, his pleas and screams for the voice to hush. He wrote down in fine detail how the teen's body moved and squirmed as if he were being prodded by an unseen hot iron. He smiled as he wrote, because he truly enjoyed watching someone suffer instead of suffering himself.


The full moon was high in the sky, giving the land ahead a silver tone that had been gold hours before. He sighed deeply as he pulled his knees up to his chest for extra warmth. The days were hellishly hot, but the nights chilled his bones. If his goal wasn't so important, then he would have called it all off days ago. It seemed hopeless as of now. They'd been trudging over dry, sun-cracked soil for nearly a week and he knew that everyone in the small troop was beginning to grow restless and weary. He knew it wouldn't be long before he would have to call the search off.

For once in his life, he hadn't a clue what to do. He could feel that they were close, so very close to finding the brothers, but there hadn't been a single sign of them since they'd left camp. He knew they were close, almost as if they were standing over the clues and secrets to the brothers' disappearance.

"What happened to you two?" he murmured, pressing his forehead against his knees.

"Colonel?"

Roy raised his head at the soft voice. A hand placed itself on his back in a comforting manner, then there was a bit of shuffling next to him. He turned his black eyes to the woman and smiled a humorless smile.

"Riza, do you think this is hopeless?" he asked, voice hardly more than a whisper.

The blonde gazed out at the silver disk in the sky. Her answer was in her silence.

"So it is," Roy muttered, then turned his gaze to stare at the bright moon. He felt his heart snap in two as he admitted to himself that the search would not have the desired results.

He'd never been one to give up so easily, but he could feel the small flicker of hope dimming in his heart. As time stretched forward, he knew that the fire, once bright and intense, was dying away. The cold hand of despair and ruin clawed at his mind and soul, teasing him with words that there was still hope when he already knew there was none. The Elric brothers were dead and no matter how many times he told himself otherwise, he knew that was the harsh truth. They were dead, and there was no telling where their lifeless bodies were in the vast landscape of their surroundings. There was no point in searching for them any longer.

"I guess," he began, "it's time to call this whole thing off and get back to camp."

Riza said nothing, but as he turned his gaze upon her once more, her face caressed in the stunning light, he knew that she was just as torn as he was. They both wanted to believe that the boys were somewhere safe and sound, just within reach, but the heavy feeling that was pitted in their stomachs told them that all was not well with the Elrics. And more often than not, that feeling was the unspoken truth.

The raven-haired man ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Until the day he died he would wonder what exactly had happened to Edward and Alphonse Elric, and every day for the rest of his life he would feel the heart-wrenching pains of failure. He had failed the brothers as their leader, as an adult, as a role model, but above all, as the only person who represented a father to them. He'd failed and that knowledge would follow him for the rest of his life like his own little disease.

"We'll rest tonight and head back at daybreak," Roy said to his most loyal of subordinates.

Riza Hawkeye nodded, her gaze still fixed on the fairytale moon, and Roy Mustang suppressed the urge to let his own eyes shine wetly in the moonlight as hers were.


A tortured howl echoed off the stone walls and the chain between his wrists clanked against the metal hook he was hanging from. His body tensed, blue veins protruding from his skin and sweat trickling down his body, as he felt pain surge up and down his body. Sharp claws and pointed teeth lashed out on his skin, driving screams from his throat. Although he could feel the intrusion of long fingernails and fangs breaking his skin, his body showed no new signs of abuse. In his mind's eye, he saw himself dripping with fresh blood as the monster attacked him over and over, all the while making sure to remind him of his failures and sins.

Ed let loose a wail of curses as the monster's weapons dug so deep into his body and in the most effective of places. By now he was dressed in nothing more than a sheet of liquid crimson. His ability to breathe escaped him, and he fell into an eternal blackness.

In the blackness, there was a strange sensation against his heels. If he was dead, then why was he still able to feel?

Ed forced his eyes open to find that his death was only an imagination brought on by the intensity of the drug. He was being dragged, his feet rubbing against the coarse floor as he was pulled away. But where was he being taken?

His mind was a complete fog, and he was lost inside himself. He wasn't sure where he was or even what his own name was. The only thing he definitely knew was that he wasn't supposed to be there, wherever there was. He knew he wasn't supposed in whatever situation he was in, and he knew that his life was in danger.

"L-let me go," he said weakly, but only received a short snort from the person dragging him.

The man pulling him stopped and Ed heard a door open, and then, the world ran past him in a dizzying blur. His stomach caught in his throat and he had to fight the urge to release the bitter bile that desperately wanted out. His body crashed against the cold, hard floor, but something warm immediately fell over his body. He kept his eyes screwed shut to keep the world still, but more than that, he was terrified at who or what was so warm against his skin.

"Edward?"

The voice sounded so familiar and it pained him that he couldn't recognize it. It was a kind and caring voice, so different from the one that had been toying in his head for the past hour. He liked the voice that was speaking to him now.

"Ed, say something."

The voice was cracking and an even greater pain hit him at hearing the voice break with a sob. He felt his body being squeezed against something warm and soft and he reveled in the comforting heat.

Whoever was speaking to him didn't mean him any harm, so he forced his eyes open to meet a face he had longed to see for what felt like an eternity. His senses came rushing back to him, overpowering the haze of his mind. Tears stung his eyes and he fought to keep them back with hard blinks, though that did little.

Wet tears trailed down his cheeks, leaving a clean streak through the dirt and grim. A lump caught in his throat as he reached his hand out to cup his brother's cheek; it was so warm against the palm of his hand. Fingers wrapped around his and squeezed tightly and he knew that this was real, that his brother was alive.

"Alphonse."

He broke down, letting a flood of tears fall from the corners of his eyes and pitiful sobs fill the air. Alphonse simply held him close in his arms.

They were both alive and together at last, but how long would that last?


If this fic actually goes where I would like it to go, then the next chapter will actually have a lot more to it. The next chapter will, hopefully, be very intense. But I would like to give a fair warning now that the content in the next chapter might not be suitable to everyone's taste. It will be very graphic in a sense that I am not even comfortable writing about, but I feel that this certain turn in events will help to push the story along (even though I'll get a lot of hate mail for it...).

But yeah, moving on, I would like to point out that I do reply to majority of reviews I receive, so if you asked a question, then you got an answer!

I think that's it...
Comments are welcome!