A/N: Okay, so I'm not sure how many people actually read the author's notes but for those of you who do, and who actually give a shit (though I can't really blame those of you who don't) I just thought it would be cool to share something with you all. I have discovered, quite accidentally, that my cat plays catch. Yes, like a dog. I throw the little toy mouse, he runs and gets it and then comes back with it to dump it at my feet so that I can throw it again. This goes on until he gets bored. I nearly died the first time I discovered that I actually own a dog in a cat's skin. Hahaha! Anyway, thanks for indulging me, I'm sure you all want to just get to the real reason why you clicked on this chapter XP. I must say, I'm quite happy with this one. Hope you all are too! Once again, for my bestest pally, malfoysdaughter. Love ya, kid!

Warnings: Mentions and flashbacks of rape . Unbeta'd


It was this place again, the same place every night, the one that lurked in the back of his mind so that when he closed his eyes, he was once again surrounded by thick shadows and damp, concrete walls. Sometimes it was nighttime, sometimes the sun shone in thick rods through chinks in the ceiling but there was one thing that never changed. He couldn't escape.

Metal encircled his wrists and ankles and he had thought at first he might be able to break through the chains with his automail which had often proved stronger than steel but there was a weakness in his limbs that suggested drugs. No matter how he strained against his bonds, he couldn't break through.

And always there was pain.

Pain from sharp objects piercing his flesh, leather bringing welts to the surface of his skin, fists pummeling him while voices laughed around him, leering faces with melting features shifting in and out of his wavering vision. The owners of those faces would hurt him, over and over, their voices loud in his ears, though he could never quite make out the words that they were saying. Their hands would rip at his clothing, showing off his thinning frame and he could hide nothing from their prying eyes, always judging him, stripping away the layers of his soul until he was nothing but a beaten husk. He thought that if he didn't cry out, didn't make a noise, they would leave him be after they had their fill of hurting him.

But he knew, despite the foolish hope that he seemed to still be able to cling to, they were far from done. When the first one forced apart his legs and entered him in a blaze of pain, that hope would shatter all over again. There was someone crying in the back of his mind and someone's tears rolled down his cheeks.

Don't look at me…

And he always screamed.

It happened every night.

Every night the soft cries from across the hall punctuated his own dreams and pulled him to awareness, the sound so filled with anguish sometimes it was hard to distinguish who it really belonged to, himself or the boy sleeping across the hall. It had become such a regular occurrence, in fact, that many times he would be awake before the real screams even started. After more than a month of being woken in the middle of the night in the same manner, it was almost as if he had become tuned to the moment when his young house guest's dreams took a turn for the worse, as they always were sure to do. And even after all the time that had passed, the weeks that had dragged on in this manner, the overwhelming helplessness that clawed at the inside of his chest never went away, never lessened.

Roy stared up at the blank, shadowed face of his ceiling, taking in the deep quiet only brought on by early hours of the morning and waited. Tonight was one of the nights his body woke him up for what was to come instead of being roughly shaken by the sounds of Ed's nightmares. He often didn't know which one was worse; waiting for the heartrending screams to start or having them invade his own sleep. Either way, he hated it. He hated that there was nothing he could do to make the dreams easier for the boy, hated that he couldn't wake the blond from them and hated that he had to sit and wait until Ed finally woke up before he could go and comfort him. If the kid even allowed him that. Sometimes he would knock on the bedroom door and be screamed at, the voice rough from abuse and tears refusing to let him enter.

That was something that he had hoped they would get past, as they had the problem of not eating, of disinterest and, just recently, of physical touches. But this was not something Ed seemed to be able free himself from. The nightmares did something, put him in some kind of frame of mind that would have him on the verge of a panic attack, as if he really believed he was back in that God-forsaken warehouse and needed time to figure out what was reality and what was the figment of his memories. All Roy wanted to do was wrap his arms around the slender shoulders and let the golden head rest on his shoulder as he cried. He wanted to take all of that pain into himself so that the boy no longer had to suffer anymore. The Colonel would live through every moment of it over and over so that Ed no longer had to.

But he could not do that, no yet anyway, because even if the blond did let him in the room, he couldn't go near the bed and he couldn't show how the younger alchemist's tears affected him and he couldn't do anything to take away that agonizing pain. Or he just stared at the closed door and listened to the boy cry.

He wondered what tonight was going to be.

With a small sigh, he sat up and pushed his covers back, shivering as the cool air hit the bare skin of his torso. It wasn't a cold night as it was still early fall but he had always hated leaving the embrace of a nice warm bed. Still, he knew from experience that it would better if he was already up when Ed's nightmares began. At first, when this started, he would unglue his eyelids and try to fight his way through the fatigue. Waking up in the middle of the night usually made him nauseous and irritable in the morning. But now he barely even noticed. It probably made it easier that he wanted to do anything he could, whatever he was allowed of the boy and even when the shock of those harsh screams wore off, he no longer felt tired.

Scrubbing a hand through his dark hair, he padded softly through his dark house, familiar enough with its layout that he didn't even need the weak silver light spilling in through some of the windows. The floorboards creaked under his feet as the small sliver of the moon hanging on the other side of the windows in the dark sky followed him in his trek towards the kitchen. In his quest to find something that would aid in soothing the younger man, he had brought the boy warm chamomile tea one night, hoping he would at least take some kindness from Roy. First he had tried warm water with honey then an assortment of other teas which he had purchased at the advice of his Lt. but none of them seemed to make any difference, remaining untouched on the little table beside the blonde's bed the next morning. The older man had been nearly at wits end, desperate for something when once morning he had gone into the guest bedroom that he had now come to think of as Ed's and found the mug waiting for him completely empty. That had been the night that was the first time of no reoccurring dreams and ever since then he had been bringing that particular tea.

Not to say it worked every time, because it didn't. Sometimes Ed wouldn't let him bring it to him or he just wouldn't drink it. Still, it made the Colonel feel like he wasn't completely useless. Now he rummaged through the dark kitchen, fumbling slightly for a clean mug and putting on the tea pot. The house was still quiet as he listened to the water beginning to heat inside the ceramic pot on the stove, leaning one hip against the countertop as he waited. As of yet, he couldn't hear anything from down the hall but sooner or later that was bound to change. There was a heaviness to the air he noticed always accompanied the few last moments of quiet, as if the atmosphere was picking up on the shadows lurking in the blonde's mind. Maybe it was his own dread or maybe it was Ed projecting his terror but whatever it was, he could nearly feel the invisible hands, tugging at his limbs as if they could drag him towards the boy's room.

Just as he was pouring the hot water into the mug, absently studying the way a ray of faint silver light teased the tiles on the walls, a wail whipped through the quiet. The sharp sound was like a set of claws, raking through the heavy stillness like it was rice paper, tearing it to shreds. Even though he had been expecting it since he had awoken, Roy still jerked in surprise, slopping the hot water over the countertops. Upon the heels of the scream came a loud shout as if Ed was trying to ward someone away with little success. He had been listening to this for almost a month and a half and the sounds the blond made never got any easier to bear. Hands trembling, he quickly added milk and enough sugar to make his teeth spin to the steaming mug (how Ed could drink his tea so sweet was beyond him) before snatching it up and walking quickly back through the house.

The door that separated him and the younger alchemist was a blank face offering nothing as he paused before it, staring at it as if the solid surface would turn transparent enough for him to see through to the other side. How he wanted to just turn the doorknob and let himself in, to sooth his hands through blond locks he knew felt like individual strands of silk, to whisper nonsense words into the shadows of the room so that his voice might banish them. Instead, he turned his back and slid to the floor, settling the mug next to his hip. All he could do now was wait.

Every scream and sob and moaning, keening cry of distress pierced his heart until he had his hands balled into fists and pressed against his ears while leaning his forehead against his upraised knees. No matter how many times he had to do this, it never got any easier. Some nights he was less affected than others but tonight it seemed to be particularly bad. Maybe because it had been so long that this was happening and he could find no way to stop it but before he knew it, he was breathing hard into the material of his pajamas, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. A heavy weight crushed his chest, making it difficult to breathe, pulse racing in rage and frustration as his fingernails bit into the skin of his palms. Fuck, fuck…why? Why did this happen? Why him? Why did it have to be him? He's amazing, perfect, beautiful and they broke him…why him?? The force of his thoughts practically clawed at the barriers of his mind, bubbling up in his throat so that he had to bite on his tongue to keep them locked away. Ed sobbed on the other side of the door, voice becoming rough from the abuse. Tonight was one of the bad nights.

"Damn it," but his own voice was drowned out by another scream and the tears flooded over, spilling down his pale cheeks. He wondered as he huddled against the single barrier that kept him from wrapping himself around the smaller alchemist, would this ever go away or would they both be doomed to relive this agony over and over again, with him helpless against it and Ed caught up in the throes of it?

He wasn't sure when he noticed the change in the blonde's voice, though by now he was so attuned to it, many times his body reacted before he knew what was going on. The screams had finally died down, the sounds changing to gasping sobs, announcing Ed had finally managed to pull himself free. Taking a deep breath and scrubbing at his damp cheeks with his forearm, he picked up the mug of tea and stood, knocking softly on the door. Sometimes the answer came right away, others he was made to wait for with bated breath. His heart beat furiously in his throat as he willed the boy to let him in this time, biting on his bottom lip and holding his breath all the while.

"Come in," the two words made his whole body sag in relief before he pushed the door open, letting the shadows envelop him as he stepped into the room. He had offered to get Ed a nightlight, thinking it might help keep some of the darkness at bay but the boy had just laughed at him, gold eyes bemused as he stated quite bluntly that it wasn't the dark he was afraid of. Now he had to strain his eyes to see the figure sitting back against the pillows on the bed, the air slightly stale as if the dreams had indeed leaked out into the room.

"Hey. I brought you some of that tea," for some reason the late hour made him feel like he needed to be quiet or he would break apart the night that hovered around his shoulders with his voice. There was a soft rustle of cloth and a loud sniff as he caught the blond rubbing his face against the comforter. It was almost cute how even now Ed was embarrassed to be caught crying. Roy never once even gave a hint that he noticed, though how he could not was impossible, as the dim lighting his eyes were slowly getting used to picked up on the shimmering, silvery tears clinging to the skin below the blonde's eyes. Slowly approaching the bed and careful not to make any sudden movements, he placed the mug on the night table before moving away again.

"Thanks," the husky voice was a mere rasp, making him wince in sympathy. At least tonight Ed let him in. Most of the time, when the dreams were particularly bad was when Ed completely ignored his presence. As the boy reached for the mug and took tentative sips, he wished he could just lean over, just once, and run his fingers through the soft hair and wipe away the cooling tears. He could touch the boy during the day, fleeting, comforting touches that the younger man often came seeking out but at night, their world was a very different place. Running distracted fingers through his own hair as if that would still the longing, he took another step back towards the door.

"If you're okay, I'll just—" but then something happened that hadn't before, something that brought his entire being to a complete stand still. Ed's voice cut him off, the words nearly inaudible but so full he nearly lost himself in them.

"Please, wait…" Roy held his breath and stared through the shadows, wishing he could penetrate the darkness so as to see the exact shape of the expression on the younger man's face. Instead all he could see were the places where he knew the color gold burned so fiercely, eye sockets black as pitch, "I don't…do you think that, maybe, you could stay, just for tonight?" it was what he had been wishing for, hoping for, aching for and a warmth spiked through his body so that even his fingers and toes tingled in anticipation. The whole thing could end up terrible and they both knew it. The knowledge hung between them like a solid wall and he could just make out the way the younger alchemist trembled, as if the Colonel would refuse him. But even if it should end with him in the hospital when Ed woke up from another dream to find himself not alone in his bed, he knew he would never deny the boy anything, not even this. Especially not this.

"Yes," he breathed, "If that's what you want," and he made his way back over to the bed, pausing at the edge. Here he could see a little more of Ed's face but there was no fear or trepidation in the sharp features. There was only hope burning there. The boy shifted over, giving him enough room to join him on the bed, propping himself up on the pillows. They stared at one another in the darkness, the fact that they were alone together in a bed not lost between them. But that wasn't what this was about and he just waited, letting Ed do what he needed. Finally the boy sighed, glancing away and plucking at the comforter with his mismatched fingers. Cool metal gleamed in the weak moonlight.

"Sorry. I wouldn't ask but I can't take these dreams anymore and I thought that, maybe, if I wasn't alone, they might…I don't know. I just…I don't want to be alone," Roy swallowed past the lump in his throat, reminiscent of the tears that had assaulted him only moments ago. Slowly, as if he was trying to coax a skittish animal, he lifted his hand towards the boy's face, pausing long enough for the nod of consent before sinking his fingers into the tangled fall of blond hair. It was soft and damp with sweat and so perfect he had to close his eyes against the surge of emotion.

"Please, don't. This is fine," better than fine but the words caught and he just sifted his fingers through the golden strands, feeling Ed relaxing into his touch. There was a soft, almost relived sigh before the blond shifted down into the bed once more. Yet instead of using his own pillow to rest his head on, he shuffled over to where the older man lounged, pressing his head into his thigh.

"I wonder how many times I'm going to have to say thank you to you," he heard the boy whisper as he continued to stroke his shoulder length hair. Heat curled through him like a contented cat, and he stared down at the lump in the covers that was Ed, shocked at the amount of trust the boy was willing to put into him. A slender hand curled into the material of his sleeping pants down near his knee as if the younger man was trying to convince himself this was real. The heavy air had eased somewhat, as if the nightmares had been banished by the sudden change in routine and he tipped his head back, blinking blurrily at the ceiling. Suddenly he was tired, a different kind of heaviness pulling at his limbs as he marveled over the comforting weight of Ed's head resting in his lap. He would no doubt wake with a crick in his neck and this could still all go horribly wrong should Ed dream again but he couldn't leave now if the house were to fall down around his ears. Hope was blazing through him like a beacon, its fierce light burning away some of the uselessness and despair. The warm breaths ghosting over his leg evened out, peace suffusing their air and banishing the staleness left behind from bad dreams.

"You don't ever have to say thank you," he whispered to into the silence as he too drifted off and wondered if he dreamed the way the grip on his pajamas tightened. He would stay despite his worries and the knowledge that they still had a long way to go before Ed's wounds had healed into scars. He would stay even if the boy never healed. He would stay because he was slowly, irrevocably falling in love.

That night, the blonde slept peacefully until morning.

...To be continued

Ah, I can't stop grinning like an idiot now. Excuse me while I go giggle like the mad little fangirl that I am...