I must have written this chapter at least six times. Ugh, it's still not to my liking, but I couldn't find the right words. Sorry for making you guys wait so long, but this is kind of the climax/midpoint of the story and I wanted it to be exactly how I was seeing it in my head. Blah.

This chapter is rated M for disturbing images, blood, death, and corpse-hugging. A little bit of Parental!RoyxEd, too. Oh, goody!

Roy froze, jaw falling open and a broken sob breaking out of his mouth. His eyes were lying, they had to be. As he stumbled across the small chunks of concrete scattered in the blood puddle, eyes locked on the scene in front of him, he caught himself praying, actually praying, that it was all a lie.

But it wasn't- that he knew the instant his knees connected with the floor, sending up a small spray of blood. Roy knelt next to the body, one hand extended hesitantly over it, trembling. He didn't want to touch, to be the one to find out if Ed was still alive or not.

His rational mind was telling him it was impossible; the amount of blood pooling around him was enough for a man much bigger than Ed to bleed to death. Not to mention that Ed was short two limbs, which would have cut down his blood volume even more…

Roy wondered how Ed ever managed to walk away from half the fights he did; the blonde was always covered in cuts and gashes that all bled freely.

The man shook his head firmly, forcing himself to focus on the present. If Ed was still alive (and he could be, the shrimp was too damn stubborn to die), he would need medical attention instantly, so no time to waste. He pulled the glove off his hand and gently placed it against Ed's neck, feeling for a pulse.

Nothing.

Roy bit back a moan- he couldn't lose it, not now- and moved to Ed's face, checking to see if by some freakish twist of science, the younger alchemist was still breathing.

Again, nothing.

He couldn't say that he wasn't expecting the worst. Edward's body had been… Roy stared helplessly at the corpse, mind floundering around for the proper word to describe it.

…Shredded. Yes, that was a good word to use. Lacerations covered Ed's flesh limbs, while the automail looked like it had gone through a garbage disposal. The metal limbs were reduced to practically nothing but the skeleton; the outer plates that gave the appendages shape were long gone, leaving the snapped wires spilling out on the floor randomly. The leg port had been torn halfway out, exposing- Roy's stomach flipped over and he swallowed heavily- the end of Ed's femur.

Apparently, Ed had taken a number of hits to the head; the normally golden blonde hair was now almost completely red with blood. There was a gash across his left eye, crusting it shut, along with a handful of cuts littered across his brow.

But the worst was Fullmetal's torso. Roy had seen plenty of painful ways to die, but this was definitely pretty high on the list. Ed's chest had practically been ripped open, the skin and muscles hanging off the body like ribbons in some places. Roy didn't look too hard, but it only took a glance to pick out what was more than likely Ed's stomach and liver, both pretty beat up-looking themselves. The ribcage was no better. Practically every rib was cracked or broken in some way, and the lungs were pierced in multiple places.

It was heart-wrenching to see Edward like that. The People's Alchemist, completely beaten and broken, taken down by some immortal ten-year-old kid that was really the oldest, strongest, of the Homunculi, Pride.

Wait, Pride. Where was Pride?

Roy jerked around, fumbling with his gloves, trying to get them back on as he surveyed the area. If he ever got his hands on that son of a bitch, he was going to char him and that damned Stone so much there wouldn't be enough ashes leftover to fill a matchbox.

His scanning proved fruitless and Roy ground his teeth together. Pride must have escaped, left Central. Didn't matter; he'd find him, if it took him the rest of his-

The thoughts stopped as his eyes fell on a small pile of dust a little way away from Edward's body. His eye twitched and Roy let out a laugh that was half a moan. Of course. Ed wouldn't die without taking a Homunculus with him. "They should have called you the Martyr Alchemist," Roy told the cold, blood-covered body quietly, rubbing a hand through his black hair.

He could practically see the scene as if it were unfolding in front of him. Pride grabbing Ed with those arms, wrapping them tightly, tight enough to crack ribs, around the blonde as Ed activated the circle around his neck. The struggle must have gone on for a while, for Ed to gain injuries like he had. Then somehow- Roy couldn't even begin to imagine how- Edward would have gotten close, just close enough to Pride to touch him with a finger, and blast the Homunculus apart. The recoil would have been enough for the arms around Ed's torso to shred his flesh like they did, and the alchemical winds would have flung the blonde to the ground, where he cracked his head on the ground hard enough to knock him unconscious and then bled to death.

Ed had to have been knocked out, or he would have done something, like what he had done to his impaling wound, to keep himself alive. He had too much to live for- Al, Winry, an actual future- to just let himself bleed out in the bowels of Central's sewers.

The realization of what had just happened hit Roy like a sledgehammer to the chest, and the next thing he knew, he had Ed's corpse pressed against his chest in a hug, his head buried in Edward's bloody hair. Roy didn't even notice he was crying until the blood began to wash out of Ed's hair, once again revealing its original gold color.

"I can't do anything right," Roy mumbled, almost like it was an apology. He heard a crack of thunder from outside and grimaced. Yes, he was useless in the rain, just like Hawkeye had told him all those years ago.

Years… Roy frowned. Had it really been so long since Scar had cornered Ed and blow his arm off? Back then, they hadn't even known about the Homunculi, their plan, anything. Roy was just a lazy womanizer who wanted to be the leader of Amestris, and Ed had just been an annoying, height-complexed brat who wanted to get his little brother's body back.

Damn. He felt old.

He shifted on the cement, Ed's body still cradled in his arms. His "soldier-mind" was starting to catch up with him and he glanced around. Where were Marco and Armstrong? How were they going to get Ed out of here without the press catching wind of it?

But the most important question made his gut twist painfully and he instinctively clutched Edward tighter. The very thought of the question made him shiver he swallowed nervously, glancing over his shoulder like an animal that was being hunted, but couldn't find the hunter.

What the bloody hell was he supposed to tell Alphonse?

"ROY! Dammit, where are you!?"

Roy's head jerked up at the call. "Over here!" he hollered back, not really sure where exactly "here" was. But whatever. He had a more pressing problem to mull over. The sound of approaching footsteps brought him out of his thoughts ("Sorry, Al. Pride shredded your brother to pieces." No, a little too blunt. "Al, your Brother had to go somewhere for a while." Definitely no; Al would see right through that…) He glanced up as Marco and Armstrong skidded to a halt, the latter almost tripping over the older doctor. They gawked at the scene; Armstrong looked ready to cry. Roy could only imagine what they looked like- him, holding Edward like he was just sleeping while the blonde continued to leak blood (there sure was a lot of the stuff) all over the place, and the little pile of ash a couple of feet away.

Marco found his voice first. "Roy, he's…?" the alchemist couldn't even get the word out as he pointed weakly at Ed's form.

Roy nodded stiffly and the last mental barricade broke. He didn't even realize that he still had any still up, but he let out a strangled, half-controlled sob and accidentally dropped Ed's body. The other two gasped loudly now that they could see the true extent of the damage. Armstrong did burst into tears this time, but Marco silently grit his teeth and bent to do an examination, being the doctor that he was.

Roy, meanwhile, was hunched over on the ground, staring blankly in the blood puddle left by Edward. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marco doing what he could to make Ed's body more presentable, which basically consisted of placing the shredded pieces of skin back over the torso. The doctor motioned for Armstrong to come over and whispered something to the larger alchemist. Armstrong turned to a hunk of rock and slammed his fist into it; there was a flash from the transmutation and the Strong Arm Alchemist slowly pulled a pale grey cloth and a couple of leather strips from the stone.

A body bag. And the belts to keep it wrapped.

Roy clenched his eyes shut and bit his bottom lip so hard it started to bleed. The red liquid dribbled off his chin and dropped steadily into pool already forming beneath him. Even though his eyes were closed, he could feel the blood seeping into his gloves, where it was slowly cooling off and hardening. The blood wasn't even his, and yet he was covered in it; his blue military uniform was almost purple from it.

He could hear the rustling of cloth and some muttered instructions from a couple of feet away, but he didn't open his eyes to look. He didn't want to; he had seen it all already.

His knees were starting to throb from kneeling on the cold concrete floor of the Central sewers, but he didn't shift his position the slightest. There was the sound of boots walking across the cement ground towards him, where they stopped a foot away; Roy could practically feel the person staring at him.

"Roy. Get up, we need to go."

The alchemist's only response was to clench his fists on the ground.

The person sighed angrily and muttered something. "Mustang, pull yourself together! We have to get him out of here and-"

Roy didn't open his eyes when he cut the speaker off. "And what? Take him to Knox?" he spat angrily. "Too late for that, Marco."

The older alchemist was glaring at Roy, he knew it. "We can't run the risk of the military being the ones to do the autopsy! They'll raise questions about the wounds, but Dr. Knox will keep it quiet and fudge the exact cause of death for us."

The Flame Alchemist let out a bark of humorless laughter. "Why? So the military brass can't demote him or something?"

He hadn't been expecting the slap that came flying across his cheek. Roy fell back on his rear, staring Marco in the face, jaw hanging open in surprise. Marco looked livid and ready to rip his head off. "Colonel Mustang, you are an ass," he said in classic military style, complete with a sharp salute.

Roy couldn't think of a suitable retort for that. Instead, he averted his eyes to the ground and exhaled loudly. "Trust me, Marco, I know that."

Silence stretched out between them. Suddenly, a hand entered Roy's field of vision. Surprised, he glanced up at Marco, who gave him a half-hearted smile. "Come on. We've got to get your leg fixed up, too."

Roy accepted the hand and, a little unsteadily, rose to his feet. He made sure to keep his back towards Armstrong, but Marco shook his head. "It's okay; he's…covered." Roy stiffened at the words and went back to chewing madly on his bottom lip. Marco looked like he was ready to slap him again, but thought better of it. "Roy, listen to me. You're going to have to face it eventually-"

"'Face it'? I have faced it, Marco! I'm the one who found him! But do you honestly expect me to just get over the fact that Edward's dead and gone?!"

Marco looked surprised at the outburst, but didn't say anything in retaliation. Instead he nodded to Armstrong. "I think you're going to have to carry him out," he said somberly, glancing at the wrapped lump over Roy's shoulder.

Armstrong rumbled in agreement and began to pace over to collect the body.

"No," Roy growled, turning around to face Armstrong, who was bent over Ed, prepared to pick him up. He stalked over, ignoring the blood stains that had already formed on the fabric.

"But your leg!" Marco protested, grabbing Roy's shoulder as the Flame Alchemist gathered the body into his arms once again.

"Screw my leg. I'll carry him out," Roy said firmly, turning on his heel and trudging out of the lair, past the dislodged doors and down through the sewers. Marco was close on his heels, muttering darkly and casting nervous glances over his shoulder. Armstrong had taken the lead, obviously intent on acting as the scout, in case there was something, like another Homunculus, waiting in the wings.

They made their way through the doors that led back to the streets and Marco groaned. The sun was rising, breaking through the scattered rain clouds; it looked to be about five in the morning.

So much for sneaking back in.

"We were down there for four hours?" Armstrong asked quietly as he gauged the time for himself.

"Seems so," Marco groaned in reply, rubbing a hand across his face.

"I FOUND THEM! YOUNG MASTER, COME QUICK!"

The three jerked around at the screech to see Ran Fan at the entrance of the ally, eyes wide, mouth still open from her call. She was staring at them, but her focus was on the bundle in Roy's arms.

Roy knew she was too smart to wonder what it was; she had put two and two together.

There was the sound of at least a dozen footsteps running towards them and Roy bit his already-chewed-up lip again. The crowd of people that had been staying at the Hughes', except for Gracia and Elysia, skidded to a halt behind Ran Fan.

The silence was so thick and the stares so hard and shocked that Roy thought he would go insane. Somebody had to do something before he snapped.

Somebody did, but it was the last person Roy had wanted. Al pushed his way past Ran Fan, eyes locked on Roy and the body bag. The look on Al's face made Roy want to break down and throw himself at the younger Elric's feet to beg for forgiveness. Al looked ready to cry, scream, and blow something up all at the same time. Confusion and disbelief were mixed in, along with an undercurrent of utter, raw agony.

Al stopped a couple of feet away, as if waiting. He wanted an explanation, but Roy couldn't find any words. Despite his musings, he never had figured out what to tell Al. Instead, he quietly bowed his head, breaking eye contact.

Al let out a roar of fury and Roy looked up in time to see the young Elric transmute a pipe into a very deadly-looking sword and charged.

Roy didn't move to avoid the attack, and as Al leaped for his throat, sword flashing, he closed his eyes; he couldn't win a fight against a pissed-off, sorrow-crazed Elric. He was screwed, and he deserved it.

Mmm, angst for dinner. That was pretty morbid and disturbing if I do say so myself. Um, anyway. About three more chapters, I think. See you then!