This took forever, I know, and I apologize. I was debating between two short parts, and one long part for a while, and eventually decided on this. Hopefully the fact that it's twice as long as all my others will make up for it?
Important Author's Note: This part contains two scenes of yaoi (malexmale) neither of them particularly graphic, but this is your warning. If you don't read anything like that, you can skip those parts, but don't message me saying I never warned you they were coming, 'cause here it is. Okie? Thank you. Have a nice day.
Disclaimer: Still don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. I bought 4, 5 and 6 of the manga a couple weeks back, but I don't think that counts.
Edward stumbled from the bar, his flesh forearm firmly in the grasp of his merciless tormentor. Each time he attempted to draw breath he choked, and he was all too aware of his heart thudding rapidly beneath his ribcage. Barely an hour had passed since he had looked into the dominating crystal eyes of the man he loathed, and the faint tracks of tears were still present upon his bruised cheeks. His heart still ached with disgust, directed at himself, and himself alone. He wasn't strong enough to fight any more. He was pathetically emaciated, bones jutting through flesh so drastically they seemed about to puncture it any minute, and he had given up on alchemy the night he deserted the one person he lived for.
His eyes downcast, he obediently followed a step behind the latest addition to his inner turmoil, who could freeze him in his steps with a simple glance, and cause his breath to catch in his throat, doing his utmost to prevent himself from thinking of what else could possibly be done to destroy the fragile amount of sanity Frank had allowed him to keep. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his automail hand, fingers tucked into his belt loop with surprising nonchalance, though they were shivering violently. He gave a bitter smile, and kicked out at the sidewalk. He couldn't even disguise his fear any more. Perhaps if he was that weak, he deserved this.
He felt the grip around his forearm tighten a split-second before he was wrenched into the once comforting darkness of an alleyway, and he collapsed to his knees, grimacing as the bruises that Frank would not allow to fade made harsh contact with the ground. He drew breath sharply through gritted teeth to prevent himself from whimpering, and his fists clenched so tightly that his nails drew blood from his palms. Once he had managed to regulate his short gasps of breath, and the sharp twinges of pain were under some form of control, he raised his head.
The instant he caught sight of those malicious, dark amber eyes, he felt the wrath of a standard issue State Military boot against his jaw, and he fell backwards, groaning quietly. He attempted to move the recipient of his latest injury, and found the bone cracked at the slightest motion, causing a sharp slash of pain to hit him. He counted his blessings. This way he wouldn't be able to scream even if he wanted to.
From above him, he tutted. "Pathetic."
Gathering his courage, Edward drew his shaking body once more into an upright position, and managed to choke out, "Kimbley...Why...are you-"
For the third time in less than a minute, he found his fragile body collapsing to the ground, though this time the sharp explosion of pain was centered in his chest. He swallowed back a pained response; even the tiniest of sounds was indication that he was beaten, that he really was as defenseless as he believed himself to be, and averted his gaze to the figure who still towered above him. The vicious smirk upon his lips drove uncomfortable prickles down his spine.
The child was exhausted, and even if the concept of retaliation wouldn't result in punishment (which it would. It always did) both his body and mind were much too weak to even attempt it. Instead, he simply watched the newly reinstated military man remove his jacket with a faint expression of intrigue, flinching as it hit the ground beside him, and causing the Lieutenant Colonel to give a cruel laugh.
"We have a deal, kid," he said simply, unfastening his belt with several metallic clinks that caused the child to flinch again. "Looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other."
He raised both of his hands, ensuring that Edward had a clear view of the transmutation circles upon them, and he allowed his gaze to fall to the ground beside him once again, in silent understanding of the unspoken threat. His eyelids flickered to an almost closed position as he forced himself to draw deep, slow breaths in some attempt at preparation, and his insides writhed as he caught the distinct, now familiar sound of a variety of clothing articles hitting the floor.
With another, sharp kick he was forced onto his front, grimacing as his recently sustained bruised, and broken ribs, courtesy of a certain Frank Archer, made contact with the uneven concrete. All too used to this treatment, he did not even react as he felt a pair of hands at his hips, reaching around to raise the lower half of his body, and unfasten his belt with ease that implied he had done this a thousand times before. His leather pants were dragged slowly down his thighs and thrown to the ground, before his boxers quickly met the same fate beside them. He tightly closed his eyes, his breathing hitching very slightly in his throat.
What could only have been minutes seemed like an eternity, though Edward did not make a single sound. His bleeding fingertips where nails had once resided clutched frantically at the ground, and his bottom lip had split open, filling his mouth with the unpleasant coppery taste of blood, but still he held his silence. His body completely limp, he did not even move when Kimbley decided he was satisfied, and got to his feet, a smirk upon his lips, and breathing ragged enough to quickly induce nausea.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Edward could not even blink as his dull mind registered the familiar voice from somewhere in the direction he vaguely recalled to contain the mouth of the alleyway, and out of the corner of his blurred, bloodshot eye he saw Kimbley turn towards the voice, that loathsome smirk broadening as he deciphered the identity of the person who had caught him.
"You were right," he said. "The kid's almost too easy."
With that, the two companions swiftly left the child to succumb to the violent shaking of his own tortured body, that smirk upon Kimbley's lips never once faltering. Only when the footsteps had long since died did he draw his aching limbs closer, his arms wrapping themselves around his knees, and he whimpered, gasping for breath that refused to be drawn into his protesting lungs. The tears stung his eyes as he fought for oxygen, though as the seconds passed, his panic only increased, and his already limited supply of the precious gas diminished rapidly.
The brick walls that surrounded him seemed to be closing in, suffocating him, and he whimpered once again, still frantically attempting to draw breath. Just as he was certain he could survive no longer, that his own body had failed him yet again, and given both Kimbley and Archer the satisfaction of breaking him, his eyes flickered closed, and he fell completely limp, pray now only to the demons that haunted him within the depths of his own mind.
This was the first time he had slept in months, and even unconscious, he knew he could not escape.
--
Edward awoke as suddenly and sharply as though somebody had been shaking him, and despite how he was struggling to focus his eyes, he knew perfectly well that he was not alone. His position had not altered since Kimbley had cast him aside like some useless piece of trash, which meant that he was gazing blankly at a patch of blurred concrete and despite his best efforts at remaining stationary, the familiar twinges of pain in the lower half of his body were still present, earning a small grimace.
"Edward."
After several moments of careful deliberation, he realized he recognized the soft voice from somewhere to his left, though it did not belong to either of his captors. Curious in a strange, almost masochistic sense, he managed to rest the entirety of his weight on his automail arm, and draw his limbs into something that vaguely resembled an upright position. Breathing harshly, he tilted his head.
Sitting, cross-legged beside him was a tall, dark-haired figure, coal colored eyes narrowed in thought, and lips twisted into a crooked smile that could only be invoked from the usually stoic Lieutenant Colonel following an encounter with a vast amount of alcohol. Their gazes met: hollow amber colliding with unguarded onyx, and the smile faded, eyes suddenly reflecting concern.
"You were crying," his voice was barely a whisper. "In your sleep."
Instantly, Edward reached up with his right hand and brushed away any tears that might have dared betray his portrayal of indifference, flinching as the harsh metal grazed his already injured cheek. Sighing, he dropped his hand, his gaze firmly fixed upon the ground between himself and the Colonel.
"No I wasn't," he muttered, though he knew his denial was pointless. "What are you doing here?"
Acting as though he hadn't spoken, or perhaps he simply had not heard him, Roy allowed his eyes to pass over the child's tear-stained cheeks, and bruised hips. "Why are you here?" he asked. "And what're your pants doing over there?"
He pointed towards them, and Edward turned in the direction of where he was gesturing, spotting both his leather pants, and boxers crumpled in a heap where Kimbley had left them. He glanced up at Roy once again, too aware of his immeasurable exhaustion to allow any humiliation to take it's place. The obvious caring in his eyes stunned him, though he did not voice it.
"What does it matter?" he murmured softly. "You're drunk. You won't remember this tomorrow."
Reaching out, Roy gently rested his hand upon Edward's flesh one, surprised when he did not flinch, or attempt to banish the contact. "You're hurt."
"You're still drunk." he retorted coldly.
He sighed impatiently, too used to the child's attempt at defiance, though unable to decipher why, of all times, he had decided to affect it now. "Let me help you, Edward," he whispered. "Tell me who did this to you."
"I think you should go home," Edward replied monotonously. "You know how you get when you've had too much Scotch. At least, I still remember you dropping an alleyway on my-"
He cut himself off sharply as Roy raised a hand as though about to strike him, and he tightly closed his eyes in preparation of the attack that never came. Coming to his senses a split-second before it was too late, he allowed his hand to fall to the ground once again, and he silently cursed himself for even considering harming the boy, when it was more than obvious he was injured enough already.
He sighed heavily. "C'mon. Let's get you out of here."
Immediately, Edward's eyelids flickered open, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I'm just fine here."
"I don't care," Roy replied, with his usual tone of arrogance. "Put your clothes on, and come with me. Now."
The unspoken "Or else." was perfectly evident to them both as Edward, recognizing the tone that Frank so often employed when in his presence, gave the tiniest of winces, and rested both his flesh, and metal hands upon the ground, using them to wrench his shivering body to his unsteady feet. Roy noticed he was favoring the automail limb as he stood, since it was more capable of holding his weight, and he could not bring himself to respectfully alter his gaze as the child stooped down to retrieve his clothing, revealing another series of bruises, and scratches upon his lower back that seemed to be from a set of fingernails.
He was clearly pained by the slightest movement, judging by the grimace, and sharp exhale of breath as he stepped into his attire, and Roy's eyes softened at the sight. He did not understand how someone could inflict such agony upon a creature of incomparable beauty, and feel not even a trace of remorse. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles cracked. He may have harmed the child against his better judgment, but he loathed himself for it, even with the drink that was supposed to wash away his sins. The person who had done this to Edward, tortured him, created such fear in someone so strong, did not deserve his life.
Edward turned to face him once he was clothed, both hands shoved into his pockets, and eyes fixed upon the ground. Roy knew immediately that he was forcing any emotion from his eyes, refusing to allow himself to respond to whatever he was to do to him, just as he insisted upon doing with the man who tortured him so. Sympathy and desire to bring back the Edward Elric he had once known overrode any sense of reason, and he quickly closed the gap between himself and the child, removing his navy military jacket as he did so. Upon reaching him, he draped it over his shoulders, and slipped an arm around him to assist his uneven gait.
"Can you walk?" he asked softly.
"I don't need your help." the child replied coldly, though when he did not push him away, Roy understood that he accepted, and appreciated the contact that differed so greatly from what he usually received.
The journey that usually only lasted five minutes, even in the various states of intoxication that Roy often found himself succumbing to at this time, took almost twice as long in Edward's company, since his legs were shaking too violently to be of much use to him. For the first time in living memory, Roy did not feel even the slightest sense of impatience as he assisted the child to his place of residence. Instead he merely smiled fondly, if slightly lopsidedly, down at him, though quickly averted his gaze as Edward looked up at him, for reasons he was not sure even he understood.
Fumbling for the set of keys he was certain he kept on his person at all times, Roy managed to unlock the door, and support his companion until they reached the couch, where he collapsed rather ungracefully, pulling the jacket closer around his still violently shivering shoulders. His eyes flickered to a close immediately, though Roy understood that it would be several hours before he felt secure enough to fall into a fitful slumber, if he managed to do so at all. Clearly the child had endured more than he realized, but he was not about to request he relive it. Not now.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked softly. "For the pain?"
"I'm fine," Edward replied, though his voice was strained. "Just...just go. Please."
Nodding, Roy swiftly left the room, and crossed the hallway to ease open his bedroom door, certain that if Frank was not on the couch with his nose in one of his Alchemy books, as he often seemed to do these days, he would have retired to bed. He raised his eyebrows in confusion as he realized the bed had not been slept in. Massaging his forehead, he decided to think nothing of it. He took plenty of midnight strolls, coupled with several detours to the local bars on a regular basis, after all. What was to suggest Frank would not feel inclined to do the same?
Turning on his heel, he silently made his way into the kitchen, and set about pouring himself a glass of Scotch, grimacing as he noticed the bottle he had been drinking from earlier had been emptied, and was now sitting atop the overflowing trash can, glimmering faintly in the light. If he was going to keep a close watch on Edward, he needed to stay awake. He knew of only one way to do that.
He was unsure of how much time had elapsed before he caught the faint sound of a whimper coming from the living room. He was dimly aware that he had consumed three glasses of Scotch in that space of time, or was it four? Either way, that wasn't much of an indication, since he often alternated between drinking quickly and slowly, to prevent himself from disconnecting completely from his surroundings until he was absolutely certain it was what he wanted.
Sighing, he abandoned his latest glass, and got to his feet, struggling to make out where the doorway between the kitchen and the living room was. Eventually locating it, he made his way across the room, and into the next, where he immediately caught sight of Edward, his eyes tightly closed, teeth grit, and the occasional piteous moan escaping his slightly parted lips.
"No," he whimpered, a single tear falling from his eye. "Please, I...I'm s-sorry, I didn't...please..."
Suddenly aware that he could not tear his gaze from the writhing child upon his couch, Roy steadied himself with one hand against the door frame. He had seen this vulnerability that he often forgot existed on precious few occasions, and only now did he understand. There was something addictive in that terror, something that drew him in and refused to allow him to leave. Something that, abandoning any sense of morality that he had possessed what was perhaps only minutes ago, he had to have.
With a gasp, Edward's eyelids snapped open, and he stared blankly up at the ceiling, his flesh hand resting on his chest, directly above his thudding heart, and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Biting them back, he turned his head, and started upon catching sight of Roy standing in the doorway, his onyx eyes still fixed upon him. He swallowed hard as he recognized the expression of faint intrigue, almost amusement, with a certain longing behind it that caused his heart to pound again.
"Roy?"
Smiling comfortingly, Roy walked towards him and took a seat at the very edge of the couch, silently marveling at how perfect his name sounded coming from those bruised lips. Edward's body had gone completely rigid as he gazed up at the taller figure, his eyes wide and unblinking. Roy wasn't even certain that he was breathing. Reaching down, he gently rested a hand upon his cheek, and he flinched.
"Wh...what're you-"
"Shh," he whispered. "You were dreaming, that's all. Just a bad dream."
He troubled to keep the stability of his voice, ensuring that no words were slurred or incoherent. The small, crooked smile never once left his lips, though Edward's suspicion remained. He knew this game. He wished to God, or whatever it was he prayed to that he didn't, but he did. It could so easily have been Frank smiling down at him. That tone of voice was horrifically familiar; the barely contained lust in his eyes was identical to what he had seen staring down at him every night for the past six months. This was just like all the other times, with only one, vital difference:
He was going to break.
"He's a lucky man, whoever he is," Roy was murmuring now, his fingers delicately tracing the child's cheek and jaw bone. "There are plenty of people in this world who'd do anything, anything to have someone like you."
Pausing for a moment, presumably to draw his courage, Edward managed to choke out, "Are...are you one of them, Roy?"
"I am," he admitted, without shame. "I had you once, Edward, and I let you go. You remember, don't you?"
Of course I remember, he wanted to scream, though of course the words did not manage to reach his mouth. Instead, he merely dropped his gaze, recalling perfectly how he had found himself pressed against the wall, Roy's lips upon his, barely moments before he had pushed him aside, refused him, and been forced to accept the consequences. He gave the tiniest incline of his head, which Roy seemed to accept as confirmation.
He smiled. "I won't make that mistake again. I promise."
Edward had to fight back the sudden urge to give a bitter smile. He had no reason to doubt that Roy would make up for the lost opportunity six months ago, especially when he moved closer, his grip upon the child's jaw tightening more than he was aware. He barely had a chance to grit his teeth, forcing his usual indifference, before a pair of lips crashed against his own, and hands grasped his shoulders, preventing even the slightest of movements.
With the familiar, though now torn and dirt-covered, scarlet coat tossed aside, black shirt, leather pants, and boxers shortly accompanying it, Roy gazed down at the child that had fascinated him from the moment he had first laid eyes upon him, seeing the full extent of what had been inflicted upon him for the first time. His frail, pallid body was covered in bruises of varying stages of healing, coupled with deep gashes and scars that seemed to be from some type of blade. As his fingers softly caressed each of these memories, these keepsakes, Edward could not help but smile.
"Go ahead," he murmured, eyes lightly closed. "There's nothing more you can do."
Roy tutted, gaze flickering towards his tear-stained cheeks. "Edward," he sighed. "If you're going to pretend like you don't care, don't fall asleep."
The boy's surprise was evident as those amber eyes flickered open once again for the merest second, and Roy smiled upon catching a hint of that vulnerability that he attempted so furiously to keep locked away deep inside of himself. Leaning forward, a hand cupping his bruised cheek, Roy pressed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, and was not surprised to feel him flinch beneath him. For a moment, he felt something, something that perhaps resembled guilt, and a tiny voice in the very depths of his mind whispered, "What are you doing now, Mustang? Can't you see he's hurt enough already without you?" though it faltered, its protests silenced as he pulled back, and met those hypnotizing eyes once again.
Aware only of the tired, defeated expression as Edward gazed up at him, and completely oblivious to his own movements, he clumsily tore off his attire with shaking fingers, where they hit the floor alongside Edward's, and the military jacket that had been discarded at some point during the child's nightmare. Dropping his hands to grip the shoulders that ached to escape their prison of flesh, he straddled his waist, and crashed his lips to his once again, though this time he did not react. He simply closed his eyes, relishing the comforting notion that within minutes, this routine would be over, and he would finally be left alone to pick up the pieces.
"Look at me."
He spoke softly as he slipped his hands behind Edward's knees and parted his legs, which were in a similar fragile and bruised state to the rest of his body, though the order was undeniable. The child swallowed hard before complying, and when he forced his eyelids apart, Roy immediately saw the fear that he was doing his utmost to disguise, and the tears that longed to fall. Without any regard whatsoever to the child's current injuries, and completely unable to control his desires, Roy raised his body, and roughly entered him.
Edward cried out, despite how he attempted to force his usual stoic demeanor, and he tightly closed his eyes, biting down on his bottom lip to prevent the tears from cascading down his pallid cheeks. As the pain intensified with each passing minute, he couldn't help but whimper pitifully, agony and disgust increasing as he caught the faint gasps and moans of the man he had sacrificed everything to protect.
He found himself slipping out of consciousness several times, overcome with pain he never should have had to endure. Aware only of his vision blurring, and the walls seemingly attempting to crush him, Roy collapsing upon him with another loud gasp, desperately trying to catch his breath, passed unnoticed. What he did feel, though would later surmise that it was a mere hallucination, was a pair of arms wrapping themselves around his waist, and several tears falling to the bare, bruised skin of his chest.
"Edward," came a choked whisper. "I...I'm s-...I'm sorry..."
Attempting a smile, though it appeared as more of a grimace, Edward could manage only two words before he finally passed out, and did not awaken. "I know."
--
Returning to consciousness with a gasp, Roy sat bolt upright, and immediately regretted it as his stomach revolted, and his head began to pound. Tightly closing his eyes in protest of the vicious sunlight that flickered through the curtains on the opposite wall, he remained perfectly stationary for several moments, until the headache retreated enough allow the cold light of morning to penetrate his bloodshot eyes.
He knew, without thinking, that something was wrong. He seemed to be sitting on the floor, though he had no recollection of how he had gotten there, and his skin prickling uncomfortably implied that his clothing was not present. Deciding that his best hope of banishing the familiar ache was to stagger into the kitchen and pray that he had not yet drained his entire liquor cabinet, he sighed and stumbled to his unsteady feet, clutching at the couch beside him for support.
Slowly opening his eyes, his entire body froze as he realized he was standing directly opposite a half-dressed blond, who was determinedly staring at the carpet, and wrenching on a pair of tight leather pants with some difficulty. Roy simply stared at him, his eyes narrowed in thought, but despite how frantically he wracked the four corners of his mind, he could conjure nothing as to what had happened to earn the company of the blond.
Pulling his scarlet trench coat over his shaking shoulders, Edward looked up at him for the first time. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "About what happened. You were drunk, and I..."
Bewildered, Roy furrowed his brow. "What're you talking about, Edward?"
"Forget it," he shook his head, as though in desperation. "Just forget it."
Without another word, Edward turned swiftly on his heel and swept from the house, a limp in his step that the Colonel could hardly fail to notice. Confused by the abrupt departure, and the child's presence there in the first place, he collapsed to the couch, raking his fingers anxiously through his hair as the headache returned with a vengeance. The child had lied to him, he knew that, he had sensed it in the dismissive tone he had adopted when he spoke. The question was why: Why would he want him to believe he -Edward- had taken advantage of him?
Sighing, he got to his feet once again, and headed towards the bathroom, deciding to ignore how his legs were protesting his weight, and shaking dangerously beneath him. Stepping into the shower moments later, and feeling the comforting flow of water ease his aching muscles and mind, he dismissed whatever uncomfortable notions were plaguing him, regarding exactly what had happened last night. Sooner or later, it would come to him. Perhaps in the dead of night as his insomnia reared its ugly head, or even as he sipped the disgusting coffee that Central Headquarters had to offer, ignoring yet another momentous stack of paperwork.
Biting down on his bottom lip, he closed his eyes. He had never known Edward's voice so empty before, or his normally defiant amber eyes so hollow. Whatever happened, whatever he had done, he wasn't certain he wanted to know, after all.