Edward read the article and then reread it, bile rising to burn the back of his throat; his hands were shaking as he stared at the words. She'd killed herself. Her family had all thought that she was really happy, that she was coping with everything really well, but according to the article the girl had been seeing a therapist, and he had mentioned that she wasn't sleeping because of the nightmares, that she had spoken about wanting it to all end. She had shot herself the next day in her family home.

Edward dropped the newspaper back down onto the table, next to his glass of untouched alcohol; his vision blurred with tears as he pushed himself to his feet and all but ran from the room. He couldn't cope with this, he needed air. Sneaking out of the back door was easy enough, and nobody tried to stop him so he clearly managed it without being seen. Part of him – a small, quiet voice in his mind – told him to stop; to turn around and go back to the bar, to go to his brother and Winry. He knew that he couldn't be alone in that moment, but the thought of being there surrounded by people made his chest tighten in fear. He needed to be alone, and yet knew that he couldn't be. That it was stupid to be alone.

Edward ran from the bar, not paying attention to where his feet were taking him. He ran until his lungs were burning, and his legs ached, and then he pushed himself to run further. Cara's face flashed behind his eyes. Cara's face, smiling down at Simon. Cara tending to his injuries. Cara cooking their meals, and cleaning the house. Cara being led away from the house as Roy and his team saved them. Cara at the hospital. Cara, Cara, Cara. Edward had failed her, just like he'd failed Simon, and Nina and Hughes.

Of course she wasn't fucking okay! How could she have been? She had been kidnapped and sold into slavery. While Hal hadn't abused her like he had Edward or Simon, she had suffered because of him regardless. She had seen the mess he'd left Edward and Simon in, had heard their suffering and had been forced to live in a constant state of fear. Terrified that she would do or say something wrong and that it would be her in the basement with a whip cracking against her back; her lying on the floor, blood pooling from her neck.

Edward stopped, doubling over as he vomited into the grass, his body trembling from the excertion. He had killed Simon, he had failed in protecting Nina and now Cara was dead because he hadn't thought to check on her. He'd suffered with her, he should have known that she would be struggling as much as he was, but he hadn't once thought about her. He was selfish, he had always known it, deep down, but this was a whole new level, even for him.

Edward stood up straight on shaky legs and rubbed the back of his flesh hand against his mouth, as he continued to let his feet carry him further away from the Madame's bar. His mind was a storm of thoughts. Thoughts of those that he had failed, of those that had suffered because of him, and he needed it to stop. He was so lost in the storm that he didn't notice the tears on his cheeks, or the people that watched as he walked past, casting worried glances his way. Edward stopped on a bridge, the glittering lights in the river catching his attention and he moved closer, leaning over the wall to watch as the city danced in the current of the river.

He hated feeling like this, he hated the hollow ache that consumed him, that filled his chest where his lungs and heart should be; the ache that stopped his breathing and made him wish he'd never been born. Perhaps, Cara was at peace now? Did she feel the same way? Edward hadn't considered it before, not really. He had always struggled on for Al, but his brother had Winry now. Everyone would be better off without him.

He brushed tears away from his cheeks as he climbed over the wall, watching the water below him. This would stop the agony inside him, this would stop the storm that ravaged his mind. He could do this, and fail everyone one last time, and then they would all be free of him. He'd never hurt them again, they could all be happy without him bringing such sin and ruin into their lives. Edward choked on a sob and shut his eyes, automail fingers digging into the wall as he committed himself to this. The last thought that went through his mind was of Roy confessing his love to him; and then the icy water surrounded him, stole his breath and the weight of his automail dragged him under.

"There! On the bridge!" Winry shouted, pointing towards Edward as the car turned the corner and Al's heart stopped. They had found that Edward had ran off and Al had seen the headline of the newspaper and knew that Ed would have freaked out about it. He'd blame himself, that was just what his brother did, so he was happy when the Madame didn't need asked to get people out looking for Edward. Winry and himself had went with her in her car as some of the girls went out on foot to search for him.

Al threw himself out of the car before it had fully stopped, his heart racing at the sight of his brother on the bridge, hanging onto the wall. "Edward!" His voice was quiet, too quiet. His fear froze him in place, what the hell was his brother doing? What was Edward thinking? Behind him, the car came to a stop and Al could hear the doors opening and closing as the Madame and Winry joined him. Winry's hand gripping his wrist as her breath was gasped in.

"What's he doing?" She asked softly, the tears she was forcing back were straining at her voice. "Al, he wouldn't? Would he?"

Al shook his head; Edward wouldn't be like this. Edward wouldn't leave them, surely? Didn't he know how much he was loved? Winry's hand slipped into his hand and he squeezed it as the Madame called out to his brother, but Edward either ignored them or didn't hear their calls. Alphonse rubbed at his eyes, drying the tears away and glaring at the back of his brother's head. "Brother!" He shouted, but Ed didn't respond. "Edward, please come down!"

Al took a step forward, and the moment he did it was like the world moved in slow motion. He saw every fraction of the seconds drag by as Edward let go of the wall, falling forward. He heard Winry's scream, and his own cry. He froze, his brain not understanding the information that it was being given but then he felt Winry's hand leave his and all of a sudden he was rushing forward, racing towards the wall, stumbling slightly in his haste to get there. He was already halfway over the wall when he was pulled back roughly and he knew, distantly, that the scream was his.

"Al! Alphonse stop it!" Winry sobbed into his back as he struggled against her. "You can't! You're too weak!" A hand – The Madame's – was placed firmly on his shoulder and Al knew that Winry was right. He was still recovering from being shot, but this was his brother. It was Edward! He needed to save him. His automail would drag him under and Ed had never learnt to swim and if they left him then he was going to die! Al sobbed, all the fight leaving him then as he dropped to his knees with a frustrated shout. He heard Chris talking to him, trying to get his attention but Al couldn't make sense of the words, none of them made any sense and he just stared at where his brother had been, his vision blurring with tears.

Too late, Alphonse noticed that Winry had left his side, and he watched in horror as she vaulted the wall, diving in after his brother. He raised his hands, covering his face as he broke down, curling up into himself as he sobbed. He could feel his heart breaking, and he was surprised that any air made it into his lungs at all. He had no sense of how long he'd sat there crying for, but too soon he was pulled to his feet, Chris filling his watery vision as she spoke to him. Alphonse just shook his head, not understanding her words and she huffed as she repeated them.

"She's got him. Get down onto the shore. I'm going to go find someone to get a doctor. Go to your brother."

Al blinked stupidly at her for a second, before he glanced in the direction of the river bank and there, beneath the light of the street lamps, two heads of wet blonde hair. He was moving before he knew what he was seeing, but his mind caught up as he reached Edward and Winry, and he dropped to his knees in the mud as he watched in horror as Winry performed chest compressions on his brother. Reaching out, Al took Edward's flesh hand in his own and blinded back the tears. His brother's skin was cold to touch and Al couldn't help but shiver.

The minutes dragged as Winry continued with CPR and Al was helpless but to sit and hold his brother's hand, his thumb brushing over cold knuckles as he quietly begged Edward to open his eyes; to wake up and be okay. He needed his brother and he was terrified that Edward wouldn't pull through this. His hands were shaking as they held onto Edward's flesh one, tears blurring his vision and a headache forming at the front of his head as he watched his brother's face for any sign of life.

If he hadn't been watching so closely he would have missed the second that Ed regained consciousness, but he was watching and so he noticed the flicker behind Edward's eyes and Al reached out to stop Winry just as Ed started coughing up water. Helping him onto his side to hack up the water that he had taken in, Al wrapped an arm around Winry who slumped against him, exhausted from reviving Ed and stroked comforting circles across Ed's back until he stopped coughing.

When Edward moved to sit up, Winry and Al both moved to support him, and Al forced himself to not hit his stupid brother. Edward looked dazed, and was shivering, but he was here and he was alive and the relief that flooded through Al threatened to choke him as he threw his arms around Ed and sobbed into his shoulder, still holding his brother up as Winry hugged into him too. The three of them sat there for a long time, holding each other as they all cried and Al knew that he would have bruises from Edward's automail grip on him, but he didn't care. He was alive and that was all that mattered.

"Alphonse?" Edward whispered eventually. "Winry?"

"Yeah. Its us Edward, we're here." Winry replied, holding onto Edward tighter as she spoke through her tears. Al pulled back a little, just enough that he could meet his brother's eyes and his heart broke at the sorrow and guilt that he saw there.

"What the hell were you thinking!?" Al heard himself shout, and he regretted it the moment Ed flinched away, turning his gaze out towards the river.

"I don't know. I'm sorry, Al." Edward mumbled, his voice cracking with sorrow as he gasped in a breath, shivering. "I just can't stand it. I needed it all to stop. I needed everything to just stop hurting."

"You idiot!" Al said softly, tugging Edward in closer and hugging him tighter.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just... I don't know what to do. I can barely keep it together with Hal and Ethan, but now Roy is missing and Cara is gone and that's my fault and I just kept thinking about that, was she at peace now? Did it help her? I can't keep seeing him, I can't pretend that its okay."

"Ethan? What's he got to do with this? I thought things were fine with you both now?" Winry asked, sitting back a little so she could meet Ed's eyes; Al did the same thing, but he kept Ed's trembling hand in his own. Edward was silhouetted by the headlights of the car that had pulled up behind him, and he jumped a little when Chris spoke, not having heard her approach.

"Is he the one that gave you those bruises?" She asked him, and Al felt bile rise in his throat. Of course he was. The way he'd found his brother, it wasn't just some random attack, of course it wasn't. Edward didn't reply, but he did look away guiltily and tug his collar up a little to hid the marks on his neck. He was trembling still and Al wanted to help, he wanted to kill Ethan for what he'd done but Winry's words gave him a reason to push that thought aside.

"Enough. Edward needs to get checked by a doctor. Everything else can wait."

Roy's torment had continued with the bitter cold and silence. He hadn't been given the right to his senses back and the inability to see was the worst, bringing memories of the Promised Day flooding back to him. He'd lost his vision then, and it had been what felt like months without it when he'd finally gotten it back, but at least then he had his other senses. He was able to cope, would have been able to survive and taught himself how to adjust. It was amazing what the human body could adapt to. Edward was a great example of that.

He had been just a child when he'd lost two limbs, and Roy had been told of his stubborn lover and how Edward had pushed through his recovery until he was vomiting blood, and even that didn't stop or slow him down. Edward took everyone's expectations and tore them up, burning them to ash in front of them. Roy admired that, he wished he could be that strong, but he knew that he wasn't and he was going mad without his sight. He needed to see, he needed to be able to look after himself, his team, Edward.

Roy choked back a sob at the thought of Edward. They had barely begun, there was so much that waited for them, and now he didn't know if he'd ever see Ed again. He'd left for a mission, with no way of contacting him for days. Would Edward know that he was gone? How long had it been now? How long had he been kept in this prison, waiting for his next torture? Without sight, or hearing, Roy had no concept of time. He had been showered and left to stand in the cold as the water trickled down him four times now. Was that days? Or weeks? He had no idea. He had been force fed meals, but it was irregular, and there was no real pattern to it so Roy couldn't use that to track the days he was losing. They hadn't attacked him, hadn't tried to get information out of him.

Nobody had told him anything about Riza, which meant that he had no idea if his Captain and oldest friend was dead or not. Surely not? She couldn't be. Roy didn't think that he would be able to keep going if he lost Riza too. Whenever he was dragged out of his cell to be washed, the voices would shout at him in Drachman. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard his native language in any voice other than his own and he was beginning to think that he might never hear it again.

He had only seen his cell, not even given the right to see the room where he was showered and he felt himself slowly losing memory of how people looked, he couldn't remember what shade of amber Edward's eyes were, or the particular colour of red from the flowers in his back garden. On a rare occasion they would remove the blindfold and the dulled light would blind him, leaving him whimpering and cowering away in an attempt to hide from the burning brightness.

It was at these times that he'd gotten glimpses of his naked body, of the bruises that littered his skin from the manhandling; of the way his ribs were too obvious now with weight loss. He could see the ashen colour of his already pale skin and he knew then that he was going to die. He was going to die in this cold, damp cell, starved and malnourished, stripped of his senses and his clothes and left to sit in his one filth and urine for days or weeks at a time. He was going to die never hearing Amestrian words again, he was going to die hearing the harsh barks of Drachman soldiers and he was never going to see Edward or his aunt or his team again.

These thoughts had haunted him, danced around his mind, mocking him with their cruelty and dodging out of the way whenever he tried to rid himself of them, laughing. Evenutally, Roy had stopped trying to fight the thoughts and the moment that he did, everything seemed to become more peaceful. He accepted that he would die here, had started to long for it really. When he was dead then he wouldn't have to suffer any more. Maybe there was an afterlife and Hughes was waiting for him, a stiff drink in his hand, eager to torment him forever more about his love for Edward.

That was nice, he liked that thought. He missed Hughes so much that it left him gasping during the nights. He'd never fully dealt with that death, and while each day he stumbled through eased the ache a little, it was still there in his gut, rotting away at his insides until he wasn't able to keep pushing it down again. He kept pushing himself forward, working towards changing this country into something that didn't kill its own citizens just for the sake of it. He was pushing to repay his sins, but he was tired now; so tired. It sounded nice to just lie down and go to meet Hughes. He could have a drink and catch up with his best friend. He would laugh about how he never did get himself a wife, but he did have a blissful week with Edward and that was better than he deserved. So much better.

God, he loved Edward so much that the thought of leaving him left a sharp agony in his chest and Roy sobbed, tears slipping down his cheeks at the thought of never seeing that perfect head of blonde hair again. He wanted to hug himself, to wrap his arms around his chest and squeeze until he got some kind of comfort but his hands were tied behind his back. They had lost sensation hours again, and were dead to him now, hanging limply and occasionally shooting sharp, needle-like pain up through his arm into his shoulder.

He wanted to go home and cry into Edward's neck.

He wanted to die.

He needed this all to end.