Nathan.

Two weeks ago…

I opened my eyes in an unfamiliar room. Only the scent was oddly and obnoxiously familiar. I was locked up in a hospital room. God knows how long that I have been down there. A week back, it was Edward that was in this position. He was not in a bad shape like I was. The light in this white room was blinding me. I had such a huge headache already. Everything was damn too perfect for me. The scent of cleaning product – especially that mixture of alcohol and bleach – was making me nauseous.

My eyes and my headache were getting accustomed to the room that I managed to sit. My eyes fell on the table next to me. Have they been feeding me all those pills? When? I did not even remember taking pills. There was a bottle of morphine too. I was on serious drugs…why? I lifted my right hand, and noticed that it was bandaged except for my fingers. I broke my forearm? What happened to me? I tried to reach for…I forgot almost immediately what I wanted. I stared back it the table. I never knew reading about medication on my free time would have been useful. I saw what could be identifiable as beta-blockers. That was totally surprising. There were other pills on the table, but forcing myself to think about their purpose worsened my headache.

"Oh, you are awake?" I noticed the hinge of surprise in the nurse's voice. "Are you feeling alright? Do you remember where you are? You were completely delusional the first time you woke up."

She kept on harassing me with questions and information in the speed of light. Most of it came from one ear and left from the other. What held my attention was the fact that she said that I had been sleeping for a long time. Had they been keeping me in a medicated coma? I wondered why. Something caught my attention, which confirmed the induced coma. I was plugged to an IV unit.

"I guess it's going to be easier to give you your medication today. You seem quite lucid. I guess you'll be able to take all your pills on your own," she continued. "That also means that I'll probably won't need some of those pills, but just in case…I'll have to give this shot."

She was annoying; however, she was feeding me valuable information. What did she mean with a shot? Why did I need a shot for? I stared at her. She took my arm with a smile.

"It's just going to sting a little, nothing more." The thing was that she missed the vein. She had to take out the needle from my arm. That was when I saw the blood. And when I saw the blood…

…I lost myself.

"Didn't that other puny human tell you to live? You can't save the man, and you can't even listen to the guy's dying wish. You're truly one of a kind, monster." I heard a voice said in my head.

The smell of blood masked all scent. It was intoxicating me. I saw in flash glimpse of my memory. I turned my head, and I could see a man who was losing a lot of blood. The man was not moving. Was he dead? Wait, was this Hughes?

I turned myself to the person by my side. One second, she looked like the annoying nurse in this white room. The next second, she or…was it a he…looked like a soldier…and why were we in an alley? What was going on with my mind? Was she playing tricks on me? Or he? The soldier? What is in her…I mean his hand? A needle? No…that is not a needle! It's a gun.

I extend my hand towards that person, and slam the person into the wall. Suddenly, the entire room tuns white again. The annoying nurse is on the ground. She is on the ground. She is not moving. What happened to her? Why is she unconscious?

"Cassandra!" A doctor rushed to her aid. He turns himself to me. "Lt. Colonel Bennett, you are awake. What happened here?" He has his fingers on the nurse…he is taking her pulse, right?

No.

No. no. no.

Why is this soldier still standing?

(A nurse entered the room, and rushed to the victim and the doctor's side.) It is her. It is this black cat from the Fifth Laboratory and from the Archive room. How come she is still alive? I knew fair well that I did not miss her in the archive room. She should have been dead.

"Now, now, he just needs to be domesticated better. After all, we let him stray away from our reach for far too long." She turned her head to me. "Listen carefully, Nathan. We let you escape from the Fifth Laboratory. We are letting you live right now. All we want you to do is to be a good sacrifice. Be a good little monster until the day comes."

"I am not going to let you escape," I told her. I may not have my gloves, but as long as I had them in my line of vision I could use my alchemy. It was sad that Hughes…the nurse…Hughes…Cassandra was dead…or was she unconscious? I extended both my arms. I had all three of them under my power.

"I guess you did not know that I could control anyone within three meters registered or not. It is great that all human beings have blood running through their veins." I laughed hysterically.

I was about to deliver the final blow, when someone stab me from behind. I could feel a drug quickly paralyze me.

"He almost killed everyone here," said someone.

The world was turning into a blur.

"He is extremely dangerous. I can't say we made any progress. The last other time, he was a danger to himself. This time, he is a danger to others. His place is in an asylum."

3rd.

A week ago…

A scream could be heard from inside the room number #13. The patient, Lieutenant Colonel Nathan Christopher Bennett, had once again attracted the attention of the entire floor's personnel. Fearing the worst, two soldiers were posted nearby if things went for the worst. It had been the third time that he woke up prematurely from his sleep. Each times, the doctor had to prescribe a more concentrated sedative. It seemed that the heavier, the easier for to wake him up. This was bad; because words were going out that he was awake now.

This time around, Nathan had used a scalpel that he had stolen from the nurse's equipment. His arms were covered with cuts some more shallow others that needed medical attention. He was using his blood as a tool. It made him more dangerous, because it meant that he understood that the staff changed every time he would 'touch' them. If a person was 'registered' as he called it, their being was under his control. It was a monstrous alchemy. No one was to talk about it. It was an order that came straight from the Fuhrer who came to visit on the very first day that Nathan was admitted.

"Bring in the soldiers," ordered the chief doctor.

The soldiers came in guns in hand. Nathan noticed, but too late. They shot him twice with rubber ammunition in order to control. They subdued him quickly, and gave a nurse the time to sedate him. Before, he fell unconscious. The nurses effectively gave him his pills. Two birds, one stone. The young man was brought back to his bed. This time they bounded him to his bed. Just before everyone left the room, a nurse pointed the walls.

"God have mercy on this poor boy," she whispered.

On those walls, he wrote with his blood 'here lies a monster; dare not to awoken him'. On another wall, a series of dates were written in chronological order. There was nothing that accompanied the names. There were simply dates.

The chief doctor identified both writing to a 'state'. "He was lucid, when he wrote those dates. Note how neatly each of them are written. He used his blood however. He was delusional, when he painted this. However, since we could refer this as poetry, we can tell that he is still functional in his delusion. He is dangerous at all time."

The doctor was the last one to leave the room, and, when he did, he fell nose to nose to one of the man who was the most eager to see Nathan.

"Colonel Roy Mustang, sir," he named.

"I heard your analysis, doctor. You can't lie to me anymore," Mustang deducted. "Lt. Colonel Bennett is back from the dead."

"Sir, it is safer if you wait until we deem that he is well enough to accept visitors. You risk your life in there," the doctor informed.

"I can no longer afford the wait, doc," Mustang replied. "Next time, I'll be there."

"I advise you to bring those illustrious gloves with you, because you'll need them, sir," said the exasperated doctor. "That kid has a weird alchemy. Usually, we send case like his to the asylum, but the Fuhrer, himself, came down here, and told us to keep him here. We are not allowed to even discuss about his alchemy, even I we do not quite understand it. It is wicked. I give you that."

Mustang.

I was tired of getting sent away like this. This time, I had to use my position. If they wanted to keep me away, I dared them to go to the Fuhrer for all I care. That kid was the only key witness in Hughes's case. If everyone left the investigation on the backburner, it was up to me to pursue the leads until I broke. After the lieutenant fell on the mysterious Number 66, we gathered significant information about what the military had been up to in the dark. The only problem was that the information only meant that Hughes had fell on some plot much greater by connecting the dots together. The one who knew of those secrets was that brat who had been locked up into a room due to Post-traumatic Stress disorder. The medical staff was uncooperative when it came for visits. Their main excuses were that "the patient is resting" or "the patient is currently very unstable". Did they think that I was not able to defend myself? Were they underestimating a hero of Ishval? PTSD was no stranger to me. Everyone who had to live through the nightmare of the Ishvalan civil war had left this desert with permanent scars.

I arrived too late. I arrived when they had finished subduing him once more. I remember when Fury came to me with a list of the prescribed drugs used on this kid, which included beta-blockers, sleeping aids and morphine. Those drugs had the foul propriety to alter or even 'erase' memories. Someone on the top of the chain was making sure that he would have a bad time remembering anything at all. The high dosage got me fairly suspicious of the actions taken to silence the kid. He must have information to die for. I was not going to let the military brass get away with anything. They gave me another reason to strengthen my resolve to become the next Fuhrer. Before I had to confront Lieutenant Colonel Nathan Bennett, I needed to gather more Intel on him. The problem was that he was telling the frustrating truth. His case was classified. Only the Fuhrer and a selected few big wigs had the authorization to access it. What was the big secret? I really want to have a piece of the pie. That was when it hit me. The kid mentioned that he was station in the West. I had an old friend there. Luck.

I went to a public phone booth, because I was too wary of my surroundings. Someone could be a double agent in the new office. I did not want this certain someone to snitch me about my recent snooping around.

"I'd like to talk to Brigadier General Theresa Powell," I told the receptionist who put me on hold.

Theresa Powell…this familiar name brought memories back, memories where Hughes was still alive. Our friendship began in our military academy that I have to mention was for boys only. Back then, Theresa had to pose as Theodore Powell, because her father wanted her to pursue a career. After graduating, we lost touch. She reappeared as Theresa Powell the State Alchemist and Lieutenant Colonel who could finally be a girl in public. She even managed to beat me in the ranks by one. The sad part was that the trio had to have the 'happy reunion' on the Ishvalan battlefield under the Order 3066. Afterwards, she was transferred to the West where war against Cretan terrorists is trying to claim their cities back from Amestris.

"Brigadier General Powell, here, who's asking?" Her voice reached my ear. It still had this slightly sophisticated tone mixed with the youthful spunk.

"Hello, my darling, sorry I haven't called you sooner," I teased.

She let out a sigh. "Roy, you can drop the act now. I'm still Theo, and I know every little embarrassing detail about your life."

"Right." I coughed. It was actually true that she could share a thing or two, but I was still a top student and model soldier in my 'prime'. "Tessa, is everything actually alright?"

She laughed. "They are slowly turning the West into shambles," Theresa answered honestly. "Every time I wake up, it almost feels like the Ishvalan War all over again. The Fuhrer authorizes Vega to recruit even more 'toy soldiers'. Some of these kids haven't hit puberty yet they've shot down a man."

"I see." I could feel my blood boil. It was unacceptable for the Fuhrer to get away with recruiting child soldiers even if the war had any important significance. I had to calm down, because I was only calling her for something more important than moral issues. "Anything you'd like to tell me about a certain Lt. Colonel Nathan Christopher Bennett?"

The lighthearted Tessa fell silent at the other end of the line. I knew I had hit a big fish with my question. I could tell she knew valuable information. "Little boy Nathan didn't spend that much time in the East that he already got you curious about his case." She chuckled. "You are better off in the dark, Roy. I mean it," she added with a heavy serious tone. She was threatening me to stay away.

"Theresa, I can't. I remember telling you that Hughes die under mysterious causes. I failed to tell you that this particular person is involved in Hughes's death," I revealed to her.

"I'm sorry for Hughes. I'm sorry I couldn't attend his funeral, because war and responsibilities kept me tied to Western Commands on that day." She held her serious tone. "But, I cannot afford to reveal anything about Lieutenant Colonel Bennett. I'll tell you this. He's a sweet boy who's been delusional for so long that he lost touch with reality. It's only a matter of time before he loses it completely."

I could read between the lines that she had to keep quiet for both our sake. It meant that someone who was even higher than her had told her to remain silent. "What do you mean?"

She sighed again. "He sold his soul to the devil for his sister's sake." She paused for second to give some orders, and then pursued her story. "When he came under my command, he was still shaken by a crime he unjustly committed. Vega introduced him as a rising young star recommended by the Fuhrer himself. What he failed to mention was that the boy was suffering of Post-Traumatic Stress disorder and that he was spiraling downwards to become some kind of psychopath. One day, his sister, Bailey Bennett, was almost killed by Cretan terrorists. He murdered every one of them in cold blood. The memory haunted him ever since. I've found him in the streets. I found him drinking. I found him overworking himself. But, there was still hope. He turned out to be a brilliant young man. He turned out making friends. But, the scars were deep, Roy. The scars were so deep that there was no guarantee that he will ever be saved from hell."

She was going around the pot, but she did explain a few things that I had noticed or heard of about him. "There are things that you aren't telling me, Theresa?"

In all seriousness, she told me something that I did not want to hear again. "His file is classified." However, I knew that she wanted me to find out about it, when she added "I've heard something about a kid who always admired you. I don't think it's a bad idea to get close to the kid, you know. I might even start thinking that he could turn out to be your long lost brother."

"...I understand." I hung up, and sighed. So, she's saying that the kid would tell it to me? He wasn't so willing to do so back in East City. He admires me? Give me a break.

I came out of the phone booth and was joined by my queen.

"Did you find the answers that you need, sir?" Hawkeye asked.

I smirked. "I was given the blessing to get in touch with Nathan."

Author's Note: I do not know if this makes any sense. It made sense in my head. This is pretty much the "prologue" to the arc. I realized that I named Nathan's alchemy in the second chapter I just did not revealed what it was all about and what happened. This is coming.

Thank you for reading my story.

Yes, I'm giving Mustang a big role. I hope I did not OOC him. orz

I might separate this fanfic into two or three so that it does not become too heavy in the numbers of chapters. Just a thought.