So, just as a bit of a fun fact: Britain is actually a part of FMA, because I found in chapter eight of the manga that Lust was reading a newspaper where the front page had a headline about a "British Naval Commander". That is basically why I went with an Irish Wolfhound, plus they are brilliant dogs. :D

And so I once again ask that you people please leave reviews because I treasure them deeply, but please no flames as they can be highly discouraging. Basically: the more positive reviews, the higher chance there is of a quick update! :D

Chapter seven

Roy woke up to a slightly overwhelming weight on his chest. He had obviously fallen asleep, and hadn't it been for the fact that his arms were pinned under Fullmetal's chest, then he'd have panicked instantly and hit his "assailant".

Instead he found his fingers digging into soft fur.

And dog-like snores were coming from his right, right next to the soft dog's ear pressed to his cheek. He was beginning to notice that the fur was almost as soft as the usual blonde hair on top of the kid's head.

Damn it, he really was merged with a dog...

Now, however, the problem was that Roy couldn't move. Which meant that he would have to wake the kid up. Which meant that Fullmetal could panic and quite possibly tear Roy's throat out.

And Roy really was completely trapped. Fullmetal's hands were on his shoulders, he couldn't turn his head to the right and he had limited movement to the left because of the hand on the shoulder. He could move his legs slightly as Fullmetal was lying across him sideways from about his left knee.

Roy remembered vaguely helping the kid take off his t-shirt sometime during the night because the fur made him too warm.

He wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, so he had no clue about what time it was.

So, I need a way to wake the kid up that won't scare him or remind him of his captivity...

And so Roy began rubbing the kid's stomach, trying to scratch it as best he could as he kept whispering to him. "Hey, Fullmetal? It's just the Colonel, but you're pinning me... Fullmetal, please wake up, it's Colonel Mustang... It's only the Colonel, Fullmetal..." he repeated over and over again, continuously rubbing the kid's stomach.

Fullmetal suddenly whimpered, leaving Roy more than a little scared that his plan wasn't working.

Then suddenly the kid leaned on his hands, looking down at Roy with wide eyes. "I, oh... oh shit, Colonel, I'm sorry!" And so Fullmetal quickly got off of Roy and sat up on his knees, looking at Roy in embarrassment and fear, still whimpering slightly. "I-I... I must have done that in my sleep. I didn't hurt you, right?"

Roy sighed and sat up. "Fullmetal, relax, I'm fine."

"But still, I could have seriously hurt you!" the kid exclaimed fearfully.

Roy didn't even bother to pursue the argument, and instead looked at the alarm clock in his nightstand, sighing. It was half past twelve. "What do you say about pancakes?"

The kid stared at him in confusion. "What?"

Roy sighed. "It's lunchtime, we've already slept through breakfast, and I am wondering if you want pancakes."

"I come dangerously close to killing you, and you just ask me if I want pancakes?" Fullmetal asked incredulously, his head tilted slightly to the side.

"Yes. Yes I am. Now come on, Al's being released from the hospital and is probably on his way here already."

A creature on three legs, the last one missing, limping towards him down the long, narrow hallway. The head was bent, its hair was golden, going down its back and shoulders, the rest of it covered in dark grey fur. It was whispering something, over and over, but Al couldn't hear what the unknown creature was saying. It was just limping towards him slowly, not looking at him.

And Al feared it. It brought him pain to look at it. He wanted to walk closer to it, to reach out, help it.

But he couldn't.

Because he feared it. He was frightened of moving. He wanted to escape, to run away, to keep running until he forgot about the creature. Because it hurt so much to look at it, and he didn't want to remember why. He wanted to run from the memories that the wretched creature brought, and he wanted to run away from the creature itself before it was too late.

But he was pressed up against a wall. He felt behind him, hoping desperately that it was a door, that he would find a doorknob on the wooden surface behind him.

Laughter. The hallway was echoing with laughter. The laughter of a young girl.

And the laughter hurt. He didn't want to learn why. He couldn't let himself learn why the laughter hurt.

But once the creature reached him, he would know why it hurt. Why he was so scared.

"Wanna play," came a contorted voice. It wasn't natural. And it hurt. The two words had stabbed him in the chest, but he wasn't bleeding.

And just like the unnatural voice, the creature that was slowly limping closer to him was equally so.

The creature's muttering was still unintelligible, even if it was only three metres away by now.

"Please... Please just don't come closer," Al said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He didn't even know if it had just been in his head that he had spoken.

The creature didn't listen, but the muttering stopped. It didn't stop limping towards him. The pace was just as steady as it had been ever since it first appeared.

Al couldn't move. The girl's laughter was louder, but it didn't belong to the limping creature. And yet they were connected.

He couldn't speak, he couldn't move. All he could do was beg silently for the creature to disappear before he could remember what he wanted to forget.

It came right up to him and nudged his right hand with its nose. It sent shivers down his spine and tears were running down his cheeks.

And then the creature looked up to show him the grey, furry face of a dog, but with startlingly golden eyes. Golden eyes that were crying as it opened its mouth. "Let's eat that apple pie, Little Brother."

Al woke with a scream, only to look over at Second Lieutenant Havoc, who was leaning over the back of the front seat, his hand on his shoulder, looking worried. "Hey, Al, it's okay, it was just a nightmare."

Al was breathing heavily, he still wasn't used to the overwhelming fear of a nightmare, and it left him shaky and his stomach was still clenching. He wiped away the tears in his eyes. Even if it wasn't as bad as in the nightmare, Brother was still a chimera. He wasn't a second Nina, but he was still part dog, just like her. "...I-I know... I just... B-Brother was like... like Nina... He was in p-pain."

Havoc squeezed his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile, even if his eyes betrayed the way his stomach too was twisting at the thought. "Well, he's not. So now all we have to do is find a way to fix the Chief, and then we'll get you two back on your way to Resembool."

Al nodded and looked down, not wanting to mention the fact that they were still in considerable danger both from interested outside parties, but also from the remaining members of the Serpent's Eye. They both had a giant target on their backs, Ed more or less literally.

He still felt sick about the thought of the tattoo. They needed to remove it, but they couldn't touch his back to do so. They might be able to fix it with some medical alchemy, but Brother would never let Doctor Marcoh use his Philosopher's Stone to fix it.

Al suddenly had an idea.

Ed had no idea why the hell he didn't stop himself from eating his first pancake by leaning forwards and eating it directly with his mouth as soon as it was held in front of him. He had no idea why the hell he did that when his knife and fork were in his hands.

His gloved hands because of the claws, but still...

He looked up at the Colonel awkwardly as the man put the plate with the half-eaten pancake down on the table completely. "Sorry, Colonel... But the recipe's good..." he told him, trying, and probably failing, to make what he had done seem completely natural, considering that there was a slightly crumpled pancake lying on the plate, looking like it had been mauled by his teeth.

Which it had.

And Ed was whimpering slightly at the thought. He was still afraid of displeasing him, and in a way even more so now that Ed was beginning to feel safe around him.

But Mustang didn't even seem particularly bothered by the weird display. Their relationship had entered a very strange phase indeed.

...Because Mustang was just accepting the dog-like behaviour. Sometimes he had that same manner of being as he had around Black Hayate.

...And Ed found himself responding to it. Or Trevor did. He got an odd sense of happiness from it. His body and his mind was relieved by being accepted as a dog.

And all Ed knew was that he wasn't half as scared when it was that way. But now came that strange urge to please. To give Mustang enough reason not to send him away and back to the bad people.

"Okay, you finish that one, Fullmetal, and then let me prepare the next one for you. Have you ever tried pancakes with a bit of lemon juice and then sprinkled with sugar?" the Colonel asked conversationally as he walked back over to the stove to flip the next pancake.

"No. Is it good?" Ed asked curiously, beginning to try to work his gloved hands correctly. It was harder because part of his brain was telling him furiously that he was doing it wrong, just because he had fingers. And so Ed was caught in a furious battle of Ed and Trevor versus Trevor and Ed, because Ed and Trevor wanted to eat it with their hands, while Trevor and Ed were shouting about how wrong that was and how he had to please his master.

Ed felt his stomach clench at the thought of that word.

"Yes, I'd say so. Otherwise I wouldn't have wanted you to try it, would I, Fullmetal?" There wasn't that usual smirk in the sarcasm. It was just an observation.

And Ed felt really strange about it. How Mustang treated him with so much kindness. His previous CO was being so nice and understanding. And just like Al, he seemed to find something about Ed in this way almost endearing. Yes, it made them sad, but they were both dog people, and Ed could tell that they liked Trevor too.

But he decided to just ignore that for now because he didn't really want to discuss it right now and instead asked about something that had been bothering him slightly ever since yesterday. "Why do you keep calling me Fullmetal? I gave up that title once I turned in my pocket watch. Calling me the Fullmetal Alchemist is a bit odd when I'm not an alchemist anymore..."

Mustang paused at that. "Because Fullmetal and the Fullmetal Alchemist are two different names. You've been Fullmetal to me for three and a half years, you don't just stop being that because of a watch and a resignation," he said, his back turned to Ed.

Ed, however, froze.

Does that mean that it's actually a nickname to him?

Suddenly he heard the sound of a car driving towards them down the street and he recognised the smell of cigarettes and, most importantly, his little brother. Ed got to his feet immediately, suddenly hearing and feeling something very weird tip the chair over.

Then Ed realised he was wagging his tail and he blushed and whimpered and ran for the door in both panic and excitement. "Al's coming!" he explained, hoping that nobody else would see him wagging his tail, even if he could feel it swinging from right to left over and over again, fearing a reprimand because this was the exact opposite of what Ed should have done. He should have stayed back and let Mustang open the door, but would that have made Trevor angry and scared because it was Al?

He could hear and smell it as the Colonel followed him, holding the dart gun just in case, and Ed felt his stomach clench in both fear and relief at the thought of that reminder. That simple safety precaution. "Remember that you're not allowed to go outside, Fullmetal. You'll have to wait here in the hallway," Mustang said, causing Ed to stop dead two metres away from the door while the older man strode past him and opened it. "Here, Havoc, I'll help you."

Ed could only stand there and watch as the door was nearly shut behind the Colonel.

And a whimper escaped him. It was odd to have a brain that understood the situation, but a body that didn't, which meant that right now, Ed was hurt, happy, annoyed with himself, insecure and very confused as to why he stopped before going to his little brother when he had finally returned.

Because life had become a lot like being afraid of the dark. He understood everything. He had the proper human cognitive function, but he was also plagued by his dog instincts. Which meant that even if he knew that Al was in the hospital and would be safe, he couldn't get himself to believe it fully that he hadn't been left and that his brother had been taken away by the scary cigarette guy. Fear of the dark had given him that same feeling when he was younger. When you knew that there wasn't actually someone or something dangerous lurking in the dark, you weren't able to stop fearing that there was. And so it seemed that the thing that Trevor feared the most was being left behind by the "good pack" after finally getting it.

"So, Edward, there are some specifics that we'd like to go through with you. Just to make your confusion settle slightly," the cigar-guy said. Ed was lying on his side inside the cage.

His cage. There was a sign on it. A sign that read "Exhibit 46: Elric, Edward/Trevor". Ed had seen it as they guided him inside about a minute ago. He didn't know how long he'd been here now. They kept tranquillising him, sometimes he'd wake up neatly groomed and cleaned up, sometimes he'd be back in the pool room to be performed more physical tests on. Once he'd even been inside a fake garden to search for land mines, although they were of course disabled. This time he was brought here after performing an IQ test and various other tests to measure his intellectual capabilities. And he hadn't dared fake anything in fear of them hurting Evan.

But right now he was hurting and whimpering inside the cage because he'd been ordered to touch the bars. The electrified bars just so that he'd learn as soon as possible not to touch them so that he didn't get any wrong ideas. "What's it this time?" he asked weakly.

The cigar-guy just grinned, showing off his gold tooth as he pulled a chair over and sat down on it about a metre away from him. "Well, first of all, I thought you'd like to know that it's been fifty-two hours since you were brought into our care, as you seem a bit confused about the length of your stay. Secondly, you didn't wake up before after twenty-seven hours. The transmutation obviously took a lot out of you. Thirdly, just so that you can get to know yourself a bit better: Trevor, as you saw on your sign, is the dog you were merged with. He's three and a half and a pedigreed Irish Wolfhound imported from Britain. He was an ideal animal to merge you with, as he is a very strong dog from a breed made to hunt wolves. Irish Wolfhounds are characterised as being "gentle giants", but they also get very fierce when provoked, meaning that with a proper master, you're going to make a very fine weapon indeed. Loyalty might be a problem, but I have a feeling that your new owners are going to train you properly."

Ed stared. He'd known that he'd be sold as a human weapon, but there was something that made his chest constrict at hearing about the dog that was now part of him. He'd met another "gentle giant" a year ago...

And he began to realise that he wasn't ever going to be treated as a human again. He was a "human dog", not dog and not human. He was a weapon. Was he going to get sent out on the frontlines for another country and forced to kill his fellow countrymen? Would he become some sort of giant threat to the military that Mustang himself would be sent out to kill? Or maybe to capture Ed and then place him in a cell to be continuously interrogated and examined. Maybe he'd become little else than a lab sample?

...Maybe he would suffer the same fate that Nina would have done had she not been killed?

"Well, Edward, if you're wondering about the constant tranquillising, it is merely to insure that you get enough rest as well as letting us move you around without incident. We've been following a schedule of examinations for two hours, and then one hour of sleep, so they are mostly..." Then he grinned. "Well, calling them catnaps doesn't really fit, does it?"

Ed didn't laugh. He growled. "You can't sell someone against their will and call their buyer their owner, you bas-"

He screamed and whined as the shock collar was activated and he fell sideways into the cage, panting, his body wreaked with pain.

And the cigar-guy was just tutting. "You're lucky that Evan is being fed at the moment. You have behaved very well today, so he won't be punished for this, but you do not defy your owner, Edward, even if I am only your temporary one. You call me something like that again and you will find Evan losing all his milk teeth prematurely."

Ed groaned and whimpered with pain where he lay on his side again. The thought of being the cause of Evan being held still as someone pulled all his teeth out was something he never wanted to think about ever again. "F-fine."

"I think I'll need to teach you a bit about manners, Edward. The auction is tomorrow and your new owners won't be very happy about buying a foul-mouthed and impolite mutt... So..."

Ed screamed and howled again, soon finding himself lying with his face pressed to the floor of his cage, his hands over his head as he tried to keep the tears of pain and misery away.

"So, Edward, what have you got to say to me?" the cigar guy asked, and Ed could hear his right thumb circling around that blasted button for his collar.

Ed would have defied him by nature, he could take a lot of pain.

But he would be putting Evan's health at risk. "F-fine... Master," he said shakily, continuously whimpering.

"Good boy, Edward. You'd do good to remember that. After all, I can keep this up for a lot longer, you chimeras have a rather admirable pain tolerance. Had to get you a custom made collar, even. So I want to hear you say it again: what do you call me?"

"Master," Ed whispered.

Another wave of pain, his scream louder this time. "You need to say it loud and clear, Edward. A good dog can't waver in its respect for its owner."

Ed was crying. Tears were streaming down his cheeks in full. He took a shaky breath to brace himself. "Master. I call you my Master," he said as clearly as he could get himself to do despite the pain coursing through him.

"Yes, Edward, that's right. And what do you call your new owners when you meet them tomorrow?"

Ed decided to be ahead of the bastard psycho cigar-guy this time. "I call them my Master or Mistress, Master."

"Good boy, Edward. Remember that."

Ed barely whimpered as the tranquilliser dart was fired and embedded itself in his left side.

Ed had to say that he didn't mind getting a "good pack" himself after that, even if the idea of having Mustang as his new "owner" made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He shivered and whimpered, but then his tail started swinging when he both heard and smelled it as his little brother was wheeled up to the house and inside the hallway.

Al looked up at him from his wheelchair, his ankle in a cast and then tears began to form in his eyes. They were both sad and happy at the same time and Ed was barely able to resist the urge to downright leap at him.

He still moved at lightning speed and placed his hands on his shoulders as he knelt down and pushed his head against Al's chest.

Then came another one of those "what the hell am I doing?!" moments, but before he could apologise, Al had begun chuckling slightly and was scratching him behind the ear again, and Ed just leaned into the touch.

"Hi, Brother, you're looking better today," Al said, speaking fondly, even if there was sadness to it as well. "Did it help to talk with Darius and Heinkel?" he then added, sounding slightly anxious.

"Yeah, some... Thanks, Al... We think... We might have a way to help me get more in control, but it's... It's gonna take some time and..." He sighed. "Al, I'm gonna have to act more on my dog instincts for it to work..."

Al paused slightly, and Ed could sense the tears streaming down his little brother's cheeks. But the hand scratching him behind the ear never ceased doing so, and Ed had a feeling that it actually helped Al feel better. "That's okay, Ed... We'll make it work, we always do."

Ed sighed again. "Al, you shouldn't be the one to say that. I'm the one who's supposed to look after you..."

"We're supposed to look after each other, because that's what siblings do. Now listen, Brother, instead of arguing pointlessly against things that are a given, because I had an idea."

Ed shifted his head to look up at him slightly. "What?"

And then Al began blushing. "I think we should ask May for help. After all, alchemy has yet to find any solutions as to how to separate chimeras, so we really should look into alkahestry."

Ed was beginning to understand the blush, but Al was still right, so he'd tease him about it later. "That could actually be a good idea. We could ask Teacher too."

Al nodded and smiled hopefully. "Yeah, and I thought that May might know a way to remove that tattoo from your back too, which means that no one will have to touch it to get it off."

Mustang spoke up with something like a fond sigh. "Then it seems we have a plan of action for now. Havoc? Would you see if you could find Lieutenant Ross and bring her here? She's the only one here who knows her way across the desert."

"Yes, sir, I'll be right on it. I'll see you later, then."

And so Havoc disappeared and shut the door, and the Colonel spoke once again. "Okay, you two, we have pancakes to eat and we need to talk so that we don't get a repeat of yesterday."