Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or any of it's charecters.

AN: I'm terribly sorry to everyone who is displeased at me, but could you all do me a favor? Being a canon rapist, I am completely oblivious to how you put the charecter's personalities on paper! If any of you kind reviewers could write some traits of every charecter's personalities, I will try (not making any promises) to make this story more to your liking!

This chappie contains Roy abuse so beware!

Chapter 12: Marcoh's Fire

Present Day…

"Did he find out?" Ed asked moving closer to the young officer.

Roy nodded weakly, "Of course he did."

"H-how did he react?" Ed continued, "What did he do to you?"

Roy sighed "Edward, Riza, what I am about to tell you I've told nobody," a tear fell down his cheek, "not even Bradley."

He took a deep breath, "Gran arrived shortly after…"

10 Years Ago…

"Where is he?" growled Gran slowly walking into the tent.

"Who, sir?" asked McDowell.

"Don't play dumb, Spiritual!" he growled grabbing Meriwether's collar, "Where is Roy Mustang?"

He looked over and saw Roy looking straight at him, dark eyes filled with fear.

"Leave McDowell!" yelled Gran, "I want to be alone with Flame!"

The Spiritual Alchemist left the building reluctantly, he knew what was going to happen to Roy.

Gran ambled viciously toward Roy.

"Colonel, please, I- I…" but before Roy could beg for mercy Gran had grabbed his forearms, squeezing them tightly.

"You are a disgrace, Boy!" Gran yelled lifting Roy off of the bed by his fragile arms, "I had faith in you since you were a poor peasant boy with a dream of becoming something great, and what do you do? You let me down!"

"I'm sorry!" cried Roy.

Gran threw him to the ground causing him to land face down. Gran then lifted his up again and threw him against the wall.

"So weak," he laughed, "you're bleeding already!"

Roy crawled to where his gloves were, it was the only plan he had left: he had to torch the Colonel! Then it hit him, if Gran died, who would back him up? He stopped in his tracks only to be face to face with Gran's boot.

Gran kicked him in the face and then thrust another kick into his chest breaking the skin. No matter how much he screamed, no matter how much he cried, nobody would save him!

Present Day…

"He beat me whenever he got the chance," Roy cried, "no matter what I did, it would never satisfy him. He always had to show that I was indeed a weakling!"

"He laid a hand on you?" yelled Riza, "Why didn't you tell Bradley?"

"What would it have done?" Roy continued quietly, "He would have continued to do it anyway."

Riza wrapped her arms around him, "And those burns on your shoulders," she cried "are that because of him too?"

Roy coughed lightly, his eyes watering, "No," he winced, "that was another time I learned that my adolescence was over, that was a time where I knew that I was done for."

10 Years Ago…

Roy remained on the ground, broken and bloody. He wanted to die; he wanted some miracle to happen that would release him from his body. The Marcoh entered only to find Roy sobbing on the ground.

"Roy!" he asked running toward the boy, "What the hell happened to you?"

Roy thought of an excuse, "I-I-I," he took a deep breath, "I fell!"

"That wasn't a fall," continued Marcoh, "it was Basque Gran wasn't it?"

"No," answered Roy, "it wasn't! It was me, I caused this pain!"

"Roy," Marcoh hushed.

"If I wasn't so weak," the young man sobbed, "then this pain wouldn't have been for me, but for somebody else."

"Roy, when I look at you I see a flame, no, a fire," he held out his hand helping the teenager up, "Gran is trying to extinguish that fire out of jealousy, he sees what I see. He sees that one day, that fire that you hold deep in your heart will transform into a blazing inferno and forge you into a great man, a better man than I have ever known, even a great Fuhrer."

"Me, Fuhrer?" asked Roy wiping the tears from his eyes "I couldn't possibly be that, a Fuhrer is strong and brave, I'm just a worthless weakling with not a penny to his name."

Marcoh grabbed Roy's bloody arm and smiled "Gran wants you to think that, but please Roy, if there is anything that you should do with your life, feed that fire until it grows into that majesty and wonder that we call manhood."

Roy looked into Marcoh's eyes, "I'll try my best, sir."

"Please, Roy," Marcoh answered, "call me Marcoh."

"Alright," he answered "Marcoh."

Present Day…

"That was a friendship that sparked the idea of the Saints in my mind! I wanted to defy Gran in anyway possible, but I couldn't do it by myself!" Roy explained his voice growing back to its rich self, diverting away from the hoarse dying rattle that was present for the last couple days.

"What about Blais Scott or Drew Pascal?" Ed asked, "Where were they?"

"I haven't gotten there yet, you will learn about the burns and Flora and Gust when I get there." Roy answered with a smile on his face, a healthier smile.

"The drugs are kicking in," wept Riza, "he's getting better!"

Roy seemed like he was, but Ed knew, tuberculosis is not cured in a week, this was an illusion, the next day he would be coughing, wheezing, and slowly dying internally. He would be gone.

"Later, Gran ordered us, myself included to the battlefield…"

AN: Please review!