Chapter fifteen

Major General Carl Freeman was happy. Tipping most of the newspapers in the country while "letting things slip" to their fellow officers was working perfectly. Things had gone according to plan. He had hoped that the body would show up today instead of yesterday, but otherwise things were good.

Carl hadn't foreseen that Mustang would be clever enough to figure out their plans before the arrest, but that too was working in their favour. Now even more people believed him to be guilty and even to have kidnapped Alphonse Elric. With the Elric kid in hiding, the rumours of "abuse" were actually strengthened because there weren't anyone left to actually have witnessed the truth.

No, things were good. He had laughed himself silly after having given his statement about "poor Edward confiding in me about the abuse he faces on a nearly daily basis. He's too scared to report it. I try to be there for him, you know, but with him nearly constantly under that brute's eye, it's not easy. I'm so sorry for not reporting it, but I was afraid that Mustang would try to kill him and Alphonse if he found out. I was going try to send them away on a mission to get them help only next week, but I was too late!" A fake tear and a sniffle, and the Investigations officer was eating out of the palm of his hand.

Then, when the knife was discovered in the trash can outside Mustang's house, the man really didn't have a chance. Carl had discredited him completely and he would never be able to give Ishbal back to those filthy freaks. It belonged to Amestris after all. Those brown-skinned bastards were unnatural. They dirtied everything they touched. They didn't deserve anything other than the same slow death that Edward Elric had received.

He still laughed at the treatment the brat had got. It had been so fun to look into those golden eyes of his as he lay there. They were so full of fierceness and defiance, it was hilarious. He had considered asking Wells if he could keep them, but after the treatment the brat got, that defiance would be replaced with fear, and he already had plenty of those. It was a bit of a shame, really, but it all worked out for the best.

He looked at the pictures of the head and body. Wells had done a good job, clearly working slowly to cause the kid as much pain as possible. He really was a talented man. Such a shame about that heart attack, but working on cases concerning kids your own son's age really didn't strengthen it. That son, Otto or Oscar or something, he was found having slit his wrists after drinking heavily. Him and his father had been so close, Carl knew about that. If was the recent breakup that he didn't know about, so it actually wasn't even by Carl's orders that the kid had died.

Ah, well. Easy come, easy go. The boy doesn't really matter to me anyway anymore.

No, that kid didn't have any backbone at all. Edward Elric, though, he'd been fun to torment. When he'd regained the ability to speak and was struggling as he lay on the floor, it really was a laugh.

"YOU SICK BASTARDS! WHY THE HELL ARE YOU GONNA TORTURE ME FIRST IF YOU'RE JUST GONNA KILL ME?! OR ARE YOU BACKING UP ON YOUR WORDS?!"

The brat was screaming, such delicious rage filling those golden eyes. Really made them look like they were blazing with fire. And the best part was, he was just trying to drag out the time so that he could get loose.

"Of course we'll kill you, but we won't stop there! We'll frame Mustang for it!"

"THE HELL YOU WILL! I'LL KICK YOUR ASSES BEFORE YOU EVEN GET THE CHANCE!"

Carl sat down in front of him, lifting the boy's head by his hair so that they were eye to eye and he could really take in that fierceness. That self-deceiving, lovely rage.

"Oh, come on now, Edward, we're friends after all."

The kid seemed to explode with anger. Really, this was too easy. And so much fun. Because there was a tiny trace of fear. He was going to have some fun before he let this one go.

"WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU EVEN SUGGEST SOMETHING LIKE THAT?! YOU'VE BEEN GOING ON ABOUT HOW YOU'RE GONNA KILL ME FOR THE LAST FIVE FUCKING MINUTES! IN DETAIL!"

"Oh, but you need to understand me, Edward, we are friends. That's what I'm going to tell the lovely people at Investigations."

"WHY THE HECK WOULD YOU DO THAT, YOU DISGUSTING, RACIST BASTARD?!"

"Because I have been growing very concerned about you lately, Edward. You keep telling me stories about how Daddy Mustang is always hitting you. I know it can't be easy, but I'm really trying to help you. Oh, Edward, why won't you let me help you before it is too late?" Carl loved putting on a good show, and the desperate, heartfelt way he said it left even himself impressed.

The outrage grew even more."DON'T YOU DARE!"

"Oh, but Edward, it's okay. I'll get that man far away from you and your brother." Carl figured he might as well just mess with the kid a bit more and stroked his cheek with his left hand, making shushing-noises. "It's okay."

The brat spat at him. "Get your filthy hands off me!" he hissed.

Carl decided to take the kid's words literally, dropping him back to the ground, making his chin slam against the stone floor. He lifted him up again, he really had such perfect hair to do this with. The kid spat some blood out, he had obviously either bit his tongue or lip.

"Ah, such fine memories," Carl said to himself.

It was about lunchtime that Ed figured out that something was wrong with Al. His brother had been acting normally all day, smiling and laughing, when he suddenly began shivering violently despite the warmth of the flat. Dad was taking a shower, so Ed was alone with Al. They were sitting in the couch, Ed with his left arm around his brother, Al's head on his shoulder. Ed wasn't unfamiliar with Al needing a mid day nap these days, his body was still healing from being stuck in the Gate. He didn't shiver in his sleep, though, and Ed grew worried. He felt his forehead and could immediately tell that his little brother had a fever.

It wasn't unusual for Al to get sick, his immune system had taken a beating during those five years and that didn't right itself in just four months.

Al began shivering harder and his face turned pale and green and he woke with an "I don't feel too good, Brother."

Ed jumped out of the couch and got a plastic bucket out of the cupboard under the sink and handed it to Alphonse. He then ran over to the bathroom door and knocked. "Hey, Dad! Al's got a fever! He's sick too!"

Ten seconds later, Dad opened the door and stood there in only his boxers, water dripping from his hair and the rest of his body and he was looking worried. Al was shivering, bucket in his lap, suddenly looking like he was near death with how pale his face was. Dad strode forwards and helped Al out of the couch and supported him into the bathroom to kneel in front of the toilet. Al clutched it immediately and began sobbing just as Ed wetted a washcloth with cold water and handed it to Dad.

"I h-hate this. I don't want to be sick again," Al wept, looking scared as the cold cloth was pressed to his forehead and he kept shivering. Ed hated the familiarity of the scene, it happened often enough and it left his little brother so scared of the next time, after all, it wasn't exactly pleasant, especially when one hadn't had a fever in seven years.

Ed placed another cold cloth over Al's neck and kneeled beside him, placing his right hand on his shoulder for support while Dad muttered words of comfort. Ed hated watching his brother like this. It made his stomach churn and all he could really do was wait and see if Al was going to throw up before bringing him some Paracetamol. Al began retching, still crying, while Dad gently stroked his hair.

Once they were sure that the wave of sickness was gone, Ed went for the medicine cabinet while Dad gently dried Al's face and tears away and hugged him. Ed found the Paracetamol and went to get a glass of water in the kitchen, turning around to find Dad already lying Al down on the couch. Ed handed Al the painkillers and the water and Al dutifully drank it all up while Dad placed some pillows behind his back to keep his head elevated. After that Ed took the glass from Al and found the thermometer in the medicine cabinet. He went back into the living room to find Dad having somehow found just enough space next to Al to sit on the edge of the couch and was gently stroking his cheek. Ed put the thermometer into Al's mouth and watched as his little brother shivered and smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry," Al said, looking up at them. "This really isn't a good time."

I seriously hope you guys got the reference to my favourite song in this chapter, I just had to do it.