Voltage

"Rise and shine, my dear alchemist!" The trill of a voice like a songbird awoke Ed from his slumber. For an instant he thought it was the voice of his mother calling him from breakfast after he had had a long lie in. He had always read in bed late at night. And every so often, his gaze would shift from his book to stare at his brother's sleeping form by his side before returning to his alchemic text.

He had taken his "big brother" duties very seriously as a three-year old.

The logic in the world had been very simple for Ed: he would do anything in the world of Al.

Even though the Elric brothers had changed (dramatically in appearance), they would go through Hell and back for each other.

Edward's eyes flickered open as dizzy recognition addled through his brain like an adrenaline shot. The voice spoke once again, although it had become terse: "Rise and shine."

The blond boy's head was swimming – the dehydration was finally getting to him. However, his stomach did not gnaw in hunger; Edward felt as though he couldn't eat another bite of food in eternity.

And his port was still throbbing. He wriggled his other hand experimentally and to his surprise, he had not been chained to the wall. He glanced around the rest of the room – non-existent hackles rising – and realized he was in the same positon. Scattered across the floor, broken chains were piled loose around him from his "breakout" last night (or morning, or afternoon).

-You could use them, you know.-

Fuck off. I'm nowhere near finished in this world yet.

He was resting his head on Al's shoulder. His brother was restlessly shifting in his sleep, but he was nevertheless dreaming. His body needed as much of that as he could get before they planned to escape.

That thought would have to wait…

The nameless man had returned. He was perched on another stool (the shattered remnants of the previous stool still in the same place as before) and was musing over his fingernails, as if they were more interesting than the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother.

"You bastard," Ed growled, struggling to rise on his only foot. He hated being so damn short, but he hated being crippled so much worse. He turned and placed his hand against the wall (body was trembling, pulse was racing) and spat at the man's face.

NoName didn't move out of the way or bother to wipe his face. The saliva trickled down his face and the twisted-sick-morbid man licked a droplet. He raised an eyebrow in evident surprise. "You're bleeding..."

Ed then became cognizant about his bleeding lip (he had been biting down so damn hard). He hobbled into a protective stance to protect his brother.

The man's hoodless face suddenly sharpened. It was like an alchemic current had been drawn across his features with the change from relaxed to fearsone. Suddenly, he was standing upright; suddenly, his lips were pursued; suddenly, his steely gaze made Edward flinch.

"What do you want from us, you bas-" Edward didn't finish because the man started screaming.

You're bleeding nonono you're not supposed to inflict anymore injury upon yourself without my saying so!"

"What the Hel-"

The black-haired man lithely moved forward to stand in front of Edward, breathing heavily, the scent of decay and blood heavy on his plain shirt. "I think this is a sign."

And the man drew out a dagger from his back pocket. Without so much as a word, he sliced vertically from Ed's left elbow to his fingertips. There was a thick, wet slash as the weapon imbedded into his skin, and sprays of blood accompanied the blade's biting touch. Edward's feet staggered, but it was his good arm (his only arm) and he wouldn't dare scream.

Impeccably clean palms (how were they so goddamn clean?) clasped around his wrist, squeezing and controlling the flow of blood into a vial that had materialised from the man's back pocket (had he been planning this the entire time?). As Edward struggled against the hold, twisting and snarling and biting, his body was feeble, and he was panting without exerting any force. His head lolloped as he attempted to catch his breath, and he watched through his bangs as the blood poured not into a vial, but an ink bottle, for the man to use as an ink for his pen.

"Yes, I will need to record this in my journal. Thank you, Edward, I was running out of blood!" the man had started to giggle to himself. Horrified, Edward looked down at his arm and saw multiple, similar scars vertically tracing his arm. The scent of infection was heavy in the air.

"Leave my brother alone, you bastard," Ed growled. Those cuts were just another reason to add to his mental list of "Why I want to slit this bastard's throat".

"I can agree with you on that, Edward. I've already finished my work on him…" the man mused sadly, as if he had grown bored of his little toys. He could twist and break and sew them back together again, but when his toys became boring, there was nothing he could do except replacing them with shiny, new toys.

And Edward was the new toy.

If Al was the old one-

He had been used by this man for his torture games. Because that was what toys were used for, games.

His little brother had been hurt.

How dare you!?" Edward hissed, and without considering his weakened, infection-riddled state, he lunged at the man and bit down as hard as he could on his neck, hoping to draw blood. His overgrown nails slashed and clawed as he attempted to pierce skin. He howled like a wounded animal as he was kicked brutally down there, lifted high into the air, his flailing limbs useless like a fish out of water.

"Bad" the man said. And he flung Edward into a wall.

The effect was similar to the smashing stool. But all that Edward could register was a whirlwind of pain and snapping bone. There was a popping noise as well as his right leg dislocated. Ed was reeling, his world spinning as he battled against waves of nausea and unconsciousness which wanted to take him hostage.

While he was spinning, he was also falling. The ground could have opened up and swallowed him up whole for all he knew. He had become disorientated and confused (if he wasn't so already) and he curled himself tightly in a ball hoping to make this pain go away-

"Three broken ribs, dislocated right leg, left collarbone broken," the man listed off emotionlessly. He glided to Ed's side and lowered his head until he was but inches from the boy's face.

Bad" his voice rattled. Despite feeling as if he had been thrown off a cliff (which could have happened for all he knew), he proceeded to spit in the man's face one more time.

"Fuck you."

"Ha! Excellent! Now we can move onto the next phase. You are a willful one, are you not, Edward? Good," the man breathed the last word, as if he sounded relieved.

Hands went around his rest and Ed struggled feebly, but his chest was hurting (stab, stab, stab with each breath he took) and he was being slung over the man's shoulder.

"No, Al! I won't….leave my brother!" Edward screamed as he was being taken towards the door. he pounded his left fist against the man's skull, but his blows were harmless; the man didn't even glance up.

"Oh, Edward. You should have said so! Of course you can remain with your brother. Luckily we have the equipment set up at this station as well. We only move our guests during the procedure for…health and safety reasons."

Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

"Guests" - being restrained and tortured against their will. "Station" – their prison.

Edward was hesitant (and oh God he was afraid) about what the "equipment" was.

"Just, leave my brother alone. Don't touch him," Edward choked on his breath, his chest rattling painfully. The infection in his arm throbbed. If only he could focus on that pain, breathe and focus, and perhaps it would help control his giddy head. He closed his eyes and focused his thoughts on the infection, on his burning skin, on the lacerations. He chuckled lightly.

This was worse than automail that was for sure.

Hidden in the corner of the room, disguised by shadow was a single chair and then, next to that, the equipment.

"Now, I said that this room prevents you from using alchemy…" the man lifted Edward down on the chair. His hand and leg were restrained quickly and methodically, like he had performed this procedure one too many times.

"All of the alchemic energy that our guests use, it's transported into this device here," he tapped his hand upon the device fondly. "And then we can amplify that power to harness what we would like! Think of that potential!"

Edward glared at the form of the man's shadow, which seemed to be stretching and wrapping its touch around every speck of light he saw. The room suddenly felt colder.

He shivered.

Ed knew what that could do. He knew why he was here, despite being as disorientated as the Colonel Bastard without coffee.

The pain in his arm was starting to come back as he was distracted. Focus.

"What are you going to do then, bastard," Ed stated, although his voice wavered. He didn't want to give the impression that he knew what was about to happen. He sure did. But he didn't want to give No Name the advantage of knowing he was terrified.

Just don't touch my brother.

-What if they have already?-

Al…

-Hmm, some great big brother you are. Didn't you swear to protect him?-

I will protect him and follow him into Hell.

-Well good luck then, because here we are.-

"This machine provides the alchemic current. And you are the magnet, dear alchemist. The energy from this machine is drawn into you as the energy seeks a vessel. If you can overcome its resistance, you are free to harness its power at will!"

The old alchemic texts mentioned nothing about this. They were old, as were many of the traditional methods of obtaining power through alchemy (the Philosopher's Stone). However, industry was sailing through Amestris faster than a riptide. Alchemy was evolving and shifting. There were new ways to control its power.

"But so far, every alchemist wasn't able to overcome the residual charge; your brother came closest, but it wasn't quite there. I've hypothesised that the greater the alchemist's innate ability, the more likely they are able to overcome the resistance! And so you, Edward…"

His brother had been used by this machine like he was nothing but mindless energy?

-But you lost his body and left him a barren soul. Didn't that mean he had just become mindless energy to be used up?-

"Piss off!" Ed cried as he lashed against the restraints.

"We had better get started before your drugs wear off anymore. Otherwise the pain you'll feel will be considerably worse…"

Edward heard the flicking of a switch, and suddenly, the lights above started to twinkle and flash strangely. They seemed to disconnect from the ceiling, dancing, twirling fireflies that bobbled in front of him, glowing with a radiant orange tint. It was a mesmerising sight, and his whole world became focused on those lights, as if the contained every wish and hope that he wanted to come true.

He wanted to touch the lights, but his hand recoiled when they started to crackle with alchemic energy. He tried to back away, but he was pressed against the chair and there was nowhere for him to hide. The lights were twisting and shifting now, morphing into something grotesque. They were now maroon, drifting closer and closer to his fragile form.

They may have made contact. They may have never made contact. Because Edward closed his eyes, ending the vision and screamed.

The only sensation his brain could compare it to be was the feeling he had when he transmuted. When he was transmuting, he had perfect control over the shifting of energy coursing through his connected hands, the array blazing in his mind as the alchemy bent to his will. However, this sensation was reversed. He had no control as the alchemic energy started eating up at his very consciousness, draining his limited supply of energy.

And then in his foggy brain, over his shrill cries of pain, Ed understood that NoName's methods for starving his "guests" were methodical. When the body was under a huge ordeal, it would pump more energy into resolving it. And so his body was expending more energy than it would have done if he was fit and healthy (would he ever be again).

The energy was leeching his soul like a parasite would suck blood from its victim.

The pain in his arm intensified, the world a series of blinding hues of black and red and orange flashing lights-

His screaming ricocheted off the walls, climbing to a sonorous pitch.

Fuck it hurt.

Fight it, keep quiet. Al suffered so much for you…

-He did, didn't he.-

Not now, I don't need you now.

-This is the Truth, Edward Elric. It's bad to tell lies.-

The alchemic energy had completed draining his soul of energy, leaving his body exhausted, and he wished he could sleep for eternity. But that energy now had to go somewhere. It started to burn through his body, inside out, starting from his heart, as if it was travelling down his bloodstream. He kicked his foot against the floor and shouted and his fist flailed outwards in every direction.

The contorting and constricting feeling that had manifested then quickened and reached every corner of his body. As if waiting for the right cue, it suddenly sent a spark of pain so overwhelming Edward doubled over and vomited bile and blood onto the floor. It was like a voltage had switched off the muscles throughout his skeletal frame (except for his heart and those muscles keeping him alive). His body became limp. Paralyzed.

The pain was somehow worsening, but he couldn't scream or kick or bite, he could do nothing but wait and watch with panicked, bulging eyes.

He waited for his heart to burst.

Bile was collecting in his throat, but he was so weak he couldn't even hack it up. It swirled in his throat for several seconds and its acidic touch slipped back down his throat. It went down the wrong way…he should be coughing…paralyzed muscles…but he started to choke on his own vomit…

That was when he heard the laughing.

It was a delighted sound, a high-pitched cackle of pure euphoria, as if the person had everything he ever desired wrapped tightly in his fists.

-You are an abomination, a creature of the Devil.-

No, I'm Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist.

-Where did that get you? How has that helped Alphonse?-

He felt this, all of this?

-All of it, and so much more.-

Edward's screams fell dead. Hell, it hurt. Of course it fucking hurt.

The pain was lancing through his form like wildfire, an unquenchable burst of flames that not even rain could diminish. Flashing lights danced before his eyes and the dim echo of a madman's laughter reached his ears.

He didn't give a shit about his own pride. If he had been unconscious for a month and a half, then his dignity would have been stripped from him (literally), but he wouldn't speak.

He wouldn't let them do anything to Al.

The torrent of pain was beginning to subside…the machine must have been finishing what it was doing…

He waited until it dulled down. He expected the pain would be with him for the rest of his life after his form had been mutilated the way it had.

And then: punch, punch punch. Three consecutive punches one to his abdomen, one to his chest, and one to his skull. Each fist connected with brutal strength, leaving Edward's head staggering.

NoName. Ed didn't have time to react as the monster re-plugged the machine from over the top of his heart straight into his infected port. He flicked the switch again.

His port was made of metal, an excellent conductor. The energy would pass easily through. And there were scraps of metal and wires lodged under his skin-

Flash. Burn.

He couldn't-

Instantly, he knew he couldn't-

-What about your brother?-

Fuck that.

Pain, so much pain-

He was being burnt alive-

-You don't know what that feels like.-

FUCK YOU!

He wanted to die-

Die in that chair and get it over with-

Die-

DiediedieDIE-

-Hmm, stooping so low. Amusing.-

JUST LET ME DIE!

Let me DIE-

And it ended.

Edward closed his eyes.

-It's rather fascinating how quickly a person's resolve can shake.-

I did not mean that...

-People never say it aloud. But you thought it. You wanted to die.-

No, no, no...

-You wanted to leave Alphonse all alone without a second thought. You were only concerned about ending your own misery.-

His trousers were uncomfortable and while his muscles had relaxed, he had leaked (so little dignity you even become incontinent, you worthless fool).

Al was still unconscious; his body must have taken a toll for having alchemic charge being passed through his body like lightning. He had no energy to fight…why did he have no energy to fight?

Something dawned upon Ed's mind, as if it hadn't been obvious enough already. Perhaps it was the pain allowing him to comprehend these things, forcing his mind to think.

Focus.

His infected wound (pulsing and throbbing) couldn't have just...appeared. It must have been festering for days...weeks...months. Roiling and rotten like the pathetic boy he was. He hadn't been able to protect his brother at the hotel and even now, he had been so damn useless.

In truth, he didn't want to know how long he had been held captive for. But it was his duty to find out how many days he owed Al, Winry. The prospect that it could have been months swallowed him up with more anger than he thought was even capable for a hothead.

How many tears and sleepless nights did he owe them?

-Too many to count.-

I can't think that right now...

"Bastard – how long have we been your…guests?"

"One month, two weeks and six days," the man rattled off as if he was a child reciting their alphabet.

Edward reeled. He had been unconscious…for that entire time? For that entire fucking time?!

-You knew you were weak, so it shouldn't come as a surprise to you.-

"What did you do to my brother?" Edward hissed.

"He wasn't willing to co-operate, until we threatened to torture you that was. He was then very complacent. A very good boy," NoName nodded his head, his hands shaking as he continued. "We resumed as normal after that. Standard procedure."

Standard procedure.

Standard fucking procedure?!

Ed tugged at his restraints. And then, a very simple thought triggered in his brain. If he was at the machine now, then why couldn't he just transmute?

He started laughing and dug into his lip - he could hardly feel it - and blood coursed down his lips, past his mouth-

And then-

NoName tugged at Ed's gullet. Ed couldn't swallow; he couldn't breathe.

He wheezed and panicked and stared at those soulless eyes possessed by the Devil. What if that bastard turned on that machine again or his port-

He tried to speak but no sound came out. He wanted to holler and scream at Al - get his brother to leave.

"Bad." the black-haired man whispered, and he let go.

"ALPHONSE GET UP!" Edward screamed. His throat was dry from screaming so much. Suddenly, a wave of nausea caused him to choke up his remaining stomach contents, and his head reeled even more (if that was possible).

Al didn't wake up.

"Please, you've got to see the world, you don't h-have to wait here for me, l-little brother..." Ed stammered. He had not stammered throughout his entire life. Al didn't stir, but he was breathing heavily like an innocent child. He didn't deserve this shit.

-Oh but you do.-

"Did you want your brother awake? You should have said so!" NoName moved as quietly as water. He was by Edward's side one moment and the next he was stamping on Al's wrist. His very broken, mangled wrist.

The younger Elric awoke to wholesome agony as if served freshly on a plate at an unlimited buffet. A buffet of suffering. Al choked back a cry and turned his head from side to side in evident confusion before he turned to catch sight of his battered brother. He didn't speak; the words gurgled at the back of his mouth. But Ed saw the tears, hollow tears being shed like rain, dripping onto Al's filthy clothes and broken bones and spiraling tattoos.

His teeth was chattering, and it was only by reading his lips that he understood that Al was speaking, "Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry..."

The words however were oddly slurred, as if his brother had lost sense of the flow of vocabulary. The tiny sliver of cohesive thought began to put the pieces of the jigsaw together. Al had sounded slurred yesterday, as if he was severely hungover. And Ed knew that couldn't have happened, so there must have been another cause.

"Sorrysorrysorrysorry badbadBAD..." Al continued to slur and mutter, shivering and staring at the ground at empty puddles, his for quaking. His eyes were lampless and dull. Ed couldn't bear to see his brother like this. They had to be together and even though they were so close to each other, the blond had never felt so far apart from Al...

As if a deity had answered his confused and discourse prayers, a very, very old memory came forth in his mind's eye. Ed had been young, but not too old. Maybe it had been when he was three-years-old. He had been reading an alchemy textbook titled The Fundamentals of Alchemy - the Mind, Body and Soul.

With his photographic memory for anything alchemy-related, Edward remembered the words concluding the second chapter: To Be an Alchemist -

An alchemist is not a scientist; we are not one and the same. While we pursue answers to this life and universe, there is one key factor that makes our pursuit different. We seek the Truth. In the stable system where all five elements stabilise in an equilibrium called "quintessence", the alchemist can harness the tectonic energy beneath the earth and bend it to his will.

For this state to be achieved, the alchemist needs to understand the truth about their self - their abilities, their power, their ambitions - because these all collate into what we distinguish as perfection. An alchemist needs to understand their own mind, body and soul before they are able to understand the matter in this Universe. It is the alchemist's privilege to connect with the earth using each of their senses. Only when they understand themselves and their place in this world can quintessence be attainable.

Edward had initially been mesmirised by those words, but after he saw the Truth with his own eyes, he realized what a bunch of crap that all was. However, there was one piece in the text that he looked at. He could picture the page, feel its rough texture beneath his palm, hear the swishing of parchment and look at the arrangement of letters on the page. "Using each of their senses."

It clicked. The mumbling, the hesitation...

Ed's eyes widened, in denial. It all had to be a lie, a terrible, horrific bad lie.

He called Al's name softly.

"Alphonse."

...

"Al."

...

"Brother."

...

Nothing. Al didn't look up or respond.

The wall that Ed had surrounded around himself, the wall that had made sure he could stop himself from screaming, the barricade that allowed him to control the pain to his will (even if partially) and think rational thoughts melted away like sinking sand.

Seeing his brother so helpless had broken him.

Al was deaf.

A deeply-set growl started rumbling in Ed's throat, and his golden eyes cloaked over with a feral madness like the ushering of a storm. He was going to rip out that bastard's throat and hear him cry out in pain until he screamed no more.

He didn't notice the tears streaming down his face.

Alphonse's head was groggy (when wasn't it these days), but he instantly knew that he was not with his brother. It was like his soul could sense where his brother was like a beacon, radiating a fiery orange light that told Al that everything was going to be alright.

How he wanted to speak to his brother, just to tell Ed that he was alright.

In truth, maybe he wasn't "alright". He had been starved for the past week because it improved his readings on the machine they plugged him to for an hour every morning and night. He had screamed the first number of times before he had become used to it.

However, Brother didn't wake up. He never woke up.

He slept and wrestled in his dreams as his body desperately fought the infection at his shoulder port. Whenever Al had tried to edge closer to his brother, they would beat him (and they would beat Al too but he didn't care about that). Al had to watch his brother suffer and he couldn't intervene otherwise he would have caused Ed more suffering.

It sickened him down to the soul.

His own body was so damn weak - it sent a ripple of anger coursing throughout his mind that he had grown accustomed too. He felt as if he was being force-fed with negative emotions - discourse, fear, rage, frustration - and with each day that passed, his mind was slipping, slipping into a dark and unfathomable place.

He glanced around wearily at his surroundings. He had learnt to be as subtle as possible (Al didn't want to let his captors know that he was awake). In the early hours of the morning, or at least when Al and Ed were left alone in their cell, Al had started to break free at the manacles around his leg and arm. Without alchemy and a fully functioning body, his progress was dragging. Finally though, three weeks in (he marked the days clearly in his mind - it offered him little clarity and reassurance) he had managed to break the chain around his foot. And two days later, the distinct pop of the manacle around his hands had broken too. "Arduous" was an understatement - getting free from these chains had taken him nearly a month to complete in his feeble state.

When the black-haired man had found out, he had beaten one eye bloody and snapped his wrist. Since then, a weak had passed. Al could barely muster the energy to moan during the procedure.

Instead, he had started to recite the Laws of Alchemy - in-between his panting and gasps of pain - to remind him that he was an alchemist and as was his brother. And they still had a world that needed saving. How could he give up when there were people suffering...just like Nina, and just like Ed.

That thought alone made him endure the agony of an alchemic current coursing through his veins, one that he was unable to control. He felt like a foreigner in his own body when the procedure occurred, as if even alchemy had abandoned him.

"E-Equivalent E-Exchang-ge...fir-rst pri-nciple..." Al would stutter. And every time he was beaten up, two thoughts would come to his mind. The first was the image of his brother living with his decaying flesh wound, and the next was of a glittering pair of eyes in the darkness mouthing the word "bad".

"Bad, bad, bad..." Al was mumbling. He didn't even realize that he had spoken. With his one good eye, he squinted and inspected the dank space-

And suddenly, he recoiled-

Bad bad bad bad-

Those glittering hazel eyes were watching him happily, too happily. Alphonse curled and shrunk back, hoping he could blend into the wall.

Don't let those morons get to you, Al. You're stronger than those bastards. If they ever hurt you, I would beat them to a pulp.

Brother?

Brother...he had to be strong for Ed.

"N-no...y-you won't t-touch him," Al choked, the words strange amid the blend of screaming he had become so used to hearing by now. The man never interrogated him - he only seemed interested in the power Al could harness.

"I won't. You've been a very good boy, Alphonse Elric. Well done." And the man smiled, teeth pointed and jagged like fangs.

The lights suddenly flashed on. Al flinched away from the light. He was in a white room...at a dining room table...as if he was about to eat dinner like he did with Brother and Mama. He would be praised and encouraged to protect the world with alchemy. He had been made to believe that he was a hero.

Lies.

He tried to be brave, but he shuddered as he stared at the one item on the table. A glass vase rested on its surface with white daffodils poking out - freshly-picked, blooming - like an ornate decoration.

"I won't touch him...yet."

Bad.

Bad.

BAD.

Ha first cliffhanger - were any of you expecting that? :)

Three parts up in three days. Nice...And the writing frenzy doesn't want to end there. Chapter 4 Velocity will be up for Wednesday.

Here are some things to note in case the narration was not clear:

1) The last part with Alphonse was a flashback to a month after their imprisonment. This occurs two weeks before (nearly three weeks) Ed wakes up.

2) Where there is a "-" followed by italic writing is a summation of the darker thoughts the characters experience in their sub-consciousness.

I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you with the next update. :)