A/N: Hello friends! Sorry for the delay, other readers already know that my life has been consumed by training for my new job. However, rest assured that I have no plans to abandon this series, and if i did, I would always let you guys know so that we celebrate its send-off with a bang! The response for this story has been too amazing to do otherwise, and I appreciate every one of you that continues to follow, favorite, and review this series. You guys rock so hard!

Also, I have no idea where this plot line came from. I had so much fun in Chapter 22, experimenting with outside perspectives, that I guess this just bled over. But I kind of adore the narrator that ended up being spawned, so I hope you all enjoy him as well!

I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and am making no money from this work.

Initiation

On day fifteen of his captivity, they informed him that he'd be receiving a roommate.

"A brain buddy," the brawny leader had elaborated, and then laughed until the sound of it had bounced off the stone walls surrounding them.

And he was torn, spent a significant chunk of time after his captor's departure staring at his empty cell. Because he felt horrible, really, that someone else was going to be subjected to this, to being trapped inside this stone room with no windows and forced to work on something he didn't support.

But he was comforted too, that he wasn't going to be alone anymore, and experiencing that quiet relief was a million times worse than the sick regret he felt on the surface.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, an older and experienced genius maybe, to fill in the gaps in knowledge that his age created. Sure as shit he wasn't expecting the boy that they shoved inside his cell.

"Um," he said, going over instinctively to help the boy to his feet. They'd pushed him through the door hard enough to send him stumbling on hands and knees, ripping his pants and bloodying his palms. "Wow, okay. So, you're like twelve."

The boy looked at him, big blue eyes hot with annoyance and face blossoming with nasty bruises, and said with great indignation, "I'm twenty-three."

"False," he countered without thinking, because fifteen days alone in a stone room made speaking your thoughts out loud a necessary tactic for preserving your sanity. "That's just…no way are you older than me."

The boy sighed.

"I'm used to having someone so much younger around," he said, mournfully. "So much younger, and so much louder, and the rest of us sort of go unnoticed when he's around. I forgot that people tend to get distracted by my…face." He smiled then, sweet and forgiving and shit was he going to die in here. "I'm Fuery. Kain Fuery; I work for the military."

He took a minute to process that, because what the hell, this guy still looked like a teenager, and then eventually replied with, "Okay. I'm Adam Cross. I, uh…don't work for the military?"

Kain Fuery laughed a little, and allowed Adam to tug him to his feet. And he really must not have been lying about the military thing, because the bruises and the blood appeared not to bother him at all.

"But you do something," he said. "Or else you wouldn't be here, right?"

"I'm a student," Adam said. "In my last year at the University in Central. Engineering."

Fuery nodded.

"That makes sense," he said, taking in the stone walls around them, the sleeping pallets shoved against the wall, and the table in the center of the cell, covered in parts and wires.

"Did they tell you why we're here?" Adam asked.

Fuery shrugged.

"Not really," he said. "But people only tend to kidnap me for one reason, so."

What?

"Have…have you been kidnapped enough times for there to be a list?"

Fuery shrugged again.

"Not really a list," he said. "I told you, people only seem to want me for one reason. The Colonel, he gets a list. And Edward, people love to kidnap Edward. We have a chart in the office."

Adam stared.

"It's color-coded," Fuery added with a smile, like this was a normal conversation to be having.

Adam wanted to laugh. Or maybe cry. He hadn't really been sleeping; it was sort of hard to tell.

"So, we're building taps," Fuery said, after walking to the table and staring at its contents for roughly thirty seconds. "Bugs for phones and buildings, new ones that the people we're tapping won't be able to recognize, right?"

"Oh," Adam said. "Okay, you're a genius. That's why they kidnapped you."

"I'm not a genius," Fuery said absently, running his fingers over a clump of exposed wires. "I have a skill set. I know geniuses though, I'll introduce you."

"You…will?"

"Sure," Fuery said. "They'll be in the group that comes to get us."

Adam sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Which was a bad idea, because it was sticky and dirty and he wanted a shower like breathing.

"I don't know," he said, slowly because he didn't want to crush this Fuery guy's hopes. "I mean, I thought someone might come looking for me. But it's been two weeks, and I'm still here."

The look Fuery gave him was made of sympathy.

"I'm sorry," he said, sweetly. "That must have been horrible. Probably the best case scenario then, me getting kidnapped. We'll get you out for sure."

We. We'll get you out. Like Fuery wasn't stuck inside the same stone cell as Adam. Like he wasn't covered by bruises courtesy of the guys that had kidnapped them. Like he had absolute faith in his group of military buddies that were apparently really good at getting kidnapped.

Sure. Okay.

Fuck his life so hard.

….

"It's not like we try to get kidnapped," Fuery explained over the work table the next morning, after a night spent shivering on separate sleeping pallets. "It just sort of happens. To all of us. A lot."

"Uh-huh," Adam said, filthy glasses stuck to his face as he banged away at the nearest radio box.

Fuery was smiling brightly through a still-bruised face and casually stripping wires with a speed that left Adam blinking. So he figured it might be best to just…not engage.

"Except Hawkeye," Fuery added, bundling his wires and setting them aside. "I mean, they tried once. Took her because she's so close to the Colonel. It…ah. It didn't end well."

Adam's eye twitched.

"She sort of…walked away from it. With the handcuffs still attached. Walked into the office and gave us the address. There may have been citations for excessive force." Fuery reached for a new set of wires. "I don't think they were ever filed, though."

"Great," Adam said, and hoped Fuery couldn't hear the very obvious what the hell in his voice.

"There haven't been any attempts, after that," Fuery continued. "Although, the building that she was held in burning down afterward may have had something to do with that."

"Oh my God," Adam said, closing his eyes and forgetting his non-engagement completely. Because how was this someone's life?

"They never proved that it was the Colonel," Fuery said soothingly. "Just, you know. Nobody kidnaps Hawkeye anymore."

Adam may have made a sound sort of like dying, but he really wasn't going to admit that out loud.

And then the door to their cell burst open, and the leader of the men who'd kidnapped them, a thickly muscled man who went by Whip, marched in.

"Gentlemen," he said, in a voice too cultured for his burly frame. Adam hated it. It sounded like oil, smooth and dirty. "Working away, I see."

Adam fixed his hands on his radio box, and refused to answer. Answering ended up in fists coming at his face, or his back, and Adam wasn't like Fuery. Wasn't trained to deal with that.

"I'm glad to see you've adjusted to efficiency so quickly, Mister Fuery," Whip added, arms folded across his chest. "Care to update me on your progress?"

"Sure," Fuery said brightly. "I'm stripping these wires."

"And what purpose will that serve?"

"Makes them unusable," Fuery said, severing wires even as he spoke, smile soft and small and unrepentant.

Whip's face went as dark as storm clouds. The fist to Fuery's face was short and brutal, buckling the guy over the table. Adam's hands went tight around his radio box, and his heart pounded thick and heavy in his throat.

"Your cooperation would be appreciated, Master Sergeant," Whip said quietly. "We put a great deal of time and effort into recruiting you to join young Mr. Cross."

Fuery coughed blood against the table, pulled from his newly ruined mouth, and said nothing at all.

"You have two hours," Whip concluded. "Show me something useable in that time, Mister Fuery, or I'll forget my promise of lenience."

He shut the door behind him without any words for Adam at all. He wasn't sure if he was grateful for it, or just stuck on horrified.

"Shit," he said, skirting the table to where Fuery was still bent over it. "Are you okay?"

Not engaging to avoid catching crazy was all well and good, but the guy was bleeding on the table, had taken a truck-sized fist to the face. You didn't ignore stuff like that. Couldn't.

"Fine," Fuery said, and sighed through blood stained lips. "I really wish he would stop hitting me. The worse I look, the harder it'll be for me to keep him in one piece once the others show up."

Adam boggled. Boggled, because priorities. This guy had none.

"You…what…seriously?"

"I can contain Breda and Havoc. Falman, probably. Al might be able to control Ed, depending on how mad he is himself. But Hawkeye. She gets protective. Like, really quietly protective, which is so much worse than anything else."

"I…see," Adam said, a bit dizzily, as he handed Fuery a work rag to wipe his mouth with. It was stained with oil and dirt, but it was better than seeing so much red on his face.

"So, I kind of need him to stop hitting me," Fuery repeated, and tossed the rag away like his blood was nothing. "People like to hit me, especially when I'm kidnapped, because of the way I look." He smiled a little, like this was an understandable thing. "But we need him not full of bullet holes if he's going to answer questions after this is over."

"Bullet holes," Adam said slowly.

"Hawkeye likes guns."

"Okay. So, I never, ever want to meet her. Ever. Fair?"

….

For two hours, Adam watched Fuery build exactly nothing useful, instead choosing to make a small tower out of the wires he'd stripped. For two hours, he felt his own anticipation build like a slow fire inside his stomach.

It roared to life, inferno style, upon the opening of the door.

Whip asked his questions, in that silky smooth voice that Adam hated like burning.

Fuery smiled a little, apologized for being unable to meet Whip's demands. Stood his ground so sweetly, and Adam wanted to scream.

It was bad this time. Whip hit him way more than once, in a lot of different places, until Fuery was sprawled out across the stone floor, breathing hard. Adam was pressed against the wall, silent and sick with it, eyes huge as he studied Fuery's mottled face.

"I would suggest that you work to exert a more positive influence on the Master Sergeant, Mister Cross," Whip said, and his eyes pinned Adam in place against the stones at his back. "I'd hate for your productivity to be damaged by his bad behavior."

Adam said nothing, just stared at Fuery's blood, freckling the floor.

He didn't go to him until after Whip had shut the door behind him. The shame of it, the guilt, burned in his gut like acid.

"Hey," he said, and pushed gently at Fuery's shoulders until he was resting on his back. "Hey, are you with me?"

"Uggh," Fuery answered, which was, you know. Justified.

He was breathing wrong. Cracked ribs, or broken maybe.

"You just," Adam said helplessly, fingers frozen uselessly over Fuery's battered ribs. "Can't you just…do what they say?"

There was that smile again. Gentle and soft and Adam kind of wanted to wipe it away with a fist of his own because that smile was made of crazy.

"Nope," he said, and coughed a little.

"Why?" Adam asked, and he may have wailed a little, but this guy was a mess all over the floor, and the tiny prickles of shame were going to drive him nuts before the end.

"Can't," Fuery said, and coughed again. "They never told me, but I know what they want to do with those taps. I'm military, remember? I know what a rebel faction looks like when I see it."

Adam kept quiet as he helped Fuery into a sitting position, because they'd never actually told him why they'd taken him from the dorms, and understanding didn't mean he had to commit to Fuery's crazy train.

"They want to tap the higher-ups," Fuery continued, and grimaced as his body protested the new position. "The officers of rank, the ones who make the decisions. They want to listen in on their conversations."

"Okay," Adam said. "I mean, yeah, that's bad. But come on. Whip is going to beat you bloody if you don't dance here. It's just a little talking, right?"

Fuery shook his head, and laughed a little.

"Can't," he repeated. "The Colonel. He'll tap the Colonel."

"Okay," Adam said again, because he was trying to understand, really he was, but he still felt like he wasn't getting it. "But Fuery, I'm sure the Colonel would understand. I mean, he wouldn't expect you to say no and get beaten to death, right? Can't fix it if you're dead."

"He wouldn't expect it of me," Fuery agreed. "Not really, even though he might let others think he would. But that's the whole reason why I'm saying no. You see?"

Wow, he really, really didn't.

"It's okay," Fuery said gently, and patted at Adam's arm. Like he was the one who needed comforting. "You don't have to understand. You're doing great."

Adam shut his eyes, and dragged Fuery over to his sleeping pallet.

….

"I handle it better than Ed," Fuery said the next morning. "Getting kidnapped."

Whip had entered the cell in the very early hours of the morning. He hadn't come alone. Adam had laid on his sleeping pallet, curled up and quaking, and listened as Whip had made his demands in that slick, slithery voice. As Fuery had calmly repeated the same word over and over. As the echo of numerous fists and feet had filled the tiny cell.

He was going to puke, he was pretty sure, once he finished making sure Fuery was okay.

"Oh?" he said, and absolutely refused to acknowledge the way his voice was shaking. He was an Engineering student, just an Engineering student, but he knew what a concussion looked like when he saw one.

"Ed's a really bad hostage," Fuery continued, and his smile was crooked due to the fact that his lip was split down one side. "I mean, we all are, but Ed just really hates it. Gets annoyed and blows things up. Probably because he gets kidnapped the most."

"Because he's special?" Adam asked, and he didn't really care (really!) but he wanted to keep Fuery talking.

"So special," Fuery agreed. "A genius. He's so young though. Shouldn't have to deal with it. Shouldn't have to deal with any of it." He sighed. "Still. It's better than the alternative."

"What's the alternative?"

"Ed's a really bad a hostage," Fuery repeated. "But he's so much worse when his brother is the one that's missing."

"Well. I'm sure his brother…appreciates that." It shouldn't be a thing, shouldn't be something normal.

Fuery laughed. By the sound of it, it hurt several things inside.

"Not really," he said. "But it's what has to happen. The Colonel gets it. He knows. I don't think they ever talked about it, he and Ed, but there was a mission once, and a choice, and the Colonel let Ed get dragged away instead of Al."

Adam froze.

"He just…what?"

"Had to happen," Fuery repeated. "Al was so angry. But Ed actually let the Colonel make fun of him for like, a week after it was over, so it was the right choice."

Adam stared.

"It's a thing," Fuery elaborated. "That they do. Ed and the Colonel."

"Okay," Adam said.

"You'll see," Fuery said, a bit dreamily. "When they get here, I think you'll see it. Ed doesn't. We think the Colonel does. But I think you'll see it, because a lot of people on the outside do."

"Great," Adam said, and didn't talk about how it had already been two days, and Whip hadn't seemed worried, not concerned at all.

….

"Tell me about the rest," Adam said, a little later.

Whip had come, around lunch time. He'd broken Fuery's fingers, on his left hand. Said that if Fuery forced him to break the fingers on his right, it would signal the end of his usefulness, and Whip would get rid of him for good.

Adam had rushed him then, because apparently crazy was an infectious thing. He'd gotten his very own fist to the face for his trouble.

"You shouldn't have done that," Fuery said, and he was hilarious when he tried to sound stern. "You have to keep your head down, Adam. You have to let me handle this."

"Yeah, I don't know," Adam said, and laughed a little. His stomach felt light, like it was filled with bubbles. The fire was gone. "I really don't. I'm pretty sure it's your fault."

Fuery tried to frown. Adam giggled. Owned the fact that he was giggling.

Adrenaline was such a crazy bitch.

"You look like a kitten," he offered, and wondered why his adrenaline tasted a little bit like relief. "Like a really disappointed kitten. Tell me about the rest of your team."

Fuery blinked at him. He was having a hard time focusing, Adam could see, and his breathing was weak and reedy with pain.

"Breda," he said slowly. "Havoc. And Falman."

"Do they get kidnapped too?"

"Um," Fuery said, and shut his eyes. Adam shook him until they opened again. "Sometimes. Havoc not as much. He once annoyed his kidnappers into giving him back."

Adam snorted.

"And Breda," Fuery continued. "He has this talent. He can sleep anywhere. Really annoys the people who take him hostage."

"And Falman?" Adam asked.

"Falman," Fuery repeated. "Not as often as he should, considering what he knows. But when he does get taken, it's…bad. He doesn't…handle it well. Shuts down on us for days afterward. The Colonel knows to rescue him the quickest."

"I can't decide if that's really touching or kind of a dick thing," Adam confessed.

Fuery couldn't smile, his mouth was so swollen. But it was there, in his eyes.

"No," he slurred. "It's okay. He just needs time, and space, and no missions for at least a week. We know."

"That's nice," Adam said, and tried not to look at his mangled fingers.

"You're a good kid," Fuery said. "Nice. And smart. I know you're going to do well, once we get out of here."

"Sure," Adam said.

"And you'll like Havoc and Breda," Fuery said, and he sounded soft and floaty and wrong and it was killing Adam's buzz. But the relief was still there, weirdly enough. "You'll let them corrupt you. That's fun for them."

"Sounds great," Adam said, because he could believe in the team without believing that they would come.

…

That night, Adam dismantled everything that he'd built with shaking hands and what was probably a terrifying grin.

Fuery drifted in and out of consciousness, but his eyes were warm and weirdly sad whenever he was awake.

….

"You're a jerk," Adam decided early the next day.

The cell was a mess. The work table was overturned and the sleeping pallets ripped to shreds. Whip hadn't been pleased by his discovery in the wee hours of the morning.

Adam was sprawled on the stone floor, trying to cope with the fact that everywhere on his body hurt. The pain was ringing in his ears like bells, and he was pretty sure his arm was broken, but the buzz was back as well, and he felt like laughing.

"A total jerk," he repeated to the figure sprawled out next to him.

Fuery. Who wasn't moving. Moving, speaking, or smiling anymore.

"I mean, I might have lived," he said, and he was laughing, grinning hard enough to make his abused jaw scream, but there were tears rolling down his cheeks too. "Probably not, but maybe. I would have kept my head down. But then you just had to show up with your smiles and speeches and your stupid team of stupid people who have all of these stupid morals, and you're just such a jerk, Fuery."

He'd tried to stop them. Jumped on Whip's back as soon as he'd turned on Adam. Eyes dilated from the concussion, broken hand waving like a useless thing, and he'd still jumped.

"Asshole," he gasped, and fumbled for Fuery's wrist when the door swung open.

"Gonna hurt," he muttered, mostly to himself, as he tried to ease his body over Fuery's. "Yep. Really gonna hurt."

He was expecting Whip. Whip, and his thug posse, and maybe some firearms. So, really, his confusion when it wasn't was completely understandable.

"Shit," he slurred, through a rapidly swelling jaw. "Another infant."

Hot golden eyes went sharp and narrow.

"Okay," the kid decided. "So, I'll hit you for that. Later." He turned toward the door. "Bastard! He's in here!"

"What," Adam decided, as more people began to flood the room.

Three men, dressed in military blues identical to Fuery's.

One kid, maybe fourteen, with a red jacket and a sneer.

One woman, gun in hand and look of mild irritation on her face.

One giant suit of armor.

"What?" Adam confirmed.

Another man, in another military uniform, knelt down at Adam's side and scanned both him and Fuery with dark eyes.

And Adam began to laugh as the pieces connected in his blurry brain. Loudly. Probably a little bit hysterically.

"You're him," he said. "You're them. Aren't you? The Colonel, and his team."

Dark eyes locked on his. Calculating. Scary smart. Adam might have been tempted to hide, had he not given all of his fucks already.

"Fuery talked about us," the Colonel said, with just a hint of warmth.

"Fuery is an idiot," Adam said earnestly, and then passed out before anyone could disagree with him.

….

He woke up in a bed. His hair was clean, he was wearing a soft set of pajamas, and every inch of him felt wrapped in bandages.

A vast improvement over his previous living condition.

"Garrrgh," he offered, throat sticky and sore, and then jumped like a tiny child when a glass of water appeared underneath his nose.

"Here," the woman with the blank face and the large firearm said.

Adam took a small sip, because like hell he was going to do anything opposite of what she told him, eyes wide and fixed.

"Please don't shoot me," he croaked, once the glass was taken away.

A tiny smile curved her lips. He wasn't sure whether to interpret that as a positive or negative reaction, and so settled on maintaining his state of mild terror.

"Fuery," he whispered, because he might have been terrified, but he also had to know. "Is he…he wasn't moving. He wasn't moving, and he stopped smiling, so something had to be wrong. Where is he?"

For a moment, the woman considered him out of serene sherry colored eyes.

"Fuery is alive," she finally said. "Recovering. He was injured, but he'll be all right."

Relief sprinted up Adam's spine, and he relaxed against his pillowcase.

"Good," he said. "That's good." He cracked one eye open hesitantly. "He said you would come for us."

The woman-Hawkeye, Fuery said her name was Hawkeye and that nobody kidnapped her anymore because buildings were burned down when they tried-tilted her head.

"And you didn't think we would?" she asked softly.

Adam tried for a shrug. Immediately regretted it.

"Well, I didn't know," he said. "I didn't know you."

"And now that you've been introduced?"

Adam laughed. It made his throat hurt.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, you were always going to come." He let his head loll back, exhausted. "Fuery's still an idiot, though. You can shoot me if you want. I stand by that."

Something like consternation crossed Hawkeye's face.

"No one is arguing with you," she murmured, and surprised another laugh out of Adam.

The sound of wheels interrupted the quiet of the room, and Adam sat straight up (painfully) in his bed as Fuery was wheeled into the room, pushed by one of the three military men Adam had seen in the cell.

"He wouldn't sleep," the man said, soundly mildly harassed. "Not without seeing you."

"Adam!" Fuery said, and his eyes were bright again, his smile there underneath the bruises and the swelling. "You're okay!"

"Go to bed," Adam countered through a tight throat. "You look like shit."

The man pushing Fuery's chair laughed. Fuery huffed.

"I knew that you and Havoc would get along," he grumped.

"Hey, make some room, would you?" Another voice rang out from the hallway. "Let the rest of us through!"

They spilled through the doorway. All of them. The two other men in the military uniforms. The boy in the bright red coat, and the armored man. Even the Colonel, eyes as dark and smart as Adam remembered.

"Nice to see you're doing better," the armor said in a surprisingly sweet voice.

"Ah," Adam said. "Thanks?"

"Why'd they snatch you?" one of the men asked. He was talking, and flanking Havoc's side, so Adam assumed he was Breda. "I mean, you're just a kid."

"I'm a student," Adam said. "At the university. An Engineering student."

"He's a student," the boy in the red coat, must be Ed, smirked. "And he called me young."

"Really, Fullmetal?" the Colonel asked, and that was a smirk on his face, Adam was sure, even though it wasn't really visible. "Really?"

"Bastard!" Ed snapped back.

"Oh," Adam said. "That's the thing."

Fuery started to laugh.

"Adam's very smart!" he chirped, because he was an idiot. "He built some really advanced taps, with really crude materials. I was sad that we had to dismantle them. I would have loved to study them!"

"Priorities, Fuery," the one Adam assumed was Falman said, looking pained, and Adam wanted to fist pump, because no kidding.

"Smart," the Colonel repeated, eyes narrowed. Adam kind of wanted to disappear. Because he knew the Colonel was calculating that Adam had not only built the taps, but then taken them apart upon Fuery's arrival. "Tell me, what are your plans for graduation, Adam?"

"No," Adam said immediately, even though it was probably really rude, and Hawkeye was still totally within firing distance. "Yeah, sorry Sir. But no. I don't care how awesome your team is, or that you apparently have geniuses on board, or that you apparently inspire enough loyalty that a guy would rather die than tap your office. You also have a kidnapping chart inside your office, and I just. Never, ever want to do this again. Okay?"

There was a beat of silence as everyone stared and Adam actually started to get nervous about that shooting thing.

But then, Ed started to laugh, loud and long.

"Shit," he snickered. "That's what I should have said."

And then Fuery was laughing, and Havoc, and Breda, and the suit of armor in the corner. And the Colonel was looking at him with something like respect, and a knowing that, yeah, Adam wasn't going to acknowledge.

He finally let himself relax, feeling safe and strangely warm in this room full of laughter.

And if he kept the information packet that Hawkeye gave him later, well, the Colonel didn't need to know just yet.