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Ed woke up with a gasp.

The nightmare ground to halt around him, the dim, darkened walls of his room screeching back into place and the straitjacket vanishing into dust. He gasped into the bed again, shivering against the thin sheets, then suddenly found himself bolting upright, patting frantically over himself to prove to his panicking mind he was still free.

Not back there. Not back there. Not back there. Not- not-

The room was so small- the walls were closing in around him- he could feel the padded rubber underneath his feet, see the rotting woman in the corner of his eye, feel the straitjacket tightening with every move he made. He couldn't breathe, coouldn't think, was terrified and alone and- and-

Another horrified breath fell out of him, stuttering past chattering teeth, and Ed pushed himself out of bed without a second thought.

One leg or not, Ed was an expert at moving now, limping down the hallway with an arm that still felt sore but fed with a determined sort of panic. If he could hop around a room in a straitjacket without falling over, then limping down the hallway with his hand on the wall was a piece of cake- as scared and shaken as he was or not.

It was dark and quiet in the hospital ward now, a darkness that was reassuring, because it had only been two days since he'd made it out of that padded cell where it was always light- and the darkness was just another anchor he could grasp onto, prove to himself he was safe. But it wasn't good enough. It never lasted for very long, it never held him in place for long enough, but that didn't matter- he didn't need it to work, he just needed for it to sustain him, keeping him going for long enough to make it just a few feet down, to reach-

Here.

Roy's room.

Ed jerked the door open, shoved himself inside, and pushed it shut again without hesitation.

He limped forward to the bed, trying not to look closely at its occupant, because if he did, he knew he'd feel guilty. He got himself close enough to steady himself on its side, limping step after step forward, opened his mouth, stopped, swallowed, then opened his mouth again. "R... Roy," he whispered, voice hoarse and cracking in the silence.

For one moment, there was nothing.

Then, with a sleepy sort of sigh, Roy squinted his eyes open, blinking past messy hair up at him, drugs and exhaustion shadowing his face. Somehow, even as hard as he was trying not to look at him, Ed found himself fighting back a wave of guilt and embarrassment, and he found himself moving backwards again before he'd even tried to explain. "I... sorry," he mumbled, blinking downwards. "I... I know I shouldn't... be here. I'm sorry... I'll... I'll j-just..."

Roy grunted wordlessly, a quiet sound of exasperation. "Come here," he ordered in a business like manner, and before Ed could give more than a startled sort of squeak of protest, Roy had wrapped an arm around his side and heaved him up onto the bed with him with next to no effort, and then he was covered with the blankets before he could even say please.

Ed flushed hotly, again finding himself stuck somewhere between embarrassment and the lingering remnants of panic. He hesitantly wound his fist around the blanket instead, grasping it as he felt Roy sit up a little and curled a protective arm around his back. "I'm... really sorry," he mumbled again, not even able to look at him.

Roy pushed gently at his shoulder, dismissively, almost. "I sleep easier, too," he said quietly, slowly patting the blankets into place over him, so much so that Ed felt as if he could just huddle up and hide underneath them and in Roy's arms and disappear forever. "Least this way, I can keep an eye on you."

Ed grimaced silently into the sheets. He knew it wasn't true. Roy could obviously sleep just fine without him here. Roy, obviously, did not wake up in a panic multiple times every night, desperately seeking for a way to not be alone. Roy, obviously, did not need to keep an eye on him, because he wasn't back in that padded cell anymore, so he was fine, and the last thing he needed to be doing was waking him up out of what little sleep they got and forcing him to share his bed like he was nothing more than a scared child.

"Go back to sleep, Fullmetal" Roy said softly over his head, arm tightening just a little more. "It's okay."

Ed swallowed, anxious guilt tightening around his heart again.

Slowly, he leaned his his head against the reassuring warmth of his shoulder, and shut his eyes to the promise of Roy's arm around his shoulders, and the hand gently combing through his hair.

Their next few days were spent on one thing, and one thing only:

Planning how to escape.

Ed had been a little worried, at first, fearful that Roy had been humoring him that first night back just to try and get him to calm down- but his worries had been put to rest the very next morning. Whatever reservations the colonel had, he was keeping them silent now, because he didn't bring them up anymore- their only focus was on how to escape.

The plans were slow work, to say the least. They had to make sure the nurses never overheard even a hint of what they were really talking about, and worse than that, Ed was pretty sure they would only have one shot. If their first attempt to break out of here failed and they were caught, he didn't know what Justin would do to them- but he knew there was a chance they wouldn't survive it.

Either way, they damn sure wouldn't get another chance to run after that.

Their planning sessions, as usual, were interrupted whenever the so-called medical staff came by to harass them again; whatever it was they wanted, they were picking up the pace. They showed up each day now, dragging Roy off towards what they called treatment while Ed had found himself in the room with the array each day- nurses and a wheelchair at his back, Justin standing at his side watching... and a pile of rocks waiting for him in the circle.

Each day, he'd transformed it into gold.

Each night, he heard the whispers of against the rules in his dreams. He didn't know what rules these were, or how he was breaking them- but he did know that what he was doing was wrong. As much as he sincerely liked alchemy, as much as he knew that it had to be genuinely good- what he was doing here wasn't right.

Each day, as if testing the limits of his power, the pile of rocks he was meant to transmute got a little bit bigger.

It caused a sense of trepidation that he didn't want to think about, because he did not want to know what this was building up to.

It had now been four days, since Ed had gotten out of the padded room that he desperately tried to never think about. Their planning had been mildly successful, even while difficult, and they'd definitely made some progress, but Ed was getting antsy and he could tell Roy was, too. The longer they sat here quietly the more it was just asking for something bad to happen. Time was running out, and they had to act.

Soon.

"I think we've got everything that we need," the colonel said haltingly, a finger tapping gently. "Luck is with us, since we're operating under the assumption the hospital is still treating us as patients, not prisoners of war- patients who aren't mentally fit at that. I'd prefer having some more information, but considering the circumstances..."

"We could try getting at their files," Ed pointed out. Swallowing a yawn, he kicked his chair around so he could lean a little more against the wall, trying to get comfortable even as he carefully oriented so he sat right in the corner. It had been days since he'd left the padded room, days since he'd let himself actively think about it- and much longer, since he'd been able to sit anywhere else. The claustrophobia seemed to just swallow him whole. "I'm sure all the information we could ever want is in there."

"Yes, but to what end? If we go snooping- for information we're not even sure exists, mind- and get caught... the risk just isn't worth it, Fullmetal." The older man sighed heavily, frowning to himself, then sent another mild glare in his direction. "We... also have another problem, though."

Ed smirked to himself. "Just one, Colonel Obvious?"

Roy groaned theatrically, once again treating him to one of the most melodramatic scowls ever. "Still can't believe I'm going out of my way to call you Fullmetal here, and all we've got for me is colonel."

"Well, what can I say? Guess I'm just a lot more important than you, to actually have a name that's cool. I mean, really." He grinned sharply, unable to help the enjoyment at the spark of annoyance in Roy's eyes. "Who wants to be called a crusty old colonel, anyway."

"...Yes. Anyway," Roy grunted. "As I was saying... a long while ago, Fullmetal, when you helped me start skipping their sedatives... you mentioned something about a memory blocker, didn't you?"

Ed almost physically felt his bold grin die.

"...Yeah," he murmured, spirits crashing and falling, just like that. "I did."

He'd been hoping, actually, to get through the rest of this place without Roy ever bringing that up again.

There was a brief moment of silence, the weight of Roy's gaze almost too heavy to bear and the look in his dark eyes everything he wanted to avoid. He shifted awkwardly in his chair, hand clenching, stomach squirming.

"Based off the look on your face, I think you already know where I'm going with this, Fullmetal," Roy said at last.

Ed swallowed tightly, still looking away. "I already told you that I won't help you with that," he muttered crossly. "It didn't help me, and it won't help you."

"You remembered something, though, didn't you?" Roy pressed urgently. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the older man lean forward, half reaching out to him, and Ed jerked backwards before he could even get close enough to touch him. "You must have. If you'd remembered nothing at all, it wouldn't be this big a deal. I understand if it didn't turn out very well for you, but... but, Fullmetal, we're out of options, at this point. Anything possible that I can remember before we get out of here..."

Ed stiffened again.

The memory of that rotting black corpse of a woman, that thing that smiled at him and called him sweetheart, rooted into him again, long, poisonous roots that made him feel sick, and he found himself inching back away from Roy, shivering and trying not to think about it.

"What- what does it even matter?" he stammered at last, desperately looking anywhere but at him. "When we get out of here we'll stop taking their drugs anyway! Just wait until then!"

"Fullmetal." Roy leaned forward again, this time undaunted when Ed couldn't help jerk away, two dark eyes piercing through him in a stare that unsettled him to his core. "When we get out of here, we can't afford to spend a few weeks lying low, lost, trying to figure things out. These people? They are going to be looking for us. We're going to need to be prepared to step out onto the street, start running, and not look back. And, well... you're ready to do that." He broke off for a moment, pale features clouding as his face fell. "I'm not."

Once again unable to help himself, Ed pushed himself upright to start pacing again, hopping along the wall just to turn his back and get away from those inescapable eyes. "What are you talking about, we're in the exact same-"

"You're looking for someone close to you named Al. That's great- I'm being sincere, Fullmetal; I'm genuinely happy for you. You know what you're looking for. And I'll help you look for Al as much as I can, but..." The colonel sighed unhappily again, distress radiating in every syllable. "But I don't know what I'm looking for. And I can't run with you until I know that."

Ed already found his mouth open to retort, anger and something close to alarm pounding in his heart. Roy, because he was a smug bastard, had a point- he hated to admit, but he did- but that couldn't matter. Ed had already promised to himself he wouldn't budge on this one. It wouldn't do any good, it wouldn't help him at all, it wouldn't make him feel any better, it would just screw him over, and Ed wasn't going to let that happen and be his fault. He wouldn't cave. He couldn't let himself...

"Fullemtal," Roy pushed quietly again- unyieldingly.

...and, what choice did he have?

Whether he liked it or not, Roy hadn't experienced what he had. All Roy knew was that this his last option left to try and remember something before they broke out of here.

And Ed knew that, if he was in Roy's shoes, he'd be doing exactly the same thing.

"You're such a jerk, you know," he muttered, glaring down at the floor. His skin crawled and his insides squirmed with trepidation, but he made himself turn his gaze back to where Roy was waiting silently for his answer. "You should trust me instead of screwing everything up for yourself."

"Well, you know me, evidently," Roy said, smirking. "If something's going to destroy me, I've got to find that out for myself- certainly can't be trusted to take the word of a shrimp like you, anyway."

"Shri- you- fuck you!" The anxious apprehension sizzled into flat out irritation as he whirled back around on him, shoving off the wall to head right for him. "I told you, quit calling me that! You're such a- you- bas-... Colonel Bastard!"

Roy laughed loudly, smirk broadening as he kicked up his feet again and radiated an air of smugness so thick it was a wonder he didn't suffocate on it. He continued to grin proudly while Ed seethed, about ready to knock that stupid look off his stupid face, when-...

Wait...

It hit Ed in the same moment that it hit Roy.

And it cued a satisfying, and complete, role reversal.

Ed turned more fully to face him, beaming in victory. "Well, would you look at that," he said, advancing.

"No," he groaned. "No." Roy buried his face in his hands, but even that couldn't hide the faint flush as Ed got closer, and it barely even muffled the second heavy groan. "I refuse. I won't accept this. No."

"Oh, but yes."

"No!" he insisted desperately again, voice almost cracking. "You do not get a name like Fullmetal while I-"

"You're bastard!"

"Noooo," Roy moaned into his hands, practically cowering in his seat. "That's... that's not it! It can't be-"

"You're bastard!" Ed crowed again, almost shaking with the triumph. Because that was it. That was the name they'd both been searching for. The same spark of familiarity they'd both heard at Fullmetal had just been triggered again- and this time, it was with Roy, and bastard.

Roy called him Fullmetal...

And Ed, apparently, had called him bastard.

It was just too good to be true.

After several long moments, R- the bastard gave a business-like sort of cough and lowered his hands, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. "Well," he announced huffily. "All this tells me, is that you are a rude, stubborn, offensive child, who refers to his elders using vulgarities and that you are lucky that I ever put up with you."

"Yeah, yeah," Ed told him, just unable to stop himself from grinning as he waved off the idiot's nonsensical words. "And all this tells me, is that I have always known the truth about you. Bastard."

He could practically see the raincloud over his head as the older man slumped even more, fingers digging into his hair and hands smushing his expression to all ruin. "There is no longer any part of me whatsoever that holds any fondness at all for you, Fullmetal," he grumbled sourly, with all the pride of a sulky teenager, and Ed simply smiled back.

Best. Day. Ever.

...Or, best day ever that he could remember, anyway, he corrected himself reluctantly.

Still smirking and victorious, but also almost euphoric in a way he couldn't really understand, Ed let the rest of his irritation from before be washed away in its entirety. He was Fullmetal- and somehow, inexplicably, Roy was his bastard. Regardless of what happened while they were here, they would get through this. They'd survive this hospital and fight their way back to the friends they must have been before, and no matter what happened today, tomorrow, and the day after that, they were going to find his Al and Roy's blue.

Nothing in this hospital was permanent.

Nothing here mattered.

Unable to help his grin, Ed turned around to carefully start making his way towards the door; it was late, and they only had a few minutes before the nurses came along to send them to their separate rooms. He'd prefer to be in his already, so they couldn't push him down into a wheelchair. Even as he stewed in his own misery, Roy held out an absentminded hand to help him, and Ed made sure to give his shoulder a whack once he'd steadied himself with it. "Until tomorrow, bastard," he laughed warmly, and limped on towards the door even over Roy's loudest groan yet.

Upon reaching the hallway, however, he paused.

"...Bastard?" he called again, fingers digging into the doorframe.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence. Roy's comically enraged, long-suffering look faded, a solemn light touching his eyes again, and Ed cleared his throat. "Tomorrow morning. ...Skip the red pill instead." He hesitated again, looking away from him. "That's what you're after."

He shifted for a moment longer, watching Roy to make sure he understood. The moment he saw the somber clarity start to darken his eyes, he turned away and left the room entirely, not wanting to stay for the thanks he knew he was about to get.

As per usual, around here, he wasn't looking forward to tomorrow.

Ed kept himself regressed back to be sedate and in control of himself after that, doing everything he could to keep the nurse who gave him his medication from realizing any little thing was off. He got through the night in the way that was becoming increasingly normal, around here; more nightmares, more jolting out of sleep gasping, more trying not to see the walls close in around him and forcing himself to not need to get out of bed and limp back down to Roy's room. He kept his mouth shut the next morning, too, sitting there silently quietly as the nurses gave him the usual morning spiel, and carefully suppressed his instinct to mouth off as they put him again into the wheelchair and started pushing him along towards their usual morning ritual of Justin's array. In some ways, he was actually grateful. It would take a little bit for the effects to kick in with Roy- if he was anything like him, anyway- and Ed was just too nervous and unhappy about what was going to happen to want to be sitting there and watch it go.

Besides, he reflected stubbornly, I've got my own plans to take care of.

The journey to the room where Justin and the array waited was short. He was used to it, now, knew it like the back of his own hand, and he knew when they'd turned down what was to be the last hallway. He systematically shut down his reaction, the nausea, the fear, and just shut his eyes and made himself sit there and be fine.

You've only gotta do this a few more times. You're almost done. As soon as the bastard's done his thing and he's ready, you'll break out together and you'll never have to do this again. Just hold on for a little longer. That's all you have to do.

You can do that much.

You HAVE to.

"Oh!" Susan suddenly exclaimed from behind him; the wheelchair ground to a quick halt and Ed barely stopped himself from jumping. "I forgot, I left some of the paperwork back at our desks- would you mind going on ahead, to explain things to the doctor? I'll go fetch it and bring Edward along in a moment."

He didn't let himself react to the words, not at all; didn't let himself freak out, didn't let himself get worried, didn't let himself care, even though a change in the routine promised nothing but something bad for him. He didn't look up from the floor at Ann's annoyed tsk behind his other shoulder. "Make sure you hurry," she said dispassionately, stepping around him to continue onwards on her own; Ed kept his eyes firmly down and didn't let himself care or be afraid.

He had to get through this now. Roy had probably already skipped the memory blockers by now. Roy was already screwed over right now, and all Ed could only help if he got through this to make it back there with him. Overreacting and fighting back now wouldn't accomplish that.

Especially if it... if it got him back in that room.

Ed clenched his jaw, glaring on downwards, and held himself perfectly still, refusing to allow himself to give in to the terror growing in his stomach.

No. He wouldn't do this. He could not do this.

Even when the door had swung shut behind Ann, leaving him alone with Susan- and... she didn't move?

For several seconds, nothing happened at all. He just sat there waiting, and she just stood there silently behind him, and everything remained still and quiet.

Then, rather than start pushing him back in the other direction, she moved around to crouch own in front of him and meet his eyes.

"Edward?" she asked him gently, holding his gaze no matter how badly he wanted to pull away. "These treatments, we've been giving you. I know they're a little unorthodox, and hard on you, but... but, we've been giving them to you for a long while now, and..." She hesitated, voice dropping a little lower to be a hushed murmur, almost as if she was worried someone in this otherwise deserted hallway might overhear. "And I wanted to know if you felt they were helping you."

Ed blinked.

She... wanted to know what?

He didn't quite gape at her, but something of his shock must've been evident on his face, because she went on when he just stared at her blankly, utterly lost and flummoxed. "It can take a while, but patients are supposed to start showing- and feeling- some improvement after a few weeks. If you're not, Edward, it's important that you tell me. We can change what we're doing to try and help you."

Ed stayed frozen in his wheelchair, not even allowing himself to pull away, not daring to any bit of the real reaction show on his face. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't dare risk it being a trap, because everything here was a trap, and what would happen if he said the truth now? The nurses, Justin- everything in this hospital was against them. It was that simple. He couldn't trust this nurse just because she was suddenly kneeling in front of him, speaking softly and honestly, like she cared about him- because it was all lies- she'd put him in that room! She'd put him in that jacket and left him there! She was one of the ones who'd- he couldn't trust her! She was a liar, and was trying to hurt him and Roy, and, and-

And this was the very first time anybody working in this hellhole had looked at him like that, and asked him something that honestly sounded as if it was trying to help him.

Ed hesitated a moment longer, breath caught in his throat.

"No," he said flatly, looking her dead on at last. "We're not feeling any better at all."

Really, at this point?

He had nothing left to lose.

Susan's eyes widened, gaze still locked with his, and she abruptly paled. Her expression remained curiously unreadable, whatever her motivation was to ask him that and whatever she was thinking now hidden away from him- but it was clear that answer hadn't been the one she was hoping for.

But, more than that, she was actually listening to him.

She stayed quiet for several moments, just staring at them, then cleared her throat and turned her gaze sharply away, face falling. "...Thank you for telling me," she rushed to mutter, drawing away from him in a sudden hurry to get back behind the wheelchair and push him along. It was faster than before and she didn't say a single word to him, but it was plainly obvious she was unhappy, and for one the first times, Ed found himself stricken into silence too.

What was going on?

"I'm sorry for the delay, Doctor," Susan rushed to say again the moment they were in the room, the array and the rocks already waiting. "It won't happen again."

Ed, in the usual A-level acting this place required, carefully examined the doctor's expression for every minute detail and tell while pretending to be so out of it he didn't even recognize him. Justin wasn't looking at Susan in any suspicious way, like this had all been a trick to get him to talk and now he was gauging what had happened... no, not at all. As far as Ed could tell, he was completely deluded and didn't have the slightest idea he'd been deceived, and either Justin was acting just as much as he was- or the doctor really didn't know what his subordinate had done. He hadn't ordered it at all.

Which meant... what?

After several moments, Ed just shook his head at himself and forced himself to continue with his act again, lowering his eyes to the floor as he prepared to go through with the forced transmutation again. It didn't matter what it meant, because he wasn't sicking around to find out. He and Roy were breaking out of here- tonight, if at all possible. If Susan was actually trying to help them now, as unlikely as it was- too little, too late, in his damn opinion. If she'd wanted to help him, she wouldn't have left him in that fucking straitjacket in the first place.

It wasn't something for him to even waste the time to think about. He and Roy were headed out of here- nothing else mattered at all.

"Yeah," he muttered blearily to whatever the doctor had last said, by this point a true pro at tuning his ass out. He couldn't afford to screw things up or waste time on this now. His one and only priority had to be getting back to Roy- letting himself be thrown by this weirdness was just asking to mess this up. "Yeah. Sure."

He put his hand against the circle, pressed down hard, and focused.

It only took him a moment, this time, to get the reaction going. He kept his eyes fixed off away from the circle, not wanting to watch as the pebbles transformed into gold, not wanting to have to endure the wave of poisonous guilt this time as he did something he knew he wasn't meant to do.

This is the second rule...

Never break the second rule...

With his gaze glued back on the floor, and still shivering in the warm aftermath, Ed was only tangentially aware of the nurses approaching him from behind again, and he just barely managed to stop the flinch when he was lifted back into the wheelchair again. He closed his eyes and just breathed deeply, listening to the squeak of the wheels and the rhythmic footsteps behind him and fighting to keep calm.

He was tired. Justin kept increasing the size of the transmutations he had to do every time, testing the limits of how far he could go- at first it had been barely noticeable, but it was getting to the point that Ed felt it every time. His hand was trembling, and for just a few moments he was actually grateful for the wheelchair, because he probably wouldn't have been able to stand without it.

It was getting worse. Everything they were forcing him to do was getting worse.

Ed just left his eyes closed as he was moved along, listening with a growing sense of apprehension as he got closer and closer back to Roy. He was equal parts exhausted and nervous and it was just easiest to check out and not be there for a little while- but he could make this trek in his sleep and he knew the moment they'd made it back to the ward, and before he could stop himself he was already opening his eyes and preparing himself to jump after Roy.

Then, of course, everything went to hell.

Roy was there, all right. Just standing there blankly in the middle of the room, hands loose and limp at his side, and looking at him.

Or, perhaps more accurately, not looking at him- gazing in what might've been constituted to be his direction, sure, but there was absolutely no part of him that looked like he was aware. Not anymore.

His eyes were completely, horrifyingly blank.

Roy was standing dazedly in the center of the room, staring off in their direction with wide eyes and a stricken face and nothing in him that was present. He looked straight over Ed's head and right past the nurses, gaze so terrifyingly focused he found himself turning around to make sure, heart pounding- but he'd already known there was nothing there.

Roy was standing there, focused on nothing...

Like he's seeing things.

Ed gulped.

He was barely aware of the nurses quietly conversing behind him, whatever Roy was doing so strange it was probably concerning even for a psych patient. Fooling the nurses wasn't important right now, figuring out what was wrong with Roy was.

This wasn't right. Yeah, Ed had known things would be messed up, but this? He hadn't been prepared for this.

The day Ed had skipped the medication himself, he'd spent the entirety half conscious and totally out of it, lying in bed but shaking so hard he'd nearly rocked out of it. He'd seen... things. Things that had bordered on reality so close it tortured him, things that couldn't be real- but things that he knew once had been. Blood everywhere, the smell of it, the sound of it spilling from a wound. That horrible corpse of a woman asking him why over and over again, a single word escalating into a screaming chorus that he couldn't ever answer to just because he couldn't remember, he'd done something wrong and he wanted more than anything to apologize but he just didn't know what he'd done. People he was certain he knew materializing to scream at him, that suit of armor, the blonde girl, a huge dog, all blaming him for things he couldn't remember- he'd never felt so guilty in his life and all he'd wanted was to say sorry but they wouldn't listen to him and he could do nothing but lie there and beg for mercy from ghosts that did not even exist.

But he'd known that. He'd known none of it had been real, and that was how he'd gotten through it. He'd known it was all from the drugs, or lack thereof, and even as he'd watched a bloodied housewife shout that he'd broken her trust or a small child with her dog beg him to save her or that rotting corpse fall apart before his eyes, he'd known they weren't real. He'd gotten through it, because they didn't exist, and he'd never believed they did.

But sitting here now and looking up at Roy...

It was clear that Roy did.

"...Bastard?" Ed ventured weakly, staring up at the older man, who kept on staring straight past him with the most horrified expression on his face, stricken and torn and overwrought and just nothing like the Roy he knew. "H-hey, uh, bastard?" Unsure of what to do, he waved a hand a little, hoping to get Roy to look at him but to no avail. "You okay...?"

Roy didn't respond to the words in any way, but when Ed actually reached out to touch his clenched hand, he got a blink. A single wide-eyed blink, the stricken horror in his dark eyes transforming into something else, something more alive, but if he'd been hoping for sane he was utterly let down. Roy jerked, wild eyes yanked from the wall to meet his at last, gasping and trembling, mumbling incoherently in a senseless stream under his breath, then-

"I can't do it," he whispered, voice wavering and stricken. "I can't... I'm supposed to kill them... my orders- no..."

"...Bastard?" Ed asked again, heart pounding so hard he could barely breathe.

Roy blinked again, focusing-not-focusing on him for one second more. Slowly, jerkily, dark eyes flitted to stare at the pair of startled nurses behind him.

And then, he lost it.

He was at war.

He had his orders, he had his targets, and by god he was scared but ready to pull that trigger, and he was at war.

He couldn't find his commander, though.

He couldn't find his commander, he couldn't find the enemy, he couldn't find his gun, and he was so scared all he could do was run but there was nowhere to run to. Nowhere was safe any longer and he was trapped here without the freedom to run or the strength to fight-

Hughes?

Hawkeye?

"Hughes, Hawkeye, w-where-..."

Where are you...?

Who are you?

It was hot, everywhere. He could feel the heat pressing in around him, so oppressive and suffocating it scalded his skin when he moved, burned the inside of his lungs when he breathed. Hard, scorching sand shifted underneath his feet, which he knew was a lie- the floor was cold and white, just smooth tiles, that was all, but he felt the sand and he cowered against the hot blast of wind and he hid from the fire he knew was coming but he just couldn't see. It was dangerous, here, he couldn't remember why but knew it wasn't safe-

If he could just find the person he had to protect- there was someone here, he had to keep them safe, that was all he had anymore and he knew it with every fiber of his being, there was... was someone... who? There was someone here- he had to keep them safe-

I can smell the fire, oh, god-

"Bastard?"

Bastard... bastard.

Bastard. That was who...

He blinked. The fires cleared, and he stared harder, eyes watering in the smoke to- to-

There was a child in front of him.

A child that he knew... was that who it was? Was that who he was supposed to protect? It had to be- the child was looking up at him, his eyes big and scared, waiting for him- that was who it was, wasn't it? That was who he had to protect. That child-

You have your orders, Major Mustang. Kill them.

No... no, he couldn't...

Kill them all.

No... Roy shook his head, stumbling backwards on shaking feet. No, no. Kill the child? No, he couldn't- wouldn't do it. That wasn't his orders, he could never be ordered to kill a child, he was meant to help people, not hurt them like this, not-

Kill them, Major Mustang! KILL THEM!

He gasped violently again, reeling backwards on shaking feet. No, no, no-

There, there, behind the kid, right there- they were the ones forcing his hand. They were ones making him do this, they wanted to hurt him and hurt the child and watch the world burn- he had to stop them- oh, god, they were looking at him, they were coming-

"NO!" he screamed, throwing the child behind him without a second thought. The child. The one that called him bastard- "NO! No, NO!" He threw himself forwards at that, desperately writhing and punching, because he knew. It was their fault, it had to be! They were the ones ordering this- and he wouldn't do it. He refused. He wouldn't let this happen! He- he was supposed to protect people, his job was to protect that child that had called him bastard, this was all he had anymore and he wasn't going to stop until they were gone.

They fought back at him, hard, but he was stronger than them. He shoved them back and when one came at him again, he swung his fist so hard his shoulder ached and his knuckles cracked, and he'd never felt anything more satisfying in his life than when it collided with their face and sent his superior to the floor. "STOP IT!" he screamed again, or maybe he didn't; maybe it was all in his head as he forced them back away over and over again, throwing his arms out to stop them from ever getting behind him.

Kill them, Major Mustang.

You've already killed kids before, haven't you? You've killed them for us before; what's one more?

What's one more, Major Mustang?

The sands underneath his feet became scorching again, half of him flinching at the burning but the other half stymied and lost at the cold tiles and the fact that he knew there wasn't any sand anywhere at all in the room. And suddenly it wasn't just the sand; suddenly the hot wind was back in his face, and he was surrounded in every direction, soldiers and the enemy behind him- and that child- why couldn't he remember his name?!

He could see all the blood...

The blood that- that was his fault...

Suddenly there were others, there was more people on him, soldiers or the enemy- he didn't know; his arms were grabbed, a punch caught mid-air and then pinioned to his side, trapping his every attempt to fight back. They were saying something, shouting at him, but he couldn't hear them over the screaming in his head- oh, god, it was all in his head...

He gasped out, straining, fighting back; he just wanted to get out of here. Nothing else; he just didn't want to be here any more but he knew he hated it, and he just wanted to go home but he couldn't remember that was- he couldn't stand it here- let me go! LET ME GO! NOW!

He could see all the blood, all the children he'd killed- no, no, no- see it on-

Fullmetal's face.

"FULLMETAL!" he screamed desperately, but his arms were held back from reaching out and when he tried to lunge for him he was just yanked back in the other direction. "Fullmetal, Full- Full-"

His knees started to give out on him, his vision spiraled into black-

And all he could see was blood that he'd drawn, splattered all over Ed's stunned, terrified face.