Chizi: Thank you for returning!
Zilo: Yes! Such a great response!
Chizi: You nice people deserve a reward! Here's Chapter Two!

2: The Lost Days

Winry Rockbell made sure that it was clear before stepping off into the station. It was slightly crowded, and people ran to greet family members and friends. People were laughing and talking, their lives just fine. None of them were worrying about the safety of a childhood friend.

From what Alphonse had told her, Edward had now been missing for a month. She scanned the station until the familiar suit of armor jumped out at her. "Alphonse!" she called, waving her arm as she made her way to him.

Alphonse turned just as she reached him. "Winry, hi," he said.

His sad voice made Winry want to cry, but she bravely put up a smile for him. "How are you doing?" she asked.

"All right, I guess," Alphonse replied.

Winry put a hand on his arm, even though she knew he couldn't feel it. He seemed to appreciate the gesture. "Have there been any leads?" she asked.

"Not for a while. I think they're starting to believe he's dead, already." There was a tremor in Al's voice as he said it.

"No way!" Winry said fiercely. "We both know that Edward is stronger than that. He's alive, Al, and there's no doubt in my mind about that."

Alphonse nodded. "You're right," he said. "I just can't help but wonder where he's been all this time, if he's all right, if there's any way he can contact us."

One month earlier...

Edward groaned lightly as he slowly returned to consciousness. His head felt like someone had used it for batting practice, and a point on his neck stung. He was lying on something cold and hard, and there was a strange pressure on his left wrist and hand. What happened...? He struggled to make his foggy brain focus. Where had he been before he fell asleep?

It came back in bits and pieces, but he slowly remembered. I was in the library, studying...that girl came in with coffee...the coffee was drugged...the girl was Envy...and...Envy! Edward sat up quickly and opened his eyes. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he shook his head to clear it. He blinked a couple of times, and his vision cleared. What he saw made him want to close his eyes again.

He was in a small room, whose floor, walls, and ceiling were made entirely of solid steel, with only a hanging lightbulb to light it. His red coat had been removed, and his wrists were in a wooden shackle. A second block of wood encased his hands, completely immobilizing and rendering them useless. A steel shackle was wrapped around his right upper arm, and it was connected by heavy chain links to its base on the wall.

But all of this wasn't the worst part. Written in jagged letters of black ink all over the walls and floor were some of the worst sentences Edward had ever laid eyes on, all about people he knew. Some of the better ones read such things as Roy Mustang is using me and Riza Hawkeye thinks I'm annoying and irresponsible. Edward scanned the sentences, wanting to tear his eyes away but, in a strange, horrible fascination, unable to. Who the hell wrote these awful things? he thought. Then a particular sentence caught his eye.

Al hates me for what I did to him.

Edward forced himself to shut his eyes. What was this? Who wrote it? And what was the point? All of it was untrue. But it was still unsettling, and he needed to get out of here. He held his restraints up in front of his face and opened his eyes, making sure he focused only on the restraints and not the numerous slurs written on the wall.

The fact that both his hands were encased in a block of wood meant his captors had taken all precautions against him using alchemy to get away. Even if he was somehow able to engrave a circle somewhere, he wouldn't be able to activate it. Plus his brain was still a little foggy, so he wasn't up to one hundred percent of his thinking ability. He experimentally pulled on the chain holding his steel shackle to the wall. There was a good length of it, but not enough to reach the door across from him, the only exit to the room.

But there's got to be some way out, Edward thought, letting his hands settle on the ground. I just have to find it.

A movement caught Edward's eye, and he looked up to see the door soundlessly opening. He tensed as it swung inwards, revealing solid darkness. A figure stepped in from the darkness into the dimness of the steel room, and Edward glared as he stood up to face his kidnapper.

"Up already, Full Metal Pipsqueak?" Envy taunted.

"You bastard!" Edward yelled, anger building up in him. "Why did you bring me here? Answer me!!"

"Oh, quit being so dramatic," Envy said, stepping far enough into the room to swing the door shut behind him. He looked around. "I see you've decorated the place. What a sentiment."

Edward snorted. "You trying to tell me I wrote all this crap? Don't make me laugh."

"Well, it wasn't me. I'm tall enough to reach the ceiling if I did it," Envy said. He saw Edward's enraged face and grinned evilly. "Don't believe me? Fine. I didn't come to convince you."

"Then what did you come for?" Edward demanded.

There was a dangerous glint in Envy's eye. "To teach you some respect, of course."

"What? To you?" Edward said derisively. He didn't get another word out, however, for Envy swiftly moved across the room. In one move, Envy had crossed the room and used a roundhouse kick on the side of Edward's head, knocking him on his side. Edward hit hard, causing his head to ring.

"Now that's not very nice," Envy said. "I don't think I liked your tone."

"So sue me," Edward spat.

Envy kicked him so hard in the stomach he went flying, jerked to a stop only by the chain of his metal shackle. He landed on the floor in a heap and instinctively curled inward, protecting his stomach from another blow. He had just managed to wrap an arm around his stomach when Envy grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him into the air, feet swinging freely.

"Now, how about an apology," Envy said.

"Not on your life," Edward ground out.

With no further ado, Envy swung around and slammed Edward into the wall. Edward felt his head crack against the steel, sending his vision into darkness for a moment. When he had regained his sight, he found himself being thrown in the other direction. Again, the chain jerked him to a stop, throwing him harshly to the ground.

Edward didn't move for a moment, stunned. His head and stomach were screaming with pain, and the rest of him wasn't doing so well either. He heard Envy's footsteps coming towards him and wildly tried to come up with a plan. But his brain wasn't working right, yet again. Envy grabbed the front of his shirt again and hoisted him into the air. Edward remained there for a fraction of a second before he was slammed into the wall again, all the air being forced from his lungs. His head complained strongly, and he felt a crawling darkness at the edges of his subconscious.

"Now, do I hear an 'I'm sorry'?" Envy said in a mock kind voice, hooking a hand behind an ear as if he couldn't hear.

Edward wanted to spit in his face, but what was left of his rational mind told him he needed to survive this encounter if he would get a chance to escape. He took a breath, or tried to, his lungs shuddering with the effort. "I'm...sorry..." he managed to wheeze through gritted teeth.

"What? You forgot my name, pipsqueak?" Envy said.

Damn him. Edward gasped in another breath. His chest hurt badly, among other things. "I'm...sorry...Envy..." he said.

"You're forgiven." Envy let go, and Edward fell heavily to the ground. "I'll leave you to admire your writing skills." Before Edward could collect himself, Envy was gone, and the door slammed shut behind him.

That...bastard... Edward realized his thoughts were slowing down. His entire body felt like one dull ache, sharpening painfully in areas like his head and stomach. He could feel some liquid running slowly through his hair and realized it must be blood. He tried to move his hand to wipe it away, but he forgot about the wooden shackles, and they were weighing down his hands with a ridiculous strength.

Got to...stay conscious... He fought off the rising urge to take another nap and attempted to sit up. His body seemed to have decided to mutiny again, for he did little more than squirm in one spot, making his stomach hurt more.

Unwillingly, his eyes again started to traverse the horrible words on the walls, reading them and taking them in. He couldn't believe Envy was trying to say that he had written these things! What would be the point? And wouldn't he remember? But as he looked at them, it was a little unnerving how well Envy--or whoever wrote it all down--had copied his handwriting style. It certainly looked like he had written it, and if he weren't one hundred percent certain he hadn't...

Well, he would almost believe he had.

The door opened again in its silent way, and Edward tensed, thinking it was Envy coming to beat him up again. But it was someone different, though her presence was just as unwelcome. Especially when he caught sight of the syringe in her hand.

"Hello, Edward," Lust said.

"Whatever...the hell...that is...you aren't sticking...it in...me," Edward managed to say, glaring at her.

Lust wasn't even smiling in her usual smug way. The expressionless look was almost worse. "You don't have much choice in the matter," she said, approaching.

Edward tried to scoot back, but he was still in so much pain that he didn't get far. Lust knelt down beside him. "Don't make this more difficult than it has to be," she said.

"Like you care," he spat.

"You're right; I don't," Lust said. "But I'm sure you care. You can either sit still, and the contents in this syringe will knock you out, or you can struggle, I might miss the exact spot, and you'll spend the next three days in burning, agonizing pain," she informed him.

"What...only three days?" Edward replied, surprised at himself for making a joke at such a time.

Lust looked two seconds away from rolling her eyes. "Don't be a hero, Full Metal," she said, reverting back to the usual way she addressed him. She grabbed his braid and pulled on it, yanking Edward's head back and exposing his neck. Before he could work up the strength to resist, she had inserted the needle into his neck and pumped him full of whatever the syringe contained. Finished, she let go of his hair and stood.

"What did you...do?" Edward demanded. But his question was answered when he felt a familiar blurriness taking over his subconscious.

"If you can't tell, I need to give you more," Lust said, her voice starting to sound as though he were hearing her through water. His eyelids, suddenly heavy, drooped closed. The last thing he heard was Lust's voice saying, "Now be a good boy and go to sleep."

He couldn't do otherwise if he wanted to.

Outside...

Envy was waiting the second Lust stepped out of Edward's prison and closed the door behind herself. "You give him our present?" he asked, relish ringing in his voice.

Lust held up the empty syringe as a reply. "Excellent," Envy said. "We'll begin the reprogramming tomorrow."

"Envy, this seems like a lot of trouble to go to just for your sick pleasure," Lust stated, crossing her arms. "We could dispose of those military officers ourselves."

Envy spread his hands and shrugged, smirking. "So we could," he agreed, "but this way, we tear them up on the inside as well. Not to mention I am intensely looking forward to driving the Full Metal Midget insane."

"When do we make contact?" Lust asked.

Envy held up two fingers. "Two weeks," he said. "Give them time to start thinking he's dead."

Day Two

Envy peered through the tiny window of the solid steel door from time to time, checking on their captive. He was still unmoving. "The brat's still out, huh?" he said, more to himself than to his two associates.

"He probably will be for quite some time to come," Lust commented. She was sitting in a chair, arms crossed, one leg over the other. Gluttony sat on the floor next to her, looking perfectly stupid, a huge finger in his mouth. He was hungry, and he couldn't understand why they wouldn't let him eat Edward.

Envy snorted, and then movement caught his eye. "Oh, there he goes. Finally." He gave Lust and Gluttony an evil smile as he opened the door and stepped in. "Be right back."

He closed the door behind himself, taking a look around. The writings on the wall were his own personal touch, something for the pipsqueak to look at in his less lucid moments and wonder about. His stroke of genius caused him to write them all in a nearly perfect replica of Edward's handwriting, put them down where Edward could reach them, and use things like "I," "my," and "me" instead of "you." If he could time it right, using his words and the drugs they were going to inject him with every day, he'd convince the sorry excuse for a human that he had written all those things.

Envy moved to where Edward lay in a heap near the wall, satisfactorily noting the bloodstains on the wall from their previous encounter. Blood loss weakened and disoriented humans; this was all working out. Envy crouched down next to Edward as he stirred, obviously in pain. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, and Envy rested his arms on his legs, waiting.

Slowly, Edward's golden eyes cracked open, looking bleary. Envy, both tired of and pleased with his lethargic actions, reached out and shook his shoulder, not bothering to be gentle. "Wakey, wakey, pipsqueak," he said in a singsong voice. "Time to talk."

"Go away," Edward mumbled, not seeing him through open eyes. Envy was absolutely delighted. The brat's brain wasn't functioning at a good level. Perfect.

"It's time to talk about those things you wrote on the wall," Envy said.

Edward's eyes shifted slowly, the only movement besides signs of his breathing. "Didn't...write..." he mumbled in a sleepy way.

"Oh, yes you did," Envy said, "didn't you?"

Edward very slightly shook his head, and then winced at moving it. "No..."

"Yep," Envy said. "You did. You wrote all those nasty things about your brother and friends, didn't you?"

This time, Edward didn't respond verbally but shook his head, tired. Envy felt a satisfied grin spreading across his face. He patted Edward on the back, pretending to care. "Edward, you wrote those things, and you know it. Tell me you wrote them."

Edward didn't respond.

Envy resisted the urge to kick a response from Edward. He had to resist for the moment; the reward would definitely be worth it. For now, repetition was the key. He leaned over Edward, checking the injury on the back of his head. It had closed temporarily with clotted blood; more blood matted the back of Edward's head. Smirking, Envy morphed his right hand into a blade, then reached over and split the wound back open. Edward flinched, but Envy ignored it; he wanted the latter as disoriented as possible. He watched with satisfaction as blood began to ooze back out of the wound.

"So," Envy said, settling back on his haunches, "let's talk about those things you wrote again."

Lust looked up when the door opened five hours later. Envy walked out, a satisfied smirk on his face. He closed the door behind him. "You ready?" he asked her.

Lust stood up, holding the syringe in her hand. She moved past him and into the room. Edward was lying where she had seen him last. His eyes were open but unfocused, and he seemed to be having a hard time breathing right. Lust knelt next to him and pushed his head to the side, exposing his neck, and he didn't resist or snap at her or anything. She deftly inserted the needle into the side of his neck and pushed the narcotics into his system. He didn't even react.

I should be just as happy as Envy...this will bring our plans to fruition, not to mention move an obstacle out of the way...but I'm not. I just don't understand. Lust stood and left quickly, not wanting to be in the same room with Edward any longer.
Day Seven

Over the next few days, the repetition continued. Envy would visit Edward and tell him over and over that he had written those words on the wall, and that he really felt that way. If Edward was ever strong enough to fire off a retort, Envy would beat him up. Then, Lust would come in after Envy left and administer more drugs.

The torturous tradition didn't fail to take its toll on the young alchemist. He was given just enough food and water to survive, and was forced to look at those words whenever he was conscious. He found it harder and harder to ignore them, and doubts started to plague his mind about their author by day four.

Day seven marked a turning point. It was incredibly unfortunate for Edward, but exactly the break Envy had anticipated. He entered the room again just before Edward stirred awake. More bloodstains were on the wall from previous meetings, and Edward now had a bad gash on his leg that refused to close.

"Up and at 'em, pipsqueak," Envy said, crouching by Edward in his usual position. Edward reacted more slowly than usual, and his eyes were clouded over. "Time to talk about the stuff you wrote on the wall again. You wrote it all, didn't you?"

Edward's face looked distressed through the mixture of pain and exhaustion. He took a deep, shuddering breath. "...Me?" he whispered.

Envy's face split into a grin. Finally! "Yes, you, pipsqueak. You wrote this, didn't you?"

"I...did...?" Edward said.

"Yes you did," Envy replied. "Say it. You wrote this."

"...I wrote...this."

"Say it again."

"...I...I wrote it."

"Once more."

"I...wrote it."

"Very good," Envy said, pleased. "Remember all the things you wrote? About how your brother hates you, Mr. Flame Man's using you, everyone's tired of your grumpy attitude, all that good stuff?"

"No..." Edward responded, sounding as if he were drifting off.

Envy reached down. "Hey. Wake up." He roughly shook Edward's shoulder, and Edward winced. Envy remembered that that was where he had delivered a particularly nasty hit a day ago. "Don't conk out yet, Shorty. We need to talk about these things some more. Do you know why you wrote them? Huh?"

Edward slowly shook his head.

"You wrote them because you knew you might forget how you felt, and you didn't want that. You wanted to remember how you hated them for the way they treated you."

"No...I don't..."

"Yes you do," Envy insisted sharply. "You hate them. You loathe them. They treat you unfairly because of their own stupid opinions, and you suffered for it. Do you know that the military you serve knows where you are, and they haven't come to get you?"

Edward tensed at this, and he seemed to force himself to focus on Envy's face. "Why not?" he demanded, his voice sounding clearer.

Envy leaned in closer, relishing this little exercise. "Roy Mustang himself said that it was your fault you got into this mess, that he thought you were too reckless, and you need to learn a hard lesson about being careful."

"That's not true," Edward insisted.

Envy smacked the back of Edward's head, aiming for the sore spot. Edward cried out and hunched his shoulders. "Stop lying to yourself," Envy said. "You know it's true, that's why you wrote that!"

He pointed at one of the sentences, and Edward's pain-filled eyes followed the finger. Roy Mustang cares about nothing but what I can do for him greeted his eyes. Edward's jaw clenched, and he let his face rest on the floor, eyes fixed on Envy's toes. "It's not true," he repeated weakly.

"Yes it is."

"No."

"Yes it is."

Edward didn't reply. Envy shifted his eyes to another one of the sentences and smiled evilly. "Now, let's talk about Alphonse Elric."

Day Thirteen

They hate me...they hate me...they hate me...

These thoughts were what Edward woke up with. He felt so sluggish, and there were so many points on his neck that hurt. He hadn't received a beating in a while, mostly because he had learned to comply with what Envy was saying in order to avoid one. But actually saying those things himself, over and over like Envy demanded, had made them work their way into his nearly defenseless mind and make a home for themselves.

"Rise and shine, Short Stuff," he heard Envy saying. He felt like crying, but he pushed the thoughts away and managed to open his eyes.

"Envy...why?" he found himself asking.

Envy tilted his head slightly. "Why what?"

"Why...do they hate me? I'm not so bad...am I?"

"I guess," Envy replied, "but does it seem like they care? They look for excuses to dislike you, pipsqueak; haven't you remembered that by now?"

But why? What have I done to them? How are my offenses so...terrible?

"I hate them," Edward whispered. "They have no right...to hate me."

"That's the spirit," Envy said. "See? You're starting to remember."

He had said it because he knew Envy would be pleased. Making sure Envy was pleased ensured that he wasn't mercilessly kicked around again. Now that his body had time to heal, he could feel minimal strength returning. Maybe he could get enough strength to sit up again.

"Now, tell me again," Envy was saying. "You hate them?"

"Yes."

"Say you hate them."

"I hate them."

"Say it again."

"I hate them."

"Keep going."

"I hate them. I hate them. I hate them." Edward's mental voice started to say it along with him, and the repetition drummed into his weakened mind.

Envy tilted his head from right to left in tandem with Edward's voice, as if listening to the rhythm of a song he liked. He frowned when Edward stopped, tired. "What, you don't hate them anymore?" he demanded, sounding angry.

No! Don't hit me! I have to heal! "Yes I do," Edward forced himself to say, though his throat was now quite sore.

"Then say so," Envy told him.

"I-I hate them." Edward's voice cracked, but he managed to say it five more times. Envy held up a hand, and Edward stopped, relieved for the rest. "See? You can't even talk. And that's their fault too. If they cared, you wouldn't be in this mess."

That Edward wholeheartedly believed.

Day 21

"Eeeed-waaard," a singsong voice said.

Edward didn't open his eyes. He wanted to sleep. His body was slowly getting stronger.

"Get up," the voice snapped. Edward realized it was Envy, and if he didn't rise, he'd get hurt. He struggled to push himself up. His muscles, having gotten used to lying in the same place for so long, were stiff and complained strongly. But he managed to push himself into a sitting position, his back against the wall. He opened his eyes and saw Envy, Lust, and Gluttony standing over him in a semicircle. Envy had his arms crossed, and a smirk on his face.

"We've got a deal for you, pipsqueak," Envy said.

Edward struggled to make his mind clear enough for making deals. His neck was a mass of stinging points, and so was his flesh arm. His injuries were still in the healing process, but they didn't hurt as much. It took him a few moments to realize that someone had bandaged him up and unbraided his hair while he slept. It felt damp. Had his hair been washed?

"We don't think you've been given a fair shake," Envy said. "We'd like to help you get revenge."

From a tiny corner of his mind, the word sparked something he had been thinking about the past few days he'd been lucid enough to think. Revenge. He knew what Envy spoke of without even having to ask: Mustang, Alphonse, Hawkeye, and all the others. Their unfair treatment of him. Their scorn, their derision, their hatred. Well, he hated them back.

And he wanted to do something about it.

"You'll let me go?" he asked, his voice raspy.

Envy nodded. "We'll help you take revenge in any way you wish," Lust added. "And in return, you'll help us retrieve something from your Headquarters."

A deal. Edward glanced from one to the other. "I want them to suffer for what they did to me," he said.

"And we want our item," Envy said. He leaned forward from the waist. "So, pipsqueak, do we have a deal?"

Edward looked down at his wooden bindings, then back up at Envy. "Take these off and we have a deal," he rasped.

Envy grinned disturbingly. "Excellent."

Chizi: Evil Edward! (bumbumbum)
Zilo: Disturbingly grinning Envy! (bumbumbum)
Shi: (points at Zilo and Chizi) Psychotic authoresses! (bumbumbum)
Zilo: Oh, ha, haa.
Chizi: Come back next time!
Zilo: Or else! (bumbumbum)