Bereavement-
"Come on, we really should clean off your hand." Roy dragged the unwilling Edward behind him into his small bathroom, forcing the boy to sit on the counter. He grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and some gauze. From the looks of the blood crusted appendage, Roy mused that Ed had to have done something quite savage to it.
He dabbed some liquid on, pressed it lightly to the scrapes and tried to block out the painful hissing that resulted.
"You sure did a number on yourself." Roy commented idly. "What were you trying to accomplish?"
Edward averted his gaze from Mustang and onto his wrist. Shuddering slightly he scoffed, "I was trying to get out of the handcuff that asshole put me in."
A flash of disbelief crossed Roy's eyes, but he refused to acknowledge it. "I'm not surprised…"
Ed bit back a cry when Mustang's fingertips crossed into a particularly tender area. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? If you were trapped in there, you'd try to get out too. And how else was I supposed to get out with no keys?"
"Calm down, Ed. I only meant that I'm not surprised this happened. I've never even heard of anyone getting out of the cuffs they use. You'll have to show me how you did." Roy smirked.
He beamed at the praise. "Nope, now that I've finally gained some ground on you, what makes you think I would give it up?"
Edward did remember that is was not he who escaped from the metal prison. Yet, he decided that Mustang didn't need to know that. He would not be informed of how Ed had given control over to a lunatic portion of his mind.
"Fair enough."
As he reached over for the bandages, Roy thought he felt something odd about Ed's wrist. It was like the skin was raised a fraction higher in some places. Was he imagining it?
He ran his thumb over it and pressed a little harder. They were still there.
"Edward…" Roy gently called his name, causing the blonde to turn to him. When Ed saw how his hand was being held, and the emotion shining in those dark eyes he tried to lurch himself away.
Roy held it more tightly. "Ed…"
"Fuck off," he whispered vehemently. "Just- Just get away from me."
Mustang shook his head, "Tell me why, why would you do this?"
"I… I-"
Roy never would have thought that Edward, his Ed could have done something like this to himself. The sight of light scars trailing up his arm in crisscrossing thin lines pained him. Had it really become so bad that a teenager had to resort to this?
"I had to do something. I mean, I couldn't tell Al, and you weren't around anymore, so I just-" A sob escaped him as his trembling fingers grasped the arm attached to his. "What was I supposed to do?"
"Nothing, Ed." Roy continued with wrapping the bandage. He understood now, he should not have let Edward go. He should have pursued the teen instead of thinking that Ed would come back to him. It was his fault. His fault that self mutilation marks were on the pale right arm. Without his gloves on, they were easy to see, as plain as day.
He glanced over and noticed cloth already tightly bound around the left arm.
"Please tell me you aren't still doing this, Ed." Please tell me that my being here is helping you.
Edward removed his treated hand to touch the other. "Only when I get too much stress," Smiling he continued, "That seems to be happening often now."
Mustang made a move to look for himself what kind of damage was done there, but Ed stopped him.
"Not now. I think we've got enough problems without it."
Rot stood up and stretched his back, helping the blonde off the counter as well. He pulled Ed closer to him, burying his nose in the silky hair. "Does it help when I'm here?" He asked softly.
Edward nodded shakily.
"Then I won't let you leave again."
Roy stood, mouth open in a mute shock as he tried to compose some of this thoughts.
"Are you serious?"
Brushing back his brother's bangs, Ed was careful to keep from waking the sleeping Alphonse up. "No, I've been lying to you this whole time," He sarcastically commented.
That could not be right.
Roy shifted and went from leaning against his living room wall to pacing irritably around the coffee table. Haruko hiring Ed to do him in? It was not a secret that the Captain was not on friendly terms since Mustang had joined there. But for the man to want him dead seemed a little too extreme.
Suddenly a random thought entered his head. One that was so strange that Roy wondered how he had not noticed it before.
"Why you?"
Edward stilled when Al turned over in his lap and faced his stomach.
"I mean, why hire you specifically?"
As per usual, anger was the first thought to surface in the smaller man's mind. "What, why wouldn't he hire me? I'm perfectly capable of taking you down!"
Mustang merely smirked at him.
Right, Ed could kill him. And that was why they were both here, he very much alive, having a conversation over his death. He sighed; Edward really did need to learn to control his temper.
"Think about it Ed. Haruko knew about our history together. It wasn't like we tried to hide it. Why would he pick you over all the other hit men out there?"
"Well…" He paused. "I don't know."
"Exactly. He had to have had some specific reason for picking you out of a hand full of people. And I don't think it was because of your skill."
Edward stared at him with wide eyes, "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying it makes no sense. Haruko hires you to kill me, in which you don't do, and then he charges you for it and tries to imprison you. Without even gaining any real proof to my death. It's almost as if he knew you wouldn't go through with it."
A tense silence filled the room at Roy's hypothesis and Ed felt his chest tighten. Why would Haruko have wanted him in jail? "I never did anything to that bastard, what does he have against me?"
Roy sighed heavily, "I'm not sure, Ed. But I think whatever we've stumbled onto is something very big. We need to watch our backs. There's no telling who could be next."
Maes Hughes sucked in a large breath of air as a flashlight shone into the room he had just snuck into. He remained pressed against the shelf and was praying that the security guard would not see him.
The beam turned away, moving onto the next office.
Groaning at his idiotic plan Hughes kept on surfing through the folders in the file cabinet. Sure it had seemed simple enough: do a little check up on some of the past records here. Breaking and entering into someone's office that had more authority than him certainly had not been a apart of that plan.
But hell, it was worth the near heart attacks at every little sound.
He pulled out a thick pile of files, thick enough to be a dictionary and began to absently read them.
'January 10, 1989.
Subject E tells me progress has been slow with our new specimen. I am tempted to admit defeat on implanting a new type into the child. Yet, I can only hope that we will succeed. We have to.
Apparently, my presence in the room has a positive effect on our specimen, despite what other observers had guessed beforehand. If his condition continues to progress with my visits, I shall make each more frequent than the last, to hopefully, trick the specimen into believing it is his reward.
The specimen was also allowed time to see his immediate family for a supervised thirty minute visit. I, however, am concerned about the specimen's intentions. It seems he has been having a little too much comfort time with my partner. I shall have to change that.
Subject E interviewed our specimen again today, and he has told me that the talk went well. While I cannot say that 'Pride' is communicating well with anyone other than the subject, I can say that it is at least a start. He especially will have to be ready in just a few more years. I will not let us fail and lose the only funding we have from our investors.
I feel that we are so close to achieving what we have sought, but am inclined to report that my partner's nerve troubles me. He was not highly eager to begin this project in the first place. And I think the reasons I gave him to continue have begun to dwindle away from his consciousness.
Once we achieve a complete fusion with the subject, I know that his doubts will burn away.
Julia Douglas,
Head of Clinical and Physiological Department for Children.'
Hughes pulled out a loose file with a picture attached to it. Specimen Unknown was tacked to the top in bold letters, and a photo of a young child.
"Oh my god," he whispered, not even hearing the door open behind him.
"I'm surprised that you were so stupid, Sergeant Hughes," Julia Douglass stiffly said.
Maes spun around on his heel, and was met with not just the secretary herself, but another with her.
"What are you people thinking? Doing something like this with the police's money?"
She chuckled lightly, "I don't know what you mean. As far as anyone else will know, this night never occurred, and you never came here."
"I get it," Hughes mumbled while fumbling with a jagged knife in his back pocket. "You think that by silencing me that this will stay quiet. You people are even more stupid than I through you to be."
His eyes narrowed darkly as the woman hissed in anger for the other to attack.
The so-called Subject E flashed once, and then appeared directly in front of him. Cursing at his speed, Hughes took a risky throw and fired the small blade at Julia's cheek. It roughly slashed through and she screeched at the pain.
The young man before him lifted a weapon, and rather than be fast like before, Hughes noted that it was in slow motion. As if he could see the entire thing happening.
Bang.
Julia readjusted her frizzy hair, "Bring the body with us. We can't have any evidence."
A pair of dark rimmed glasses slipped off of the cold face and while the darkness crept into his eyes, Maes found himself thinking of only one thing.
'I'm sorry.'
AN: -Hides- Don't kill me!
(And if you wish to see what follows after this, please review.)