Sadism-
A boy, smaller than most his age, sits in the room quietly. His knees are huddled together, with his arms tightly clasped around them, hoping to acquire some warmth. Tears roll down his clenched eyelids despite internal protests and yet he makes no move to wipe them away.
The darkness surrounds him, here in this room where no light can penetrate. No windows, no cracks, no door.
Well, not counting the latched trap door feet above his head. It is a distance that he could never reach.
So for him, there are no outs or escapes and there is most certainly no light or warmth.
He hasn't seen the outside in what seems to be forever. It scares him to think that he cannot even remember what his house used to look like.
But then again, he can't even recall how his own brother looks. The hair and eyes color, skin tone, facial expressions, are all gone, somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind. And now, he simply does not have the strength nor will to call them up.
The tiny blonde child knows why he is here. Why he was locked up in the 'Temperament' area with a dirt floor and wooden walls. No food or water is allowed to be given to him until the punishment time has expired.
He is starving; his throat is burning, craving water. He'd even drink nasty milk to be rid of the fire sprouting on his tender throat's tissue.
A cough falls from him, developing into a dangerous hack and his head begins to pound on the right side. Dust lingers around his nose and mouth, obscuring his breathing and vision. It hurts his eyes.
Now he wishes he had never misbehaved.
Envy warned him not to try to escape this place. He was told thousands of times since he came here not to bolt past the guards in desperation. Because if he ever did, they would find him and punish him.
Finally succumbing to the bitter cold air, he withdraws his skinny arms into his cotton shirt and wraps them directly on his skin. His chest continues to shake still.
He is tired, and the burning of his eyes is all the more suggesting that he close them, perhaps forever.
It feels like he has been here for that long.
He wants to go home.
He wants someone to hold him.
He wants to fall asleep for eternity.
He wants to believe that god will save him.
He wants to shrivel up and die.
Just three more days, and the specimen will get to see Al.
He can hardly wait.
Roy entered his home expecting to head straight for the coffee pot and then the bathroom for a relaxing shower.
However, as he glanced briefly at the living room, his plan was abruptly derailed.
Hughes lay on his couch with a spare blanket wrapped loosely around him. Alphonse sat in an old foam chair reading a book in silence.
He approached the two, regarding the first with a relieved look. At least he'd been right about Maes. Roy had a feeling he'd have a hard enough time explaining the situation to Gracia as it was, but if Hughes had managed to get himself killed; it would make it much more difficult.
"Sir, is my brother with you?" Al timidly asked as Mustang collapsed into a stool opposite him. He was half afraid of what the answer would be.
Roy dropped his face into his hands, scrubbing at his tired eyes and shook his head.
No.
How was he supposed to explain to the youth that something was wrong with Ed, to the point that he referred to himself as a separate identity? If only he forced the distressed blonde to come with him, rather than let him go freely based on an assumption that he could get him back. No matter how selfish it sounded, all he wanted was to have Edward there wrapping his arms around him in comfort. That always seemed to make him feel better.
Al set whatever text he was reading down and gave a silent sigh. It would have been far too easy to have his stupid brother follow Roy home. Ed did have a flare for complicating situations with little effort.
"Well then, do you at least know where he is?"
"No," Mustang replied, "But Hughes there does, don't you?"
A small smile graced the now-awake sergeant's lips. "How'd you know I wasn't sleeping?"
"Your breathing is hitching more than it would if you really were resting, Maes. Who did you happen to piss off enough for them to break your ribs?" Roy lowered the blanket after getting a glimpse of the battered chest with tightly wrapped bandages covering the purplish tint.
Maes shrugged, "I guess they got angry when I wouldn't tell them about what I knew of their little 'experiments'."
"They?"
"The same ones that took Ed."
A fierce growl of, "Who took Brother?" interrupted the interrogation.
Roy paled.
To tell the protective sibling, or to keep it a secret?
Flames practically danced in the steely eyes glaring at Mustang and he felt the odd need to reply with the former.
But Hughes beat him to it.
"Some sick people. And from what I understand, you should know them too, Al."
The boy paused. He couldn't recall knowing any people like that, or anyone that had taken Ed away from him, right?
"Why would Alphonse know them?"
Hughes answered Roy's question but kept his eyes on Al the entire time. "Far as I know, they took him with Ed."
He didn't even hear the comment made, for he was already searching his memories until something drifted forward.
'Come on, Al. Run faster!'
'Oww… Brother, help me, I can't get up.'
Wait a minute.
'The alarm's going. We have to hurry.'
'Wait Ed, what about you?'
'Never mind. Just get out of here, run to our hideout and stay hidden!'
Where was all of this coming from?
Guards gripped the hands and pulled them behind his back, forcing him down onto the floor.
He looked back and screamed.
'Brother!'
Panicked golden eyes flashed up violently, 'Get out of here Alphonse!'
The younger lingered in the windowsill, crying when a large tranquilizer needle was pushed into the left leg.
'RUN!'
He ran.
Al's head snapped back up as Mustang shook his shoulder gently to get his attention.
"Do you remember anything of yours or Ed's childhood?" Maes repeated once the boy was listening again. Even though he hadn't missed the shocked look on the pale face. He knew the answer to his question was affirmative. But he needed specifics.
"Yeah, I do. Brother was never there. I used to be with him, but he got me out of there, and I can't remember anything before that."
"What are you talking about, Al?" Roy's brow furrowed in confusion, he was completely out of the strange loop the other two were speaking of.
"Roy, they performed experiments where I was taken. Experiments on children." Hughes replied.
"You're kidding me… Then Edward was-?"
"Exactly. I read some reports about the place from our headquarters. Apparently, Ed was the subject they worked the most on. From the sounds of those files, it was like they were trying to create an alternate personality to use for military purposes. And the police force was tied in it, funding all they needed," Maes sat up carefully, wary of his protesting injuries and tried to smooth his bed-hair. "What's even more curious was that one of the primary experimenters came to police headquarters every week. Julia Douglas."
Roy swallowed thickly. No wonder Edward's mind was so messed up then and now. Pride must have been that alternate personality they were trying to create. But what kind of sick fucks would do that to anyone, much less a child. If he had first met Ed back when he was ten, how old would he have been when all that occurred?
The mere thought made his stomach twist.
"So then how did you get out of there?" Did Edward- no, not Ed, -Pride help Hughes like Roy had requested?
"Regardless of everything they must have put that kid through after he was taken there, he was the one that came back and got me out. He just-"
-pulled the burly man's arm over his shorter shoulder, carrying most of the weight slung over him and trudged forward.
'Ed, where are you taking me?' Hughes asked with disinterest as his head lolled to the side and clunked it accidentally against a blonde head.
'I told you, my name's Pride!' The boy hissed, turning a corner to a secluded hallway. 'You told me to find Roy. And I did. He said to get you out of here. So that's what I'm doing.'
'Do you just follow whatever anyone commands?' The injured man slurred, wanting to say that he looked like an innocent puppy, obeying people's wishes.
'That's what I'm supposed to do.'
Pride hoisted Hughes up onto a sturdy pipe off of the ground and held his back to keep him on it.
Maes clumsily grasped onto the window ledge.
'Can you climb out on your own?'
'Yeah. I think so.'
He looked back slowly at the black figure running away from sight. The kid had said he had to get back to his Master quickly. Was that where he was going?
No matter.
Hughes groaned as he pulled his body up and out of the window. His mangled frame inside was screaming with each bare movement.
Thank heaven he was coherent enough to remember the way to Roy's house.
For other than the man himself, there was sure to be bandages, food, water, and Aspirin.
He became unconscious at the doorstep, where-
"-Al kindly put me back together."
Roy thought for a moment then wandered to his kitchen for some of that coffee he had desired previously. Hell, he'd prefer vodka or some form of alcohol, but his getting drunk would hardly help them.
He stopped in front of the main door when he heard a faint clicking on the other side.
Not wanting to startle what was outside his humble abode, and hoping that he was mistaken, Mustang tentatively set down his steaming mug on the floor.
Unarmed, he opened the door a crack, silently at first, but with a fierce slam at the end.
Cool night air greeted him along with his front yard.
And suddenly he was forced back with a strong kick to his stomach.
He hated being right.
Roy landed on his tailbone painfully. Grabbing his neglected cup, he threw it at whoever was approaching him.
The attacker cried out from the heat penetrating his delicate eyes and randomly fired a shot with his previously concealed gun.
Mustang's beloved microwave, where he prepared all of his meals, went on the fritz with little blue bolts of electricity falling around it.
Talking the opportunity of his opponent's momentary blindness, Roy launched himself at the other, knocking the surprisingly shorter man over backwards.
He struggled to get the firearm away from the gloved hand and ended up grabbing a fistful of the coat underneath him.
In horror, he looked down.
It was his jacket, the one he had given Ed to wear.
Strong gloved hands wretched away from his grasp and the other reared onto his haunches, prepared to spring.
This couldn't be…
Roy stared for a third time in his life into his lover's fierce golden eyes as the blonde tried to kill him.
"Edward," He whispered lightly.
"What's going on in there?" Mustang heard Hughes' shout from the adjacent room, and he had half a mind to shout back for them to stay in there.
"Brother?"
Too late.
Alphonse stared at the feral image of his brother, gun in hand, glaring at Roy, looking as though he wanted to rip the older man's throat out. His eyes were that frightening dark gold with no recognition that Al remembered so well.
"Brother, what are you doing?"
Pride looked to the one speaking and somewhere deep within his mind a scream rang out.
'Don't you touch my little brother! Get away from them!'
He ignored it.
This man was supposed to be alone. That was what Pride was told.
He glared at the two men staring at him, one disbelievingly, the other with pained eyes.
Why did they cause such a longing ache in his chest? Why did he want nothing more than to run and curl up in both of their arms?
Pride did the only thing he could think of in this familiar yet new situation.
He fled.
"Brother!" Al cried out as Pride sped away down the alley.
Mustang dragged himself to his feet and stopped Alphonse from chasing after him.
"Stay here with Hughes. I'll go after him."
Before Al had time to protest at being left out of the same thing a second time, he was alone standing in an open doorway.
Be careful, he wanted to call out.
Roy chased after the blonde blur speeding down a back alley.
His target wildly turned left, losing a fraction of his speed, and allowing the predator to gain a few inches of closeness.
He had no idea where Edward was going. All he knew was that he had to keep up this pace, had to keep running, and had to catch him eventually.
A basket ball court came into his vision.
Pride dashed madly up to the chain link fence surrounding it, scaled to the top, dropped to the pavement, and looked back to see if that insane man was still following him.
He was.
In fright Pride scrambled away as the man copied his quick actions. He made it to the opposite wall of the court.
The man was coming closer.
Why couldn't he just kill the guy like his Master commanded? He supposed to follow commands, it was the only reason he existed. Then why couldn't he just turn and pull the trigger?
Roy panted in relief of the short break. The blonde was cornered, there was no place that he could run or hide.
Unfortunately, Mustang hadn't had the time or decency to plan what he was going to do once he caught Ed.
The golden eyes stared at him in panic, hands rising shakily equipped with a gun.
Feeling a little unsure of how safe that was, Roy stepped a bit closer and the hands noticeably raised higher, already in the proper shooting position.
Should he continue, or back off?
If he continued, Ed could fire at himself like last time, but if he backed off, Ed may get away.
So, he remained rooted where he was.
"Shoot me." He commanded. Sanity was not a question at this point.
The hands shook more violently, steadied briefly, then reverted back to trembling.
His mind told him to fire; his Master told him to fire, his supposed prey told him to fire. But his heart told him to throw down the gun.
He did.
The weapon fell from his fingertips, clattering to the ground with a loud clank.
Roy moved quickly and kicked it away, out of reach to either of them.
It probably would have been smart to pick it up himself and gain the upper hand. At least, that's what his police instincts screamed at him to do.
Instead, he swiftly moved directly in front of the distressed boy and wrapped his arms around the lithe body tightly, before Ed could protest.
Pride stiffened at the contact, wanting nothing more than to slither away.
But, if that was so, why was he pressing his cheek into the strong chest? Why were tears rolling down his cheeks?
"I should have known that you were too spineless to follow through with a simple order."
Pride looked in abject horror as Envy leaned out of a car door on the road across from them and revealed the same type of gun Pride used to have.
The barrel pointed at Roy's back.
Bang.
He was pushed aside before he even had a chance to comprehend what was happening. Mustang heard tires squeal and his head whipped over to a black vehicle speeding away.
What was that noise before then?
He turned to see Edward fly back onto the paved ground, unsettled dust flowing up in clouds around him.
A gunshot.
His faltered steps crept up to the still body cautiously, not quite sure if either of them were breathing. They quickly broke out into a rush when he realized that no, Ed's chest was not rising and falling as it should be.
He fell to his knees and cradled the blonde head, loose hair tickling his arm.
The lips were turning purple, the skin was white under tear stains, and the eyes were unblinking, frozen in shock.
Edward's hands were cold.
They were cold.
No matter how many of Roy's own salty and warm tears fell onto the hand he grasped and pressed to his lips, they remained cold.
Cold.
AN: I have been dying to write this chapter from the beginning. I know, it sounds a little sadistic. But hey, I am the author, and sadly, I have that authority.