Roy sipped his coffee calmly, his body relaxed into the brown chair beneath him. But he wasn't calm nor was he relaxed despite what his body language looked like. Inside, his mind was buzzing with unsaid questions and concerns, he was thinking of a way to bring Edward out of the dark without giving away the fact that he had intentionally taken Ed's private journal. Right then, the possibility of this going unnoticed was short of nothing. If Roy didn't say anything, Edward would be sucked into the murky darkness of his terror, if Roy did say something, Edward and his teetering relationship would most likely be ruined by distrust and accusation, and Roy didn't want either to happen.

It was selfish of his to wait, to stop and think of a way to make his friendship with Edward still live despite his treachery, but Roy wanted to be near Ed and without his trust, Edward would make it close to impossible. Roy ran his fingers through his hair lazily, plopping the coffee cup onto the low table, pushing himself from the chair his form had molded to. He stretched out, ignoring the pops of his joints, and limped towards the kitchen, starting when he saw a disheveled Edward talking in a hushed voice with Alphonse. He seemed desperate, and by the way he tugged at the end of his ponytail, he was most likely stressed.

"What's the problem?" Roy asked, leaning against the counter in attempt to appear lackadaisical. Edward jumped around and pushed hair from his eyes, a flustered blush coating his nose and cheeks. Outside the storm raged on, throwing sheets of hail and rain at the windows and roof. Edward's head sagged and he mumbled out, looking at Roy from under his absurdly long eyelashes, "Have you seen a little brown journal?"

Roy struggled not to let the guilt and pain show on his face, and apparently, from Ed's unchanged expression, he succeeded. Roy raised his eyebrow.

"Why Fullmetal, I didn't know you had a diary." Edwards golden eyes jumped up to his and glared at him pointedly. "It's not a diary, Jackass, I'm serious, have you seen it or not?"

Roy shrugged. "No." He lied, hoping it slipped through his lips unnoticed. Edward's exotic eyes narrowed suspiciously, but if he knew what Roy did, he wasn't saying anything. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead he moved to push past Mustang with malicious. Roy grabbed onto his forearm.

"Please, Edward, just tell me what's going on. Al and I just want to help." Edward's lips pulled up over his teeth. "I can deal with it myself." And with that he pulled his arm from Roy's grip and strode out of the kitchen.

Roy sighed and began to limp after him. It wouldn't be good to leave Edward alone, especially after Ed's rampage through his guest bedroom. Roy's leg pain was pushed aside as he jumped up the carpeted stairs one at a time, determined to make Edward spit it out. He tiptoed towards Edwards room and pushed the door open a crack to find the golden boy staring at the wall in distaste. He got up from the bed and began pacing around. A twist of emotion went through his face and Roy felt himself react with surprise. It wasn't very often that you got to see Edwards true emotions, instead of anger and stubbornness, and so with the emotions so clear on his features, Roy stared in fascination as each emotion flitted on his face.

Anger, guilt, self-pity, determination, despair. It was hard to keep up with everything as they went racing through from his face at a fast pace. Roy sighed as Ed got up and started throwing things around, in hopes of finding the very thing that was in his office at that very moment. He turned away and went towards the door across from it into his office, looking at the loathsome and sad journal sitting on his desk. He clicked on the lamp and sat down, opening up to a random place before letting himself become absorbed into the sad, jumpy writing of Ed.

Day 56

I've grown tired of her attitude. She acts as if I am not her father, as if I have no control over what she does. Once, long ago, she told me she would always be the good little girl she wanted to be, that she would never loose herself to drugs, sex, or anything of the sort. But lately, with the bags growing under her eyes, her continuous jumpy, nervous movements, I fear she has gotten into something far deeper than just drugs.

It was on a cold winter morning that the police come. They are wearing mournful expressions, their faces drawn, stressed and pitying. And it is then when I know what has happened. They took my little baby. My sweet sweet Angelica, whose hair was a summers yellow and blue eyes were jewels under that brilliance.

"We're sorry for your loss." They say, but I do not hear them. My wife comes up behind me, her smile disappearing as she sees the tears in my eyes. She knows. Sobs escape from her, and she hunches over, hands pulled to her chest as the sorrow, the pain so raw, so painful, envelopes, her, wrapping its suffocating cloak around her shoulders and heart.

But I can't comfort her if I can't comfort myself. I repeat to myself over and over. "No. No. No." Maybe this is a dream, I hope. Maybe I'll wake up and find my little girl next to me, sleeping like the angel she was named after. But no. I know for a fact now that she's gone. Dead. Pulled away from us by the horrible, deadly men who sells drugs and knew just how much Angelica owed.

My wife falls to her knees and cries and cries and cries. We are broken, and will be forever without our little girl, without our beautiful daughter. I had hoped to survive through this life without any horrible losses without anything to weigh on our shoulders and hold us to the ground. But I was wrong. My daughter is gone and she's never coming back. And I can't help but feel that this is somehow my fault.

My baby girl. Gone.

Roy scrubbed his eyes and turned to the very end of the journal. if he was truly going to help Edward it would be by reading the last entry, the one that had caused Edward such grief, such a rampage in his heart. Roy was almost certain it would be there.

Day 632

This never should have happened. I shouldn't have to of been forced to do something as horrible as this. Nobody should experience this horror, nobody should experience this pain. I have seen my share, but not to this degree. Why the Fuhrer would call to such extreme it escapes me. But I know that I must do whatever it takes to live through this. I have dreams, goals, things I need to accomplish. Nothing is going to take that away. Not a doubt. Not a war.

I walk down the sandy path with deliberate grace, hoping to appear confident. Show fear and you are dead. The sandy dirt crunches under my military boots and I scuff them against the ground indifferently. They mean nothing in this place full of blood. I crouch down in the shadows, which is hard to do when the sun beats down on you, menacing and unmerciful. I sprint towards the tan walls of one of the Ishvalan houses. Each step seems to echo around me, painfully loud.

I tense as a shadow pushes from the edge of the bend, showing a shadow of a tall, thin man. Don't move, I warn myself, don't move an inch.

Seconds tick by and everything feels like it's crashing down around me like child blocks, troublesome and irritating. I need to annihilate the enemy. But are they really the enemy? No, they are just trying to live, as I am. Sweat pours down the sides of my face and my hair sticks to my forehead. I don't have time to wipe it away, the enemy jumps from the corner, gun drawn and ready to fire.

No! I scream to myself. No! I reach out my hand and snap. Fire leaps from my fingers and were there was once a strong young man, fighting for his people, is a blackened corpse, falling limply to the ground as the smell of burning flesh and skin suffocates me.

The guilt swallows me.

Roy jumped up from the table, turning the chair over in the process. He backed away slowly, breathing shallowly as fear jumbled up inside of him. It wasn't possible that Edward could have access to Roy's memories, thoughts and sacred dreams. They were private, and though Roy knew it was not Edward's fault, he couldn't help but feel fury, fury because his thoughts were being looked at and analyzed, fury that they were not his own anymore.

Roy put his head in his hands. There couldn't be anyone else with the same Fire Alchemy gloves, unless they were being incredibly discreet, which was near impossible. No wonder Edward freaked, to live through someone else's thoughts, and try to act as if that someone were the same, even though you knew their thoughts, was unbelievably hard. Not that Roy could understand. He had lived his live in blissful ignorance, not even believing such an impossible thing was possible, thinking that Edward had suffered and that was that. But how wrong he was.

How incredibly stupid he had been.

How could he not have seen this? How could he not of seen what was so blatantly obvious, waving around in his face? That Ed was suffering, more so than he originally thought, more so than anyone could see. He had seen the subtle hints of Edward's pain. In the way his large, arrogant smile wavered slightly. The way his eyes glazed over and a storm of inner turmoil entered them to form a deep, sorrowful gold. He had left such obvious hints, and yet had kept it hidden for so long, so skillfully that even he, Roy Mustang, master at reading a person like a book, had not seen it.

And now Edward was paying the price. He was going insane; anyone could see that, with the emotions, memories thoughts that weren't his own. If only Roy had looked harder, if only he hadn't been to busy ignoring the boy, trying to stifle the attraction he had felt for him.

There's no point complaining about it if you're not doing anything about, his mind lectured him, bringing his pitiful thoughts to a halt. Moving back towards the table, he gave the journal a distasteful look before sitting back down before it. It was open, flipped to some random page from when his fingers had slipped from his page, and the day was unmarked and there was only one sentence on the page, causing curiosity to blossom inside him.

Memories, the forever punishment.

It sounded like complete nonsense to Roy, gibberish placed together to create a poetic line, most likely the persons famous last words. For all Roy knew it could be nothing but something Ed felt the need to write down, but something about the curved handwriting, so different from Edwards gave Roy a foreboding feeling. Did Edward let someone else see such a private thing? Surely not, considering the immense importance that leaked from the pages. So who had written such a horrible, belittling quotation? Who had punished Edward with this saying, so that every time he opened his book, he would look at that and know, just what he did wrong, just what his desperation had brought him.

Roy's thoughts were immediately cut off, by the loud out of place clicking of a door being opened, and he turned around, book opened in his lap, to meet the eyes of a sad, downcast Edward Elric. His eyes narrowed momentarily, and slowly, his gaze shifted downward, taking in the sight before him.

His own journal, clasped in Roy's tightening hand.

Rage entered the young boy's gaze, such a ferocious emotion, that it had Roy backpedaling, locked in place, excuses dying on his tongue. Nothing could get him out of the fury which was headed his way. Striding forward Edward snatched the book from Roy's clasp, cold violent rage burning in his tawny eyes.

"Why the hell do you have this?" He questioned coldly, enough venom leaking into each word to make Roy flinch. What was he now? Brought down to a civilian by the untouchable Fullmetal Alchemist. Where were his indifferent masks, his condescending smirks, his hot impatient retorts? With one sentence, Ed had brought down the all mighty Roy Mustang to his level, and with just one, lethal, distasteful glare, he had made Roy feel powerless.

"I'm sorry."

The words were no more than a whisper, and in the silent act of submission he bowed his head.

"You're sorry?" Edward spat out fiercely, looking at Roy in disbelief. "You steal my notebook, force out my greatest secret, and your sorry?"

Edward pulled back a fist, and punched.

God, Roy had been expecting it, waiting for Edward fury to reach a breaking point until it became physical, but nothing could save him from the hate, the anger directed into that punch. Roy feel back onto the ground in total defeat. Loud, stomping footsteps moved closer towards him, and he flinched, anticipating all hell to break lose on him, only to squint as Ed's advantages came to an utter halt.

"Brother!" Alphonse bit out, gritting his teeth when Ed yanked one arm from his grasp. He was holding Ed his underarms, locking Edward in place as he trembled with uncontrollable rage.

"You god damn bastard! I will kill you! If you think you can get away with that, then you are fucking wrong!" He gave a vindictive pull away from Alphonse sudden tense figure, using it to his advantage. He pulled forward, breaking lose only to be pulled back when Alphonse snapped out of his stupor.

"What did you do Brigadier General?" Al was deadly calm, only concerned for Edward's wellbeing. If Roy had laid one hand one Edward, than he knew he would feel far more than just broken bones and bruises.

"I didn't do anything," Roy hissed out, glaring at the flailing boy. Golden eyes narrowed in hate and malice. "I was trying to help. He wouldn't let me, so I forced my way in. Who would've known the great Fullmetal Alchemist had a diary?" It was easy to turn to mean taunts instead of tender apologies; it was the only thing Roy knew how to work with. To bring about the long rant, and to leave it at that. Roy should have known that would not be how it ended.

"Let me go, Al." Alphonse gave a weak shake of his head before dubiously dropping his hands from Ed's arms. Immediately, Edward pulled away from Alphonse weary hands.

He glared down at Roy in cold indifference.

"I can't believe I trusted you."

That one comment cut through Roy like a knife, and he bowed his head again under its weight, grimacing away the mask.

"Look-" Roy began only to get cut off by a long, drawn out chuckle.

"I love those sappy scenes where the Protagonist and his lover make up. But to tell you the truth, this just makes me sick." The voice was male and rough, as if they had spent their entire life smoking, and slowly, from the shadows of the doorway emerged a tall, lithe person, with dark blonde hair sticking up around the crown of their head. Roy swallowed as horrible memories entered his mind.

And a Fox mask that covered the wicked cruel smile underneath.

"Finally," The fiend sighed, "Your memories will be ours."

And the lights blinked out, plunging them into darkness.

Authors Note- Sorry I was really late with the chapter, I have been focusing on my new story Ensnarled and I got kind of carried away. Plus, inspiration is kind of hard to find. Review if you want me to continue! (sorry its short!)