I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any other already copyrighted material I may have missed.

The first five words of the summary are meant to scare off people who spook easy. If the rubber-guts Kurt Russell horror movie, "The Thing", makes your skin crawl than this might not be the fic for you. You won't be considered weak if you don't read this. Rated M with good reason.

This fic contains intense segments of graphic imagery, small child molestation and rape, nauseating gore, torture, mutilation, language, screaming, tears, extremes of emotion in the raw, and puppy kicking. There's also a lot of teary fluff and the occasional poor attempt at humor; mainly bitch jokes and cute stuff. Some of it is pretty dark. Many good people die to the suffering of others and I can assure you that I will earn every word of my profile.

THIS IS NOT A YAOI! In the words of the great and powerful Yoda, that I do not own the copy write for, "You must unlearrrn what you have learned." And that goes for all the sick-minded readers; you know who you are!

LEGEND:

I get really creative with the English language, so hopefully this will help to break it down. Some of this is the slap-in-the-face obvious, but I'll list it anyway for good measure. I'm not calling anyone stupid, just keeping it professional so bare with me, there's some pretty important stuff in hear.

"Quotes," – talking aloud, weather it is to him/herself or one or more other persons.

Italics alone – one's thoughts.

Italics without quotes in the middle of a sentence – emphasis

Can shift mid-sentence "from talking" to thinking "to talking again."

The same applies to underlining and "underlining with quotes", sometimes using a mishmash of all four.

Underlining – speaking with gestures, eyes, body language, and the like, such as shaking a fist to show anger or rolling your eyes in frustration. Some of it is self-explanatory, but later on there's a character that mostly talks this way and giving it words paints a better picture of what's being said.

"Underlining with quotes," – the same as just underlining, except the quotes indicate mouthing silent words. Sometimes when someone tries to speak it comes out far too quiet to pick up.

All of the above can be combined with the following levels of volume.

Level 1: "Italics with quotes," – talking in a hushed or low, harsh voice, such as whispering, or reprimanding someone in a low key to emphasize anger.

Level 2: Normally structured sentences – normal voice

Level 3: All First Letters Capitalized – yelling and hollering, like calling for someone, but not screaming

Level 4: ALL LETTERS CAPITALIZED – screaming

("Any of the 4 levels of volume,") – a sentence enclosed in () indicates a distant or muffled voice, like listening through a closed door or yelling from a distance.

Looks easy enough to me, but then again I'm the writer so I could be wrong, just felt like saying that to cover my ass.

I know that was an awful lot of rambling, but most of it is meant to either warn or inform you. Some of this will be posted at the start of every chapter. There are a lot of you that skip strait to the story, I know because I'm one of them, and this is the best way to make sure that I got most of you before it's too late. There'll be a line after it for those that already read it.

Broken Stride

By … Lady of the Northern Mountains

I.e. K. L. Nelson

Ch.2 In Dreams

Everything was growing darker by the minute.

His whole body hurt.

…what… happened?

The question gnawed at him.

…I… I can't… move… why can't I move?

The cold, damp air was thick and heavy and his head started to ache as a new question perplexed him.

…where am I…?

Somewhere in the churning blackness a faint light stirred and he opened his eyes; there was someone standing about ten feet away. Lifting his eyes as far as he could he dimly saw a woman clad in light, earthy tan robes, her face just beyond his sight. He thought he was hallucinating when he saw her wings. They were of deep, rich browns, like the colors of a Golden Eagle. Despite the electric lighting she seemed to have a faint glow of her own. After a long moment the, angel slowly walked up to him in a smooth, almost airy gait, her bare feet soundlessly falling upon the pebble littered stone floor.

She knelt in front of him. All he could do was stare in a semiconscious haze as she leaned closer and held his face in her hands. Closing his eyes he let her hold him and felt the warmth of her hands as she began stroking the side of his face.

Gently resting him back on the ground, she letting go of him and slowly rose up and stepped around him and out of view.

She started pulling his hands out from under something heavy. He felt something shift, but it wasn't him. Feeling a great weight he didn't know was there rising off his shoulders his lungs drank deep the air he didn't know he had been starving for. He could breathe again and felt every muscle in his body relax, but he still couldn't lift his head to see her face. There was something about her, something familiar.

Turning back to Edward, she lifted his limp body in her arms and pulled him up so he was sitting in her lap, resting his back against her chest. He started to feel some of his strength returning. Leaning back against the wall, she held him in her arms. Tears began streaming down his face as he felt the warm embrace of soft feathers folding over him like a blanket as she lovingly wrapped him in her wings. He now knew who she was. Looking up, he stared into the loving eyes of his mother.

Rolling sideways, he curled up in her arms and softly cried in her robes as she held him closer.

" Shhh, you're safe."

"Why, Mom… why did you leave us?"

There was a moment of silence.

"I never left you… and I never will."

Slowly opening his eyes he found himself once more lying face down on the cold stone floor.

Everything came rushing back and Edward jolted to his feet, but he had been lying on his chest for too long and his head and stomach to handle it. A wave of nausea hit him full force and he hunched over and dropped to his knees and right hand with the other clasped over his mouth, but he managed to keep it down.

He straightened up slower knowing he wouldn't be so lucky the next time around and sat between his feet with an automail hand still pressed to his stomach. Damn it, where's Roy?

It took him a second to fully comprehend the question. Looking about from where he sat his eyes rested on the still form of a man lying on his side next to him within arms reach.

Yanking off his left glove with his teeth, he grabbed Roy's wrist and felt for a pulse, nothing. Somehow maintaining his cool Edward quickly rolled him on his back and slipped his hand under Roy's neck, his lips were little blue. Lifting it so his head still touched the ground he rolled up a jacket and stuffed it under his neck to keep it there, opening the windpipe clear to the lungs just like his mother had once taught him and Alphonse.

Next he reached his fingers down the man's throat to make sure it was clear of obstructions, it was. Closing Roy's nose with one hand and holding his jaw open with the other he pressed his mouth over the man's without a moment's hesitation, trying to breath life back into him. Edward wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect, but he immediately cast such thoughts aside; a man's life hung in the balance. He lifted his face up and away between breaths to draw fresh air for Roy. Every time he did, he lowered his ear and quickly listened for a response.

After repeating seven times he switched to compressions. Placing his right hand over the left, Edward laced his upper fingers down between the lowers with the lower hand still spread open and braced his arms. Twice a second he pulsed all his weight straight down on the sternum just where his rib cage split in a not so mild panic, forcing the lungs to contract and expand. Edward was thankful that his arm was numb; it hurt enough as it was. He flinched as he felt a rib crack, but it didn't stop or even slow him. Better to have a broken rib and live! After fifteen times he switched back to breathing and started silently crying, his tears falling on the lifeless face of a dying friend.

Switching back again to compressions his hope started to wane, but he kept at it knowing it could take over fifteen minutes. His tears fell heavier as he forced himself to stay calm.

"…come ooon…" He wanted to breathe for him again, but he was crying too hard. Roy was the closest thing he ever had to a father, and the reason he wore a cuff had only enforced that image. The incident had both humbled and traumatized the man on a level that bordered clinical shock.

Ten minutes passed and still nothing. His tears had stopped and he could breathe for him again. Even so, he knew that he was still so high strung that if Roy started breathing he'd quickly turn into an emotional train wreck, sobbing till he could hardly breathe. Almost on Q Roy jolted awake and instinctively flipped over, gasping and choking on the fluid that had settled in his lungs. Edward damn near jumped out of his skin.

Wasting no time he wrapped his arms around the man's diaphragm and lifted him slightly so his head was lower than his chest, his right arm did most of the lifting. Roy spent a good minute hacking his lungs dry. It sounded more like a deep barking that reminded Edward of a sick dog. Being scarcely conscious he was no doubt oblivious to everything. Edward was a little chilled but Roy was out right hypothermic. His hands were stiff too. He hoped they were just tense and not frostbitten. Lord knows its cold enough for that.

Soon as his breathing calmed Edward rested him on his side and transmuted their now damp jackets into a thick, dry, heated, blanket. There was enough material to make one large enough for the both of them. Throwing it over Roy, he dragged him and the blanket to the wall as best he could with just one arm. Edward sat his back to it and pulled the man up so he was lying sideways into him and folded in Roy's arms. Unbraiding his hair, he pulled it over his left shoulder to act as a cushion between the man's head and his shoulder wounds.

Tucking the man's face into his neck, he pulled the blanket up over their shoulders. Edward kept his right arm and shoulder out from under the blanket and did the same with his left leg from the mount down. The cold metal would have only made things worse. Cradling the man to his chest he hugged him tight and close with his thighs, making as much contact as possible to warm him.

Roy was a lot colder and drew up his legs a little, leaning heavier into him as a subconscious reaction to this newfound warmth. Edward's eyes immediately widened and he gasped, groaning from the pain this brought him. His chest still felt crushed from Roy's full weight pressing it to the cold stone floor and the way he had wrapped him with his thighs both chilled and pinched him in ways he didn't quite appreciate. Damn It… The Man's An Ice Pack! If He Doesn't Warm Up Soon We'll Both Freeze. His face flushed crimson at the though of what it must look like. Then he started softly crying again as a new one came to mind. But at least he's alive. It only just hit him that he had almost lost Roy and it made him hug him all the tighter as he started to sob a little. He resisted the urge to rest his face in Roy's hair to avoid the head wound.

Hearing a yip Edward turned to see Nina appear from around the bend. The puppy scampered straight for him at breakneck, tripping on her feet with her ears flapping wildly the whole way in total panic. It was comical and he couldn't help but smile at her. Somewhere along the way she had stopped to rest. Frightened and lost, Nina had been scrambling to catch up ever since. He didn't even realize she was gone. Shoving her nose under the blanket she wormed her way up and between Roy's arms, nestling into his still colder chest. Edward let out a soft chuckle at the irony of it.

"Trust me girl, it ain't much warmer in here." She curled and yawned before plopping her head down and fell asleep almost immediately, having finally found a safe place to rest. Edward was glad she chose that spot against Roy's chest, it meant another source of warmth.

Now coming off the adrenaline high, Edward could feel every ache coming back to haunt him. It felt like his whole body was screaming at him for what he put it through. Overwhelming exhaustion added to the surge of pain, knocking him cold. Long after loosing consciousness he still clung tightly to his wounded friend.

No matter how long it takes me to update I'm not giving up on this fic and I have already started another one.

This is the kind of non-yaoi closeness I've been telling you about.