Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ The Sound of Silence ❯ The Offer ( Chapter 9 )

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The Sound of Silence

 

Chapter Eight

 

The Offer

 

Ed folded his arms irritably and stared at the man behind the desk. Sometimes he wondered why the hell he bothered to report in anyway. It always seemed as if the bastard already knew what was happening.

 

Mustang flopped the report on the desk and looked up at Ed with a smirk. “Well, I suppose you could be commended for getting the job done right without any major damage being inflicted on the unsuspecting town.”

 

The sixteen-year-old scowled darkly, but kept quiet.

 

Sighing, the colonel stood up and walked to the window. He looked out for almost a full minute before saying, “You know, you could at least act like you're following orders. Some of the stuff in that report was really inappropriate for a State Alchemist to do.”

 

“Who the hell cares?” Ed growled irritably. “I got the mother-fucking job done, and nothing—well, almost nothing—got destroyed, so it isn't as if any money is coming out of the damn budget.”

 

“Watch your language,” Mustang said automatically.

 

“I thought you liked it,” Ed purred flippantly, and felt some satisfaction when his superior officer momentarily turned his head to scowl at him. Ed wasn't stupid. He watched what he referred to when others were around, but when it was just them, he didn't try as hard to keep his tongue.

 

Why should he?

 

All that mattered was that no one else found out about what was going on between them. And, of course, Ed kept his peace. For Al, he kept his peace. For himself too, in a way. After all, he couldn't imagine telling someone what was happening. Sometimes he wanted to, but who would he tell? No one would believe him, and even if they did, then what? Probably both he and Mustang would be punished for their `indecent conduct'; perhaps even get kicked out of the military.

 

No.

 

No, he couldn't let that happen.

 

He still needed to use the military for his own purposes.

 

When the colonel continued to keep his peace, Ed went on to another matter of business. “Do you know of a man named Tim Marcoh?” There was silence for a moment, and he continued, “Seems a doctor by that name was healing people in Xenotime, and people said they saw him use a red stone.”

 

More silence, then, “No. Sorry, I don't know him.”

 

Ed frowned. Mustang was lying, and he knew it.

 

“Surely you, of all people, would know about him. I mean, you know just about everything, right?” Ed said smoothly, trying to flatter the man into giving him the information.

 

There was a shake of the head, then, “Sorry. Can't help you.”

 

“Can't or won't?” Ed asked in frustration.

 

Silence.

 

Bastard, he thought. How dare the man keep this vital information to himself!?

 

“I'll keep an eye out for any information on him,” Mustang answered in a tone that said he had no such intention of doing that.

 

Ed blew out his breath in frustration. He knew the colonel knew. Ed needed to find this man Marcoh. The man could have the information he and Al needed to get Al back to normal. How could he get Mustang to tell him?

 

It was then that the thought came to him.

 

In revulsion, Ed pushed the thought away. He couldn't do that. In all this time he'd never offered himself for information. It was always the colonel who came to him, enticing him with `gifts', pretending to be friendly and caring. Of course, it was all bullshit. Mustang just wanted to fuck him. All the rest was just pretty packaging.

 

But now the colonel wasn't offering anything. It was very clear in his voice that he had no intention of telling Ed what he knew. How could he do that to him? Especially since this could be so important!

 

Again the thought came, and once more Ed pushed it away. He couldn't. He just couldn't. He still had some trouble saying the things Mustang liked him to say, asking the things Mustang liked him to ask; how could he possibly offer himself like that? How could he be enticing enough to get the man to give him the information?

 

And it would have to be a big offer.

 

He swallowed hard as he thought what it would take to convince the man to tell what he obviously didn't want to. As the silence stretched on, Ed's heart began beating faster and faster in his chest. Deciding to do it before the moment passed, or before he chickened out, Ed stood and walked quietly over to where the colonel was still staring out the window.

 

When he was close enough that his body was almost touching the other man's, Ed whispered, “You know… I can tell…”

 

More silence.

 

With an effort to keep his nervous breathing under control, Ed stepped forward and pressed the front of his body to Mustang's back and snaked his hand around to fondle the man. “Isn't there… anything… I can do that would convince you to tell me?”

 

The colonel sighed and tipped his hips forward, pressing his groin into Ed's hand, then said, “It's not like that. This information is...”

 

“Come on, don't keep this from me,” Ed breathed, trying to sound sexy, but just feeling like an idiot.

 

“This information isn't for sale, Ed,” Mustang said, but Ed was determined. He'd already embarrassed himself by taking the initiative to offer; he wasn't going to take `no' for an answer. As much as he wished he could just back away and pretend he wasn't doing this, he couldn't. He'd promised Al that he would find a way to get him back to normal, and he meant to keep that promise. No matter what.

 

“Everything has a price, Roy,” he breathed, feeling a bit stupid for using the man's first name, but it just seemed right here. “Just name it. I need to find this man.”

 

Suddenly Mustang turned around, grabbed him, and roughly shoved him against the wall next to the window. Indecision raged in Mustang's black eyes. The desire to keep the information to himself fought a desperate battle against the lustful need to accept Ed's offer.

 

“Anything... Ed?” the colonel asked breathily. “Anything at all?”

 

Fear washed over him, but he couldn't back down. He'd said anything, and since that was the offer, to go back on it would mean no deal. Swallowing hard, Ed croaked, “Yeah, anything...”

 

The colonel's eyes shifted away in thought, then back to him. “Anything?”

 

Look sexy! Ed told himself when he realized he was cowering and shaking like a cornered animal. “Yeah, anything.” That came out more smoothly and he reached around, grabbed the man's ass and pulled him forward, letting their bodies press together.

 

Well, perhaps he wasn't looking `sexy', but he was definitely making some progress. Mustang reached down and wiggled his fingers between the wall and Ed's rear, and squeezed.

 

“Tonight. I want you to come over tonight, and I want you to want it. I want you to be ready to do anything I tell you to. I don't want to have to tell you to talk to me; I want you to do that on your own, like you're doing now. Understand?”

 

Be ready to do anything. That meant he wanted...

 

Ed nodded unhappily.

 

He understood.

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

“Brother, you're so quiet tonight. Are you feeling okay?”

 

Ed glanced over to his brother and looked the metal armor up and down. What could he say? He couldn't very well tell his brother that he'd been so quiet because he was trying to figure out how he was going to get through tonight.

 

“Yeah, Al, I'm fine,” he said, forcing a grin. Mustang wanted him to act like he wanted it, to really act like he wanted it. Not just say the words because he'd been asked to. If he wasn't convincing enough, the colonel might not tell him where Marcoh was at, and it would all be for nothing.

 

“Well you're usually not this quiet, so I thought maybe you were sick. Do you need to eat dinner?” Ed wanted to shake his head and refuse the offer of food, but it was rare that he refused to eat. If he did that, Al would be suspicious.

 

“Yeah! That's what I need!” he said with an exuberance he didn't feel. No, he would have to do this right, but how could he possibly act like he wanted...

 

“You wanna go to a restaurant?” his brother asked, sounding relieved that Ed seemed to be back to normal. Ed was glad he could still fool his brother; glad he could still fool everyone. Of course, it was all an act. The days where he was truly happy and carefree where gone now, replaced by responsibility, guilt, doubt, and fear.

 

“Naw, let's just order something to come here,” Ed said with a smile. Everyday he was afraid that someone would find out about what he and Mustang were doing. He couldn't let that happen. It was his fault Al was the way he was, and he needed to fix it.

 

“You don't want to go out?” Ed could hear the concern return to his brother's voice.

 

“Nope.” I'll be going out later. “I think I want to just lie around here for now.” I need to figure something out. He needed to do this. No matter how disgusted he felt about it, he needed to do it.

 

“Well, if you're sure,” Al said hesitantly.

 

“I'm sure.”

 

I'm not sure about anything...

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Ed closed the bathroom door and locked it. Sighing, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The image that gazed back at him looked tired and worried. That wouldn't do. He splashed his face with water and dried it off with a towel.

 

When he looked in the glass again, nothing seemed to have changed. With another sigh, Ed walked to the toilet, undid his pants, and relieved himself. After flushing, he was about to redo his pants when an idea came to him.

 

Slowly, he let his fingers gently touch the smooth skin of his penis, and it twitched slightly in response. He stared down for several moments. It wasn't as if he'd never gotten himself off before, but now that wouldn't be his purpose now. If he could just get himself to the point where he needed it, without finishing, maybe...

 

Again he touched himself, letting his fingers press and massage the areas that were most sensitive. Suddenly another thought came to him and he frowned. Mustang would probably want to fuck him up his ass. Since that night putting anything up there had been avoided, but he was sure the colonel would want it.

 

With his other hand, Ed reached over and grabbed the bottle of lotion the motel had provided. He looked at both of his hands, the metal one and the real one. Shaking his head, feeling slightly embarrassed at what he was about to do, Ed squeezed some of the lotion out and rubbed his hands together. Grabbing his hardening sex with the automail hand, Ed bent over slightly and hesitantly touched his opening with one of his real fingers.

 

His heart suddenly began pounding in his chest and his muscles began to reflexively tighten. Relax... he told himself desperately. That was what Mustang had always said. He needed to relax. He'd never been able to relax before. No matter how much the colonel told him to, he'd never been able to just let go.

 

He felt a flash of fear run through him as images from that night filled his mind. He wanted to cower in the corner and hide from the memories. He shook his head roughly as if that would make the images go away.

 

Sometimes it did. Sometimes when this happened he was able to push the horrible memories away. Then sometimes he couldn't. Sometimes he would tremble and shake as the memories caught hold of him and trapped him in the past; trapped him in a waking nightmare—sometimes about the human transmutation, sometimes about...

 

A sudden banging on the door broke the horrific spell. “Brother! You've been in there forever! What are you doing?”

 

Trembling and breathing hard, Ed glanced up at the mirror and saw he'd gone pale. Little beads of sweat clung to his forehead, then one trickled down his face.

 

“Brother?” he heard Al inquire again.

 

“I'm fine, Al. Jeez, can't a guy take a dump in peace?” he returned, not able to think of a better excuse. Ed heard his brother mutter something before walking away. He glanced down at himself to see that he'd gone soft again. How long had he been in there?

 

Blowing out his breath, Ed began to fondle himself again, this time trying to think of the most arousing things he could think of. This not only helped him get hard again, but it worked to keep some of the unpleasant thoughts away.

 

Swallowing hard, Ed began to run his automail hand slowly along his length, then gently touched his finger to his opening. Ed slowly pressed his slick finger in a little. His breathing was becoming shallow as he nervously slid the finger in deeper. Relax... he thought to himself when he felt his muscles contract. He tried to concentrate on what his automail hand was doing, but he was vividly aware of what his real hand was doing as well.

 

With an effort, Ed forced his body to relax. For some reason, not having Mustang there made all the difference. Feeling rather embarrassed by what he was doing, Ed felt heat rise to his cheeks as he worked a second finger in. It was tight, but it wasn't as bad as he remembered it being.

 

His embarrassment at what he was trying turned into a vague sense of horror when he realized he liked what he was feeling. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was just supposed to be preparing himself for... Ed started moving his hips forward then back as he thrust himself forward, then impaled himself on the fingers.

 

Shakily, Ed worked yet another finger in. This was tighter, but it didn't feel unpleasant at all... it actually felt... Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out and looked down at himself. His body was desperately telling him it wanted relief, and it took all his will to pull up his pants and wash his hands.

 

This was his answer.

 

Now he could do it. He could act like he wanted it, because he did. Not exactly from Mustang, or from anyone, but he wanted it. All the blood in his body seemed to have gathered to his groin and he shivered, feeling a bit cold.

 

Ed pulled the door open and quickly walked to where his red coat was lying on one of the beds. “I'm going out,” he said hurriedly while doing up the buttons. He didn't want it to be too obvious that he had a raging hard on beneath his pants.

 

Al looked up from the book he had been reading and said in alarm, “What? You're going out? But, you didn't want to go out earlier…”

 

“I know. I just...” Now. He needed to go now while he was still aroused. “Sorry, I just gotta go.” And with that he rushed out the door.

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Ed pulled open the door to the apartment building and noticed that for once the foyer was empty. Well, he was pretty early. Probably the creepy old guys would be there when he left…

 

Turning his attention away from the rickety, old table, Ed bounded up the stairs two at a time. When he reached Mustang's door, the teen refrained from pounding on it and instead knocked softly.

 

He heard the chain being rattled, then the deadbolt undone, before the door opened with a puzzled looking Mustang glancing down at him. “You're early…”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Ed said, his breathing still a little heavy from the rush to get there.

 

“You're early by a couple hours,” the colonel said, still staring down at him.

 

“What does that matter? I'm here, so let me in,” he said hurriedly. Now. He was ready now, dammit. He just wanted to do this before his courage ran out.

 

“Are you alright?” Mustang asked, suddenly looking a bit concerned.

 

Ed widened his eyes in irritation. Normally it would kind of make Ed feel a little good, knowing that Mustang was concerned over his well being, but right now it only increased his frustration.

 

“Yes, I'm fine!” he growled. “Now are you going to let me in or are you going to make me stand out here all day?”

 

Shrugging, Mustang opened the door wider and let him inside. Instantly, Ed was fumbling at the buttons on his coat to take it off.

 

“Coffee?” the colonel offered automatically.

 

Ed nodded, still working on the buttons. Gone were the days of hot chocolate. He hadn't liked coffee at first, but when he saw that it did wonders for his ability to stay up late as well as being able to wake up in the morning, well... he'd definitely say he was officially addicted to it.

 

Slamming the red coat down on one of the hooks, Ed shakily began undoing his jacket. Nervousness and being horny just did not go together, he decided. He took a deep breath, then turned around and stared hard at Mustang's back.

 

The colonel, for his part, seemed oblivious to him as he poured the coffee and added in the amount of cream and sugar that Ed liked. Ed wondered if he should get completely naked. That was definitely something he never did on his own volition. It might be more than what was needed, but Ed wanted to be sure it was enough.

 

Quickly, Ed pulled his boots off and stripped out of his clothes, then walked over to the couch. Instead of sitting down, he stood there and folded his arms, waiting for Mustang to notice him.

 

Mustang put the cream in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer for himself. As the man walked back to the counter to get Ed's coffee, he looked over to where Ed was standing and began to look back at the cup, but did a double take, nearly dropping the beer.

 

Ed's skin prickled and he suddenly seemed aware of how utterly exposed he was. He resisted the urge to run back to his clothes and put them on. He had to do this. The colonel raked his eyes over Ed's body, taking an extra long look at his groin before he picked the cup up and walked over to where Ed was standing.

 

“Well, I wasn't expecting that,” the man murmured as he handed the cup to Ed.

 

“You said be ready,” he said stubbornly. “I want that information. You'd better not hold it back when we're done,” Ed warned angrily.

 

Mustang took a sip from the bottle, then said mildly, “I don't want you to act like that. I want you to act lustful, not angry.”

 

With an effort, Ed changed his features to something he though might work, then took a sip of the coffee before setting it down on the end table and unbuttoning the colonel's shirt. “Okay, then,” Ed said as pleasantly as he could muster. “Let's begin.”

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

Ed's thumb slipped as he tried to depress the button on his pocket watch. Swearing, he tried again, and finally got his sweaty thumb to stay long enough to press down.

 

Three hours.

 

He'd been there three hours, doing this and that, everything but what he'd thought they'd be doing. The colonel had started out with putting one finger inside of him, then they'd done something else, then back to putting fingers in Ed's ass. It had been going on like that the whole time, and Ed could definitely say he was quite stretched out. He dropped the watch on his clothes and made his way back to the couch where Mustang was sitting with a bottle of lube.

 

“I think you know what I want,” the colonel said breathily.

 

Oh, yes, Ed knew what he wanted and he was loath to do it. Unfortunately, he was also eager as hell. He hadn't gotten release once since he'd come here, Mustang had made sure of it, and his body was screaming for it. Nervously, Ed got down on his hands and knees. He hung his head and bit his lip when he felt fingers slide eagerly into him. It was different when it wasn't his own, but it wasn't bad... not nearly as bad as it had been in the past.

 

One, then two, then three...

 

Mustang's other hand snaked around to his erection and fondled him gently. When the fingers pulled out, and the head of the colonel's penis touched his opening, Ed desperately tried to remain relaxed, tried to focus on the pleasure. If he tensed, he knew it would hurt, and perhaps he deserved the pain, but he just didn't think he could handle that again... Besides, Mustang wanted him to want it. That was part of their deal, and Ed needed that information.

 

Slowly, the man pushed the tip in, then moved back a little before pushing in a little deeper. It was so different from that night. He felt Mustang's sex push past the first ring of muscle, then pull back a little before pushing in again. With a savage need, Ed bucked his hips, first thrusting into the colonel's hand, then impaling himself on the rest of the man's length.

 

He sucked air in between his teeth sharply at the slight sting it produced, but when he thrust forward and back again, it was better, easier to handle. Again and again he moved his hips, and he felt Mustang's other arm wrap around him, pressing their bodies together as they moved. Need was driving him and he moaned at the double stimulation of the moment.

 

“Tell me to fuck you,” he heard Mustang whisper breathily in his ear.

 

“Fuck me!” Ed moaned shamelessly, then added, “Harder, fuck me harder! I need it! Please!”

 

He groaned loudly as Mustang obliged him, then suddenly climaxed hard, thrusting one last time in the man's palm before halfway collapsing on the floor. The colonel kept him on his knees for several more moments until he climaxed as well.

 

They stayed that way, Ed kneeling on the floor with Mustang kneeling behind him with his cock shoved up Ed's ass, for almost a minute. As the seconds stretched on, Ed felt tears come to his eyes and a sense of sick humiliation slowly filled him.

 

He'd done it.

 

He'd been everything the man had wanted him to be. He'd asked for it, screamed for it, begged for it, done everything that had been asked of him—he'd even enjoyed it. But now that it was over, his mind seemed to be working again and he pressed his face against the thin carpet. Squeezing his eyes shut, Ed felt two fat tears run down his face before dropping onto the floor. He thought he'd be sick... truly, he'd never felt so ashamed and dirty...

 

“Tell me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Tell me where Marcoh is.”

 

Sighing, Mustang quickly gave Ed the man's whereabouts, then pulled out. Ed crawled to where the colonel kept his dirty laundry and fished a towel out to clean up, then made his way over to his clothes. He kept his face turned away from the colonel. He didn't want to see him, didn't want to see the man looking at him. He dressed quickly, trying to push the feelings of worthlessness and disgust aside.

 

Anger.

 

Anger filled him and he welcomed it gladly.

 

Anger at Mustang, anger at himself, anger at what they'd just done, and anger that he'd found pleasure in it... It felt better to be angry; it didn't hurt quite as bad. After putting his jacket on, Ed yanked his coat off the rack and turned the door knob.

 

“You can stay for a while longer, you know,” Mustang said languidly. This only added fuel to his inner fire and he yanked the door open.

 

“Fuck you,” Ed growled, then slammed the door shut behind him.

 

He stalked down the stairs and stopped for a moment when he saw the men sitting at the table, drinking and playing cards like usual. When they saw him, the taunts started up. This, too, added to his anger. He clapped his hands together and slapped them hard against the floor.

 

The men gasped and muttered at the light that his transmutation brought, but Ed ignored their astonishment. A torrent of emotions raged through him as the elements combined to create the weapon he desired.

 

When the transmutation was complete, Ed grabbed the spear roughly and turned to look hatefully at the men. The men shrank back from him, terror filling their eyes, but it wasn't enough. These men had found pleasure in tormenting him long enough. Ed took a step forward and swung the spear in their direction.

 

“Never talk to me again,” he spat fiercely. “Don't look at me; don't even speak in my presence! I have more power than all of you piss ants combined and I swear if you do anything to make me notice you, I'll slice off your balls with this spear and make you eat them! Then, after that, I'll transmute your cocks into something smaller than a bug's antenna!”

 

The men stared at him, shock and horror painted across their faces. When he didn't get an answer, Ed yelled, “Do you understand me?!” They nodded quickly, eager to please him in light of his angry threat.

 

Ed was so furious that he saw spots of white in his vision. Turning away from them, Ed shoved the door open and let himself out into the night. The cold air felt good against his flushed skin as he stalked angrily away from the building.

 

Why?

 

Why couldn't one of those men have been Mustang? Why couldn't he say something like that to him? Why was he doing this? Why had he done that? Ed quickly traveled down several blocks without even thinking of where he was going.

 

How could he let himself do that? How could Mustang want him to do that? How could he have enjoyed it? Especially that! Furious, Ed swung the spear around and smashed in a mailbox. The noise was loud in the silent night and a dog barked in the distance.

 

“Shut up!” he screamed at the dog, but the animal continued to bark.

 

Ed wildly swung the spear into a light post, causing the metal to dent slightly. A light came on from the house he was in front of and the door opened. “Hey, you, stop that before I call the police,” a man called out.

 

“Screw you and the police!” he raged, then savagely kicked the fence that was surrounding the house causing a few boards to fall to the ground. “I'll take you all on! The police don't have anything on me!”

 

When the man retreated back into his house, Ed continued down the sidewalk, kicking in a trashcan here, swinging the spear through some bushes there. He hated everything right now, and he had no desire to get rid of the anger that was consuming him. If it was gone, Ed knew he would cry. He would cry and he would hate himself even more than he did while he was angry because he would be weak. He would be crying like a little kid, and he wasn't a fucking kid anymore!

 

Ed violently kicked a street sign with his automail foot, bending the metal post at an odd angle. No, he wasn't a kid, not anymore, and he wouldn't let Mustang treat him like one! He wouldn't let the man use him like this! Why the hell was he letting him do this?

 

He told himself it was because of the information the man gave, and that he didn't want the colonel to tell about him and Alphonse, but he knew that was only a part of it. It was a new realization and it made him sick.

 

Some part of him, for some reason he didn't fully understand, wanted this. He wanted this because it was the only close attention he ever got from anyone even resembling a caregiver. He wanted it because Mustang had been the one to find them and offer Ed hope, and for some fucking strange reason he couldn't understand, he wanted the man to be pleased with what he did.

 

Maybe it was because he didn't have any living parents... he didn't know. All he knew was that he wanted Mustang to be proud of him the same way he wanted Izumi to be proud of him; the same way he would have wanted his mother to be proud of him.

 

He shook his head violently. Why! Why the hell did he care one shit what that bastard thought of him? Why did this have to happen? Why couldn't he be treated kindly for once in his life; not be smacked around by Izumi or be used by Mustang.

 

Why couldn't someone watch out for him? Al was there for him, he knew it, and he knew his younger brother cared for him, but it wasn't the same! Ed was still the older brother; still in the role of caregiver and protector. His brother could protect him from physical harm, but Ed couldn't—wouldn't—allow his younger brother to take care of him emotionally. He couldn't put that burden on him. It wouldn't be fair.

 

Ed let the spear head drop, and he lowered his head. Tears gathered in his eyes as he tried to make sense of all the confused and random thoughts running through his mind.

 

Was there no one who was willing to love him like a son properly? Did he miss his mother so badly that he was willing to take anyone for a substitute parent, no matter what they did to him? Was he so desperate for attention that he would allow himself to be used and abused like second-hand garbage? Ed felt his stomach twist inside and he felt nauseated at the thought. Suddenly, he rushed to one of the fences and threw up what he'd eaten for dinner. Again and again he retched, even after there was nothing left, his stomach still seeking to purge itself. Shakily, he ran his hand over his mouth and pushed himself up.

 

There was something wrong with him…

 

There had to be…

 

If there wasn't, then why...

 

Suddenly a vehicle turned onto the street, its lights shining brightly on him. The car pulled over onto the side of the road and two men in uniforms got out of the car.

 

“That's the one,” the first officer said.

 

“Okay kid,” the second one said, walking toward him with his gun raised, “Put down your weapon.”

 

My weapon? I am a weapon... Ed thought. Tiredness washed over him and his grip on the spear loosened. It slipped out of his hand and clanked noisily on the ground. A weapon... Just something to be used and then thrown away when I'm no longer useful... he thought dully. As the officers handcuffed him and led him to the car, Ed followed them along silently. His rage was spent, and now he only felt depressed and exhausted.

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

The sound of muffled voices alerted Ed that someone was approaching, but he continued to stare at the blank, concrete wall of the jail cell. A lock clicked beyond the bars of his cell and then the sound of a door opening met his ears.

 

“He's been rather quiet since we picked him up,” someone was saying.

 

A moment of silence then, “We'll take care of him now.”

 

Lieutenant Hawkeye.

 

“Well, that's just fine and dandy with me. I don't like keeping military personnel in here, especially State Alchemists. We really don't have the authority to do much since they fall under military law.”

 

The voices were coming closer, but still Ed didn't look up.

 

“You can be sure this will be taken care of,” said a tight voice.

 

Colonel Mustang…

 

He supposed he should care that the man was here, but he didn't. He couldn't work up the effort to care. Suddenly there was the sound of rattling bars behind him and a voice said, “Alright kid, your commanding officer is here to take ya out of here.”

 

Instead of responding, Ed just continued to sit where he was.

 

Why not?

 

What did anything matter?

 

The door clanged open and footsteps met his ears. Without warning he was pulled up and thrown against the wall. Roy Mustang's face was instantly in view and the man growled, “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

 

“Just thought I'd come and hang out here. You know, if you stay long enough they'll give you free food,” Ed said irritably. “So why don't you just get the fuck away from me and leave me here.”

 

Mustang's eyes narrowed and he slammed Ed up against the wall again. “Now you listen to me, you little—”

 

“Sir,” Hawkeye interrupted with a look of concern on her face.

 

“What is it, Lieutenant?” the man breathed tightly. He was obviously not pleased at being interrupted.

 

“I think you should let him go. I know you're upset, but this isn't going to help anything.”

 

Mustang glanced from his first lieutenant to Ed with a look of frustrated indecision, then roughly shoved him toward the door. “You're right,” he heard the colonel mutter, then, “Go on, Fullmetal. The car is waiting outside. You're being released into my custody for the night.”

 

Ed thought his heart would stop beating. Mustang's custody... for the night? Images of the night Mustang had forced him came to his mind and he began to shake with fear.

 

“Hell, no!” he shouted. “I'm not going anywhere with you!”

 

“I didn't ask to be dragged out of my apartment to take care of this mess!” the colonel shouted back.

 

Mustang was angry, Ed knew it... he knew that he was just making things worse, but he couldn't help it. His anger from earlier was ebbing back into him. He wanted to fight. It would be better than feeling sad, better than being afraid, better than letting the lieutenant suspect something was different, that something was wrong.

 

Ed opened his mouth to say something else, but at that moment Hawkeye stepped between them and said, “Edward, to the car now. Colonel...” She paused. Even though Ed outranked her, Hawkeye had no problems ordering him around when necessary. Mustang was a different story. She could push him to work, because it was something that the man had to do, but when it came right down to it, she had no authority where Mustang was concerned.

 

“With all due respect, I think it might be better if Edward came home with me tonight.”

 

Ed thought he would faint from relief.

 

“What?” the colonel asked, not looking too happy about the lieutenant's suggestion.

 

“Sir.” She walked over to him and lowered her voice, but Ed could still hear what she was saying. “Teenagers do stupid things, and we all know that Edward does some of the dumbest things a teenager could do, but you're so angry...” A look of concern crossed her face. “He's angry too, and I don't think putting the two of you together tonight will be good for either of you.” She sighed. “I know that you're worried about him, but I really think this would be best.”

 

Mustang ran a hand through his hair and glanced to where Ed was watching them. Hawkeye had a point, and Ed knew that the colonel knew this. If the man pushed to take him home, she might wonder.

 

“Okay. I understand,” Mustang conceded, though obviously unhappy about it.

 

“Good. Now, Edward and I are going to go. I'm sorry, but you'll have to walk home. I don't think putting the two of you in a confined space would be good for my health.”

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;

 

“Here are some blankets and sheets,” Hawkeye said, dumping a pile of bedding in Ed's arms. The fabric was soft and the light floral scent that lingered on them made him feel a little more at ease. “If you decide not to use the sheets, just put them over there.” The woman pointed at a small kitchen table. Ed nodded, but didn't say anything. In fact, he hadn't said anything since leaving the police station and the lieutenant hadn't tried to get him to talk either. He glanced around the small living room. Hawkeye's one bedroom apartment was small, but tidy and neat, and it was easy for him to feel at ease there.

 

“Have you eaten dinner?” she asked, and he looked back at her.

 

“I ate...” before I went to the colonel's house “...um, before I went out...” he replied.

 

She nodded slowly, then said, “I called your brother. He didn't sound too happy about what happened.”

 

Ed nodded. No, Al wouldn't be happy about it, and there would be a lot of questions when he was able to go home. He felt so guilty. Al didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to have such a fucked up brother who did such stupid things.

 

“Okay, well, if you don't need anything then I'm going to go to bed.” She waited for a moment, then turned to leave.

 

“Lieutenant,” Ed said quickly. She turned and looked at him, but didn't speak. “I... I just wanted to say `thanks'.”

 

“You're welcome, Edward,” she said in her brisk tone.

 

“No, really.” He swallowed hard, and blinked when tears suddenly stung his eyes. How could he make her understand how grateful he was that she took him in tonight without telling her everything? “I... I'm really grateful that you're letting me stay here. If you ever need anything from me, like help or information, just let me know. I owe you.”

 

More than you know.

 

Hawkeye gazed at him for a moment before her eyes softened and she smiled a small smile. “Well, thank you, though it's really not necessary.”

 

“It's just the only way I can thank you,” he murmured, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

 

She walked back toward him, and, without warning, wrapped her arms around him. “You can thank me by staying out of trouble,” she whispered and squeezed him. At first, he stiffened, both at the suddenness and also at the fact that the only flesh and blood person that ever hugged him anymore was the colonel—and that always lead to something else.

 

But he quickly relaxed into the embrace. It was a motherly hug, or the hug of an older sister. Ed sighed and rested his head against her shoulder, unable to return the hug because of the bedding in his arms. His eyes stung and one small tear escaped his eye. When Hawkeye pulled back, she looked at him closely before bringing her hand up and wiping the tear away.

 

“None of that, okay?”

 

He sniffed and nodded with an embarrassed smile.

 

“Now get some sleep,” she commanded in a tone that again made him think of a mother.

 

After she went to her bedroom, Ed set the sheets on the table. The blanket would be enough for him, and he didn't want to create any extra work for her. Turning off the light, he felt his way through the darkness and settled himself on the couch.

 

Moments later something small and furry crawled under the blanket, then onto the couch beside him. Ed smiled and let Black Hayate snuggle up beside him. It felt good to have the animal there. He wrapped his arm around the dog and let his mind wander in thought.

 

He meant what he'd said to Hawkeye. If she needed anything, anything at all, he would help her. He would tell her whatever she wanted to know, if she asked. Then the thought came to him.

 

What if she asked about him and Mustang?

 

Would he tell her?

 

Fear and shame washed over him, mixing with a sudden feeling of panic. Black Hayate lifted his head and gave a small whimper before licking Ed's face.

 

Yes, he decided. Yes, he would tell her. If she asked, if she really wanted to know, then he would tell her. But she wouldn't. No, Ed had no intention of giving her any reason to even think about asking.

 

He would find that man Marcoh. Ed knew he was the key to returning his brother back to his body. After that... well, after that they would leave. He would finally be able to get away from this hell that was his life. Maybe they'd go back to Rizembool and rebuild their house. They still owned the land there.

 

They'd get away from the military and he'd never look back. Al and he would finally be able to have a happy life, and he'd have no reason to think about all the shit Mustang had done to him.

 

He'd just be able to forget it all...

 

--

 

Child abuse, or any kind of abuse, is a serious issue. If you, or someone you know, is being abused, please find someone you can trust and tell them