Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ The Sound of Silence ❯ Revenge ( Chapter 13 )

 

 

The Sound of Silence

 

Chapter Twelve

 

Revenge

 

 

Ed looked up at the sky as he exited the apartment building. Dark clouds had started to move in and a low sound of distant thunder rumbled in the distance. A cool breeze ruffled his bangs, making them tickle his forehead, and Ed absentmindedly reached up and brushed at them.

 

“Looks like it's going to rain,” he mumbled to himself.

 

“Do you want me to go get the umbrella, brother?” Al asked, stepping out behind him. Ed looked down and stared at his brother. For himself, he'd just deal with any rain, but it was a rather cool autumn day and it might be too much for Al.

 

“Yeah, I think so,” he said, then added, “And go put on your coat instead of your jacket.” Better to be safe than sorry.

 

As the boy hurried off, Ed watched him with a melancholy feeling. He'd tried really hard in the last couple of months to be a better older brother—and things had improved some—but there were still times that he yelled at Al and others when he pushed his brother aside, trying to pretend he wasn't there.

 

A shiver ran through him, though whether it was from the wet breeze or from his thoughts, Ed didn't know. He knew how he acted toward Al was wrong, but what mattered most to Ed was that, except for that one night, he'd never done anything sexual to the boy and he'd never hit him. But he was still afraid, and always watchful.

 

Ed suddenly had the urge to go inside and get himself something to drink before he headed to Central Headquarters. It was always stressful going to headquarters, and there was always the chance that he could run into Mustang. He chewed lightly on his lip and tapped his fingers against the leg of his pants. He was so tempted, but he wouldn't.

 

Ed didn't hold his alcohol well at all, and, even if he had a small amount, it would be obvious that he'd been drinking. He sighed and leaned against the doorframe. This was one of those times that he regretted ever trying alcohol. It had probably been one of the stupidest things he'd ever done, and he'd done some pretty stupid things...

 

Running his fingers through his bangs again, Ed thought of the night he'd had his first beer, then scowled. One beer had been plenty to get him drunk, yet that bastard had given him another one—combined with something—just to be sure he wouldn't be able to fight back. Ed couldn't remember everything from that night, but he remembered going there, and remembered bits and pieces after that second beer. One of those pieces was him saying `no' and Mustang fucking him anyway.

 

Ed sighed heavily, remembering the morning after. It had been a terrifying experience. He'd woken up in Mustang's bed completely naked; that, in and of itself, had been frightening. He'd never spent the night at Mustang's place—ever. But he'd been so sick that he hadn't been able to really think about it for a while. He'd crawled to the bathroom and puked his guts out. Halfway through, he'd realized that someone was holding his hair, but it hadn't been important at the moment. Not until he felt that he could spend ten seconds away from the toilet did he think about who was behind him.

 

Mustang had urged him to go back to bed, and halfway there Ed realized that he'd never told Al he was leaving. Panicked, he'd tried to explain why he had to go as Mustang carried him the rest of the way to the bed. Cold fear had spread through him when Mustang told him that he'd already gone to check on Al and that he was fine, but he'd felt a little better when the colonel wryly told him that Al had refused to let him in so they'd ended up talking through the door.

 

Before passing out again, Ed had called Al and promised he would be home soon, but it hadn't been until that evening that Ed felt well enough to go anywhere; hadn't been until he was really aware of himself and his surroundings that he noticed the bruises and marks on his skin from whatever Mustang had done to him while he'd been unconscious.

 

Ed pulled out his watch and glanced at the time before looking down the hall. What was taking Al so long?

 

Stuffing the watch back in his pocket, Ed felt shame as he remembered going home that night. Al had been curled up in that black and red bedding, in the middle of his bed, and hugging Ed's pillow as he slept. When he'd gotten close, Ed had been able to see tearstains on the boy's cheeks, and his heart had felt as though someone was squeezing it tightly. It had been that experience that had really changed the way he dealt with Al. Sure, he'd wanted to change before, but that experience had taught him just how selfish he'd really been.

 

Al needed him. Ed was the only one that was even semi-familiar to his brother, and even then, he'd realized that his brother really didn't see him as his brother. He was the parent now. Al's brother, Al's friends, Al's life had all been taken from him. To Al, his brother was someone who was only a year older than him, not an eighteen-year-old. He was someone he could play with all day and giggle with at night until someone told them to go to sleep or they'd be separated.

 

Ed wasn't that person. That person had died long ago.

 

He looked up as a raindrop hit his cheek and was glad he'd sent Al back for the umbrella and also that he'd told Al to wear his coat. It would be too wet and cold for Al not to be protected. Turning his head, Ed saw Al close the door to their apartment and lock it before slowly starting down the hallway. He was dragging the umbrella behind him as he fiddled with the zipper on his coat, making Ed shake his head.

 

“Hurry up,” Ed called, feeling slightly impatient. He didn't really care about being late, but he wanted to get out of there before he caved in and got himself a drink.

 

Ed knew he drank too much, though he was too ashamed to admit it out loud. He wanted to lie to himself, say he could stop whenever he wanted, but as much as he thought it, he knew it was still a lie. He wanted to stop, wanted to very badly, but he couldn't, he didn't know how. Every day, he'd tell himself that today would be the day. Today he would stop wasting his money on alcohol. Today he wouldn't drink so much that he passed out. Today he wouldn't hide from his problems, and today he'd stop looking for answers at the bottom of a bottle.

 

In fact, he'd told himself that same thing just this morning, yet already he was thinking about the next drink. Really, he felt so pathetic. He should be able to have more self control than this.

 

“I can't get it to zip up,” Al whined.

 

Sighing in exasperation, Ed stepped inside the building. “Come here and I'll do it,” he growled. Al looked up at him with an unsure expression and Ed cringed inwardly when he realized the tone he'd used. Kneeling down, Ed fiddled with the zipper until it slid up, then said, trying not to sound irritated, “There we go.” He smiled at Al and the boy smiled back. “Good call on the umbrella, Al,” Ed praised, trying to make up for his earlier tone. He stood up, took the umbrella, and led Al out the door. When they were outside, Ed opened the umbrella, then looked down. “Stay close to me so you don't get wet, okay?”

 

A big smile spread on Al's face. He grabbed onto Ed's hand and scooted close. “Okay!”

 

Ed forced a smile, and fought the urge to push Al away. Instead, he slightly squeezed Al's hand, and started walking. “Maybe if we hurry at headquarters we can get some hot chocolate on our way back.”

 

“Great!” the boy exclaimed happily.

 

Ed's forced smile turned into a real half smile. Such a small thing, but Al seemed so happy over it. He nodded. Yeah, after he got all the stupid stuff done that he needed to do, then they'd go get something warm to drink; hot chocolate for Al, and coffee for him.

 

Ed's smile faded at the thought that he really didn't like hot chocolate much. He used to, but somewhere along the way he'd come to hate the stuff. He wasn't sure why. Shrugging, Ed pushed the thought out of his mind. It wasn't anything important anyway.

 

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

 

“What do you mean it's gone?” Ed yelled crossly.

 

Kain Fuery cringed and took a step back. “I'm sorry, sir. I think Falman took it somewhere.”

 

Ed stomped over to the master sergeant. He'd grown some over the past couple of years and was able to look Fuery in the eye without any problem, and he took full advantage of that by staring the man down.

 

“And where the hell is Falman?” Ed breathed out dangerously.

 

The timid man took a step back and held out his hands in a pleading gesture. “I don't know, sir. I'm sorry; I think Lieutenant Havoc knows.”

 

“Well, then go find his cancerous ass and get him down here!” Ed barked.

 

“Yes, sir!” Fuery cried, giving a hasty salute.

 

Ed glanced over to where Al was huddled in the corner of the research room, trying to hide himself from his brother's rage. Looking back at Fuery, Ed said, “And take Al with you.” He didn't want to chance taking out his frustration on his brother.

 

“Uh, yes, sir,” the master sergeant said hesitantly. Turning, he gave the boy a small smile and said kindly, “You want to help me find Lieutenant Havoc?” Al glanced warily at Ed before nodding and cautiously making his way to the sergeant's outstretched hand.

 

After they left, Ed angrily began going through the other books and the folders that were on the table. That one damn book had been extremely important and he needed it back. Ed rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling the urge to get as drunk as possible. His hands shook and he had to press them against the table.

 

I should have had a drink before I came, he thought anxiously. I would have been a lot calmer. But he hadn't had that drink, and he wasn't calmer.

 

Suddenly, Havoc strode into the room with Fuery scrambling behind him. “Something you wanted, sir?” Havoc asked flatly. At the look on the man's face and at his tone, Ed scowled. Mustang's other staff may not like it, but he did outrank them.

 

“Where the fuck is Falman?” Ed asked irritably.

 

“What do I look like? A babysitter?”

 

At Havoc's condescending tone, Ed's scowl deepened. “That's not a proper tone to use with your superior officer, Lieutenant.”

 

“Excuse me, sir, but I don't like your tone either.” This was said politely, but there was a definite note of anger in it.

 

Ed ground his teeth together. Mustang might put up with such flippancy, but he sure the hell wasn't in the mood to do so. Raising his voice, Ed started to lay into the lieutenant, then stopped cold. Blinking, Ed glanced around, then said in confusion, “Where's Al?”

 

The two other men looked at each other, and Ed wondered vaguely if it was because of his question or because of the sudden change in him, but it wasn't important enough to dwell on. They looked back at him and Fuery said, “I left him with the colonel, sir.”

 

At that, Ed felt all the blood drain from his face. “You left my brother with that pervert?” he asked slowly.

 

Havoc rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, chief, it's only women who aren't safe from him.”

 

Ed ignored the flippant comment and rushed past them. Running down the hall, Ed hurried towards Mustang's office. He'd normally be upset about his brother being left with the man even if there were other people around, but Hawkeye was attending meetings all afternoon, which meant that no one else was around Mustang's office today.

 

At that thought he sped up, pushing people out of his way in his haste. Reaching the office door, Ed grabbed the handle and tried to turn it, but it was locked. Well, fuck that. Ed turned it with his automail hand and quickly broke the lock mechanism in the knob before throwing it open.

 

Breathing heavily, Ed stared at the scene before him with rising fury. Mustang was sitting on one of his couches with his arms around his brother; one hand on Al's stomach, the other on one of the boy's legs. They were both looking up at him; surprise, fear, and a little embarrassment on Al's face; a bland thoughtfulness on Mustang's.

 

“Al...” Ed said through panting breaths, then stomped over and pulled his brother off of the man's lap. Quickly, he dragged the boy to the door and pushed him out. “Stay out there and don't come in, okay?” he said as calmly as he could. Al nodded while rubbing the arm that Ed had been gripping. With that, Ed slammed the door shut and turned around to face the now standing man. “You...” Ed breathed dangerously, and walked toward the colonel. “What the hell were you doing?”

 

Looking unconcerned, Mustang shrugged. “Your brother was very upset at your unprofessional behavior. I was simply trying to calm him down.” He paused, then said, “I don't appreciate you yelling at my staff.”

 

Ed's eyes narrowed. He could imagine just how Mustang was calming Al down. Ignoring the colonel's attempt to put the focus somewhere else, Ed folded his arms and growled, “Stay away from my brother. Never touch him again; never even look at him again.”

 

Mustang walked to his desk, turned around, and leaned against it while staring at Ed. “You're being unreasonable,” he said flatly. “I think you should calm down.”

 

“I am calm,” Ed said tightly in an effort to keep his anger under control. What he really wanted to do right now was slam Mustang's face into the desk a few times, but he was refraining. In Ed's view that definitely qualified as calm.

 

Mustang eyed him thoughtfully before pulling a small hip flask out of one of his pockets. He looked pointedly at Ed and lifted the thin, metal flask where he could get a good look at it. “Have a drink, Ed. It will make you feel better.”

 

Ed eyed the flask guardedly and licked his lips. His mouth started to water slightly and the sheer need to have what was in that flask almost overwhelmed him. Closing his eyes, Ed took a deep breath. It was always like this. Mustang always knew. He always tried to change the subject. He always...

 

“I don't want it,” Ed lied in a soft breathy voice, then opened his eyes. His palms were sweating and he tightened them into fists to keep them from shaking.

 

A small smile formed on Mustang's face as he unscrewed the lid from the flask and took a drink. He raised an eyebrow at Ed before saying quietly, “You're lying.”

 

Ed swallowed hard, but said nothing until finally Mustang pushed away from the desk and walked toward him. When he was close, Mustang leaned down a little and pressed his lips against Ed's. Ed tried to pull away, but the colonel grabbed the back of his head to hold him there while he pushed his tongue into his mouth.

 

The taste of the liquor Mustang had just drunk flared the need for a drink even more, and when the colonel pulled away, Ed grabbed the flask from Mustang's hands. Taking a drink, Ed coughed a little as the hard liquor burned his throat. He brought the flask to his lips again, but Mustang relieved him of it before he could take another drink.

 

“You don't want to get drunk here, do you?” Mustang asked with a smirk as he replaced the lid and tucked the flask away.

 

“I wouldn't have gotten drunk,” Ed protested weakly, though he knew that was a lie. His tolerance level didn't allow him to drink much hard liquor. Still though, he didn't fell like he'd gotten enough. If only he could have had one more swallow.

 

The colonel slipped his gloves off and tucked them into another pocket. “You don't know how to quit, Ed,” the colonel whispered as he stepped closer to Ed and wrapped his arms around him.

 

Ed squirmed a little in his grasp, then looked at the door, remembering why he was here in the first place. “Stop it!” he hissed as Mustang reached down to fondle him.

 

“No one is going to come in,” the colonel murmured against Ed's neck. The man wasn't listening to him. He never listened. Ed pressed his lips together and decided that he'd just have to find a way to make Mustang listen.

 

“Al...” Ed started, intent on making Mustang promise to stay away from his brother.

 

“...won't come in because you told him not to. Your brother does what you tell him to, doesn't he?” Mustang said, and Ed could hear the sexual innuendo in the question.

 

“I don't tell him to do anything like that,” Ed growled furiously.

 

“But you could,” Mustang suggested, then thrust his hips forward to rub his crotch against Ed.

 

Ed swallowed hard and gritted his teeth as the colonel continued to touch him and rub against him. He knew it was only a matter of time before Mustang unzipped his pants and demanded something from him; a blowjob, or at the very least a hand job. Yet it wasn't that realization that made him sick to his stomach, it was the knowledge that Mustang was trying to convince him to do this same thing to Al. And, in the end, to convince Ed to let Mustang do this to Al too. His body felt cold as he realized that over the years Mustang had gotten whatever he wanted from Ed. He'd always broken down in the end... always given in...

 

Mustang pulled his head back a little and looked into Ed's eyes, before leaning in close and licking Ed's lips. “Kiss me, Ed,” he whispered. Ed narrowed his eyes and searched Mustang's face for a moment before sighing and doing what he was told. He always did what he was told, didn't he? Suddenly, Ed felt very tired. When had he lost his pride? When had he lost himself to this? When had he given up? When had he let Mustang start using him as his own personal fuck toy?

 

He didn't know.

 

What he did know was that he couldn't let Mustang push him into involving Al. He wanted better for his brother. Al deserved better. Ed would make sure Al had better.

 

Feeling desperate to make him listen, Ed reached up, wrapped his arms around the colonel's body, and slid his hands down the man's back as he rocked his hips against Mustang's. He didn't know if this would work, but he needed to try. When his fingers met the holster of Mustang's gun, Ed quickly undid the clasp and pulled the pistol out before stepping away.

 

Breathing hard, Ed raised the gun and took another step back. “Put your hands where I can see them.”

 

“Ed,” Mustang said with a half grin. “What do you think you're—”

 

“Now!” he yelled sharply.

 

Still wearing that damn half grin, Mustang drawled, “If this is some sort of kink, I don't—”

 

Ed narrowed his eyes and undid the safety before growling, “Hands... now...” He wasn't really going to shoot, but he wanted Mustang to know that he was serious about being heard.

 

The grin slipped a little and Mustang slowly lifted his hands. Quirking an eyebrow, the colonel said, “Anything else?” Ed pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nose. Mustang wasn't taking this seriously; wasn't taking him seriously.

 

“I want you to stay away from my brother,” Ed breathed out slowly. His body began to shake and he had to tighten his grip on the gun. The last time he'd seriously told Mustang to not do something, he'd ended up being beaten and raped, but this was different. This time Mustang didn't have anything to hold over him. This time Ed was older and more weathered. This time he was saying `no' for Al.

 

This time was going to be different.

 

“Ed, don't be ridiculous, I—”

 

“—won't do to him what you did to me,” Ed finished. “I won't let you ruin his life!”

 

Mustang smirked. “I don't know what you're talking about. You wanted it. You always said you did, and you enjoyed it.”

 

“Shut up!” Ed yelled angrily. “Just shut the fuck up!” He knew Mustang was provoking him, but it was hard to keep in the fury that was eating him up inside. Mustang was trying to turn this in another direction. He always did that! Why couldn't he just listen for once? Ed wanted to continue telling him to stay away from Al, but he couldn't go back to that without defending himself. “I never wanted it! I hated it. I only said those things because you made me!”

 

The colonel made an exaggerated shrug and said, “I don't see how I could possibly make you say anything. You're the one who opened your mouth and let the words out. If you didn't mean them, then you shouldn't have said them.”

 

Ed's eyes widened in shock and he couldn't seem to get enough breath. He could only stare at the colonel in disbelief. How could he say that? How? Yes, it was true that Ed could have not said them, but then the colonel would do things or say things to him that made him feel like shit. It was just better to say them, but...

 

“You... I...” he stuttered, starting to feel confused. Could he really have not said those things? Had he really had the choice? Had he actually meant them? NO! Of course he hadn't! But... He... Mustang... Ed shook his head, trying to clear the disorder in his mind, then cried, “You're the one who came to me!”

 

“It was your fault, Ed,” Mustang returned seriously, no longer grinning. He started to fold his arms, but stopped when Ed lifted the gun higher.

 

“How can you say that?” Ed asked shakily. He didn't want to believe it, but somewhere inside of him was a small child that did believe, and he felt guilty and dirty. He blinked, trying to get the tears that were now threatening to go away. “I don't under... I... Why? Why me?”

 

Mustang stared at him for a moment before saying, “You acted like you wanted my attention. If it wasn't for that I never would have approached you, so you see, this isn't my fault. I was just trying to help you.”

 

“I... I never wanted that attention!” Ed cried in disbelief, trying desperately to remember how it had all started. Had he wanted Mustang's attention? He couldn't even remember! It was only six years ago, yet Ed couldn't remember how it had even come to this. “Why!?” he yelled, shaking the gun at the man. “How... How could you do that to me?”

 

Mustang eyed him for a moment, then said in a calm, serious voice, “Ed, put the gun down. You're overreacting.” The colonel paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft and held a calm tone that was threaded with emotion. “I care for you. I always have. I've treated you like my own son. If I didn't care for you, do you think I would have tried to help you so much?”

 

Ed's eyes widened in wounded shock. Mustang cared for him?! “That's bullshit!” he shouted in hurt disbelief. He couldn't believe Mustang would say that! “Fathers don't do things like that to their kids.”

 

The colonel was silent for a moment, and his eyes took on a slightly injured and far away look before he murmured, “Well... if it makes you feel better thinking that, then go ahead.”

 

Hurt and anger mixed together inside of him and he just wanted to run away. He'd known for a while that he actually cared what Mustang thought of him; that in some fucked up way, he'd actually seen the man in some sort of role that mattered—perhaps even in some sort of parental role—and he'd hated it. Unaware of the tears in his eyes now, Ed shook his head.

 

“You never cared for me...” It hurt to think that Mustang actually did care for him... it hurt in two very opposite ways. The first being that he hated the bastard and didn't want to think the man had any sort of heart. The second being that Mustang had been the main adult in his life, and to suddenly be told that this adult—someone who had done so many terrible things to him—actually cared... It was just too much... It hurt too much...

 

Mustang studied him with a grave look in his eyes, then said quietly, “I did... I do care...”

 

“How can you say that when you did all those things to me!?” Ed cried, not registering the tears trickling down his cheeks. He didn't want to believe it! But... he cared for Al... and he treated his brother badly at times even though he knew it was wrong. He would yell at him, ignore him, or get way too drunk even though he knew he shouldn't—even though he knew it hurt his brother...

 

A sob broke from him and he said, “I don't want you to care about me.” He didn't. He wanted to believe the colonel was a heartless bastard who was only using him for his own pleasure. Only... he did want to believe. He still wanted someone to care for him and protect him and... But Mustang had never protected him, he thought, desperately trying to argue with himself. Instantly his mind conjured up memories of when the colonel had covered something up for him, or done things when payment hadn't been asked for. He was just so confused! He didn't know what to think! Why was this happening to him right now, of all times? Why? Why?! Why?!

 

To that, Mustang said nothing, simply watched as Ed bawled like a child in front of him for a moment before letting one of his upraised hands move forward, reaching out to Ed. “Ed...” Mustang pleaded softly. “Just put the gun down, alright?”

 

“No...” Ed moaned through his tears. He couldn't put it down. He had to protect his brother. He had to make Mustang listen to him.

 

“Edward,” Mustang whispered, then held both hands out as if to invite him in for a hug. “Come here. I know you don't really want to hurt anyone.” His voice was low and cautious, yet sounding so kind and understanding. “Just put the gun down, and we'll talk about it, okay?”

 

The man started to take a step forward, but stopped when Ed yelled, “Stop!” and shook the gun at him.

 

The desire to give in and put the gun down almost overwhelmed him, but he just couldn't... Maybe the man did care for him... perhaps... but he didn't want to think about that right now. It was all just too much... He needed to protect Al, and, for this once, he wasn't going to let his brother down. Ed knew he was a failure as a brother and as a human being, but if he could at least protect Al from this, if he could at least convince Mustang to leave Al alone...

 

“We are not going to talk anymore,” Ed said through his tears. “I am going to talk, and you are going to listen.”

 

“Ed...”

 

“NO! You're doing it again!”

 

Mustang turned his head slightly and gave him a sideways look. “I don't know what you're—” he began cautiously, but Ed interrupted him.

 

“You're interrupting me! You always interrupt me! You never listen to me! Not ever! Whenever I try to talk about something you don't want to hear you just change the subject!”

 

“Ed—” Mustang began again, but never got a chance to finish.

 

“SHUT UP!” Ed screamed and tightened his grip on the gun, ultimately pulling the trigger. He fell back a step as the gun bucked in his hands. Mustang's eyes widened in shock and he brought a hand to his chest where blood was beginning to soak his uniform.

 

Ed's sobbing cut off sharply as he stared in shock at the man in front of him. Mustang pulled his hand away from his chest and stared at the blood for a moment, then returned the hand and looked painfully at Ed.

 

“You... You really shot me...” Mustang breathed out in stunned surprise.

 

Ed's body shuddered from his previous crying and he felt a numb feeling spread through his body. He'd done it... He'd shot Mustang... He hadn't meant to, had only wanted to get Mustang's attention—to convince him...

 

He wanted to feel regret, but as he searched for emotion inside of himself, he felt nothing but the desire to pull the trigger again. And then it came to him. This was the answer. Mustang would never talk him into anything again because he'd never talk again at all.

 

“You may care for me,” he whispered shakily, then tightened his finger on the trigger. “But I don't care for you.” He didn't. Really, he didn't. He hated him. That was all he felt for him. He tried to convince himself that he'd never cared what Mustang thought of him, but he knew it was a lie. Deep down inside, he knew he did care because in Mustang's own way, he had taken care of him. There had been times that Mustang had been kind and caring to him, and had done things for him without asking for anything in return. But right now none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was protecting Al.

 

He would do anything for Al.

 

Anything.

 

Mustang blinked his eyes causing a tear from each to trickle onto his cheeks. “Ed...” he whispered shakily.

 

Ed pulled the trigger and again the gun bucked in his hand, but this time he was ready for it and held his ground. The colonel jerked violently and another blossom of red appeared on the chest of his uniform.

 

Pressing his lips together, a feeling of cold nothingness filling him, Ed stepped forward as the colonel fell heavily to his knees. Ed blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his vision of tears. Why were there tears? He just didn't understand...

 

Pressing the gun against Mustang's forehead, Ed said shakily, “I just wanted you to leave me alone...”

 

“Ed...” Mustang breathed, then coughed blood. Red dribbled from the corner of the colonel's mouth as he struggled to speak. “I really did care...”

 

Ed's face crumpled painfully and hot tears spilled from his eyes. His chest burned and felt tight, making it difficult to breathe. Ed shook his head violently and pressed the gun even harder against Mustang's forehead.

 

The sound of a door opening sounded far away in his ears and he heard, “Brother!!” but he paid it no mind. That wasn't important. His mind was a swirl of confusion and hurt. If Mustang really did care, then why would he have done all of that? WHY?! Bracing himself against the expected bucking of the gun, Ed fired again, sending a bullet through the colonel's skull.

 

Blood squirted and gushed from the wound; some getting onto Ed, some running down Mustang's face. The man's eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell onto his back. There was screaming and sobbing in the background, but Ed still ignored it and stepped over the man. Sobbing, Ed fired again.

 

You never cared about me! he thought desperately. There was no way! NO WAY! His thoughts were going wild and he couldn't stop them. Nothing made sense and he felt as though something inside of him was clawing to get out, something that had been there for a long time.

 

“What's going... Oh my... Ed!”

 

He only heard the voices and shouts, but didn't register them. The only thing that existed was this. Now. But this wasn't now... He didn't even know what this was... Ed squeezed the trigger again.

 

I don't care about you! he cried mentally, trying to convince himself.

 

“Fuery! Take care of Al!”

 

Ed shot again and again, not registering the commotion around him. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and a hand on his hands. “Chief... He's dead...” Still Ed continued squeezing the trigger, then suddenly realized the gun was empty and he hadn't been shooting anything.

 

Ed dropped the gun and fell to his knees. Crying hysterically now, he crawled onto Mustang's dead body and started punching him viciously in the face with his automail fist. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” he screamed over and over again, as if this would somehow make all the years of hurt go away.

 

Suddenly arms were threaded under his and he felt himself being pulled away. “That's enough! He's already dead!” a voice yelled.

 

“No!” he shrieked hysterically. “It's not enough! Let me go! Al! Help me! Al!” he cried, not thinking of his brother as the small child he was now, but as the large and powerful suit of armor he had been.

 

He was thrashing around, trying to get free, when suddenly he was flipped over onto his stomach and weight pressed down on him. “Fuery, leave him for a moment and go get security! I don't know if I can hold him!”

 

Ed screamed loudly, trying to free himself. His mind didn't comprehend that across the room Mustang was dead. Instead, he felt as though it was the colonel on top of him, holding him down, and that he was going to get it again. Mustang was going to throw him over his desk and force him again, and again, and again, and...

 

“Al!” Ed screamed, thrashing wildly. “Al, help me! Don't let him do this to me!”

 

“Calm down!” was bellowed into his ear by a deep male voice, but he couldn't. He was too terrified.

 

“No!” he pleaded through heavy sobs. “Please don't! I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Please don't hurt me! Don't do it again! I'll be good!”

 

A loud scream joined with his from far away and he heard, “Stop it! You're hurting him!”

 

“Al, stay over there!” the deep voice commanded.

 

Al... He had to protect Al! He had to get away! Mustang was going to hurt him again! But if he didn't let him, then he couldn't help Al! It seemed as though a million thoughts were attacking him at once, and Ed couldn't make sense of any of them. He just wanted to get away. He just wanted to be safe! He didn't want to hurt anymore.

 

The sound of a door crashing in sounded over his screaming, and then there were the footfalls of many people running into the room. There were deep voices, many of them radiating shock at something. Panic rushed through him and he tried even more desperately to get away. It was those men! Mustang had called those men from the foyer up and they were going to take turns with him!

 

He could hear the sound of a child wailing, but by this time he couldn't even let that sink into his head. He had to get away! It was just too much! He couldn't let Mustang force him again; couldn't let those men do him. A primal scream escaped him as more hands held him down. His automail fingers ripped the carpet in his attempt to get free, and he cried desperately for Al to come save him; because, of course, Al would always be there for him. He'd protect him! He would!

 

Suddenly a needle pricked his skin and he heard someone say, “That should take effect in about ten seconds.” Ed felt his body begin to feel numb and tingly, and his brain was telling him that it needed to sleep. Realizing this was his escape, Ed gave up the fight and let the darkness overtake him.

 

--

 

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