Categories > Anime/Manga > Full Metal Alchemist > Pains of War

III

by Roy-Fan-33 0 Reviews

Edward must break himself and his cargo safly from the enmy base, but not without injury and Mustang attempts to deal with the reality he's been given. [+ Bonus Material]

Category: Full Metal Alchemist - Rating: R - Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama - Characters: Edward Elric, Roy Mustang - Warnings: [!!] [R] [V] - Published: 2006/12/19 - Updated: 2006/12/20 - 4166 words

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Disclaimer: You love FMA, I do too, Me no own, so you no sue. (I do, however own the plot, so no stealing!)


/Italics/ are dream sequence and thoughts. They alternate but are obvious to tell apart.



OOooOOooOO



Ed's world stopped turning for a moment as he stared down at the sunken face of Roy, who lay still except for the shuddering rise and fall of his chest. The musty smell that had been bothering him the entire mission while inside the building faded away, and he couldn't seem to feel the warmth of the body he was holding onto, if there was any warmth to feel. But Roy was there, and he was breathing, which meant he was /alive/. Edward quickly checked the man out, from head to toe, finding deep lacerations that scared his chest and back, bruising that could be found on every inch on the man's body, and most troubling of all, burn marks that littered his back, the worst one of them, a three inch round brand, half hidden by the scraps of his pants and a circular burn wrapping around his right hip and thigh. He could only make out the top of some numbers or possible letters on the brand from the Roy's back. Ed bit down on his tongue, forcing himself to be even more gentle as he ran his hand over Roy's side, where the skin was deformed from broken ribs. Edward quickly clarified that the labored breath must be from that specific wound.


/They really beat the shit out of him.../


Ed would die if Roy woke up to see him carrying him bridal style, so shoulder it was. In a fluster, he pulled Roy up off the ground, and threw him over his injured shoulder, he would need his uninjured arm to hold his gun, should it be necessary (as clapping and transmuting could be difficult when carrying a body). Roy was light enough to carry with only one arm for support, which was slung over Roy's waist, so Ed's other hand was free for his gun. And so, with his fallen comrade thrown over him, legs dangling limp in front of the youths chest, Edward took off, and was out the cell door in a flash of dulled color.


He had three minutes, and only three, to get Roy and himself back over that hill to the transport, or his squad would leave without him, and Roy would die. Edward's stomach lurched uncomfortably as he raced his way through the hallways, jumping over dead bodies. It was a terrible sight, so many dead men, but at least they weren't his comrades. One of the dead men looked vaguely familiar to Ed. He didn't have the time to think over it.


"How did Roy ever do this..." Ed asked himself quietly, eyes narrowed as he streaked past yet another body.


It never really occurred to the younger alchemist how bad war really was. He had always thought he could deal with it, and that Roy was just bad at coping. Compared to Hughes, Roy had taken everything horribly, and in Ed's eyes, Roy was already a horrible person, so his attitude was a given.


Yes, Ed did know about Roy's drinking habits during the war, and he would never forget that the man he was saving was the one who brutally murdered Whinry's parents, but he always thought that war was simple, something he could deal with. The entire premises of war was going back to the basic instincts of man, to fight to survive and maintain territory, but it was far from simple. You are ordered to do something, and you do it with style, plain and simple, just not so plain, and no where near simple... It's just like the novels, except in the end, you don't come out the wise and strong hero.


But wasn't Roy considered a war hero?


Ed cursed his thoughts, war wasn't like that at all, it was just a good way to cover up mass murder. Murder, something Ed strongly dissented, and swore he would never do...


Edward shook his head, clearing his mind momentarily. It was not the time for such trivialities.


The alarm was still ringing in the background as Ed passed another demolished hallway, and finally into a main room of the factory, where equipment had been moved out to make room for crates guns and ammunition. Ed was almost through the vast opening when he heard gunshots echoing from behind him, the bullets that followed after dug themselves into the floor beside Ed's feet. Edward spun around, brining his gun to the ready, and fired off three shots as soon as the form of his enemy came into sight, two pierced his target and the other ricocheted off the metal walls in the far distance. After a scream of agony, the man fell into his blood, dead. For a moment, Edward stood and stared at the body, his legs and mind frozen. He was such a god damn hypocrite.


When the thought of time slammed back into his mind, and of Roy on his shoulder, he was brought back to reality, and began his final sprint for the outside door. He kicked the half open door back with a clang, and then rushed into the biter cold air, sleet pelting his face. He shut his eyes tight as the biting wind chewed its way through his cloth, and streaking across his bare face. Slowly, he opened his amber eyes, and dread filled him. Edward was sure he was the single most unlucky person in the world. Surrounding him were, as Ed counted them, eleven rebels, all with their rifles pointing toward Roy and himself.


Dammit...


Several of the men murmured, and Ed knew at once they recognized him, which was not good. Alchemist got captured, and judging from Roy, Ed didn't think that was a good option for him...


"Put him down, slowly and put the gun down too, kid.." One of the men finally ordered, his voice harsh and demanding. He stepped toward Ed and away from the large group, motioning with his rifle to the ground. He was a large man, but had a face that gave him the look of a dumb person. Just another person following orders. Seemed to Ed the rebels were in the same boat as the rest of the world. Edward obliged, slowly bending over, his golden bangs hiding his smirk. First he threw down his gun. It slid across the ground and away from him, then he moved to set Roy down. Just as Roy's body grazed the frozen soil, Edward clapped his hands together and slammed them onto the ground, after a quick flash of light, and a quick scurrying of panicked men, four walls had surrounded all of the bumbling rebels, locking up the chaotic group.


"Peaceful solutions are the best solutions..." Ed chuckled lightly, bending back over Roy. The man had grown even more pale, and at the sight of the man's blanched face, Ed's paled considerably as well.


If I don't get him patched up soon he's gonna be in trouble, and if I don't get my ass over that hill...He's gonna die He's gonna die He's gonna die...


"ELRIC!" Armstrong yelled out, thundering toward Edward and waving his arms like a maniac. Ed turned to the man, just as the towering alchemist, panting, stopped beside him. After shoving his gun in his holster, Ed stood to his feet, and gave the man a questioning look. As though Armstrong had read his mind, he answered Edward's unspoken question. "The others have gone ahead. We thought you had already left..." Ed kicked himself mentally. In that oh-so-short time of mere seconds he had managed to forget the time yet again. Flustered, Ed started, his instincts taking over his thought process, his hand jerked up unceremoniously to his bleeding shoulder. Seems thoughts were only getting in his way as of lately.


"No time, grab Mustang!" Edward yelled, exasperated, nodding his head over to Roy, his hand too occupied with holding his wound to point. Alex stared down at the pained man a moment, unable to move, his eyes locked on the Flame. "Major!" Edward shouted again, already storming toward the hill. Snapped out of his trance, Armstrong grabbed Roy, and carrying him like a small child, followed Ed up the hill.


We've got him. He's alive. He's going to be okay... The canvas truck came into view and Ed forced his aching legs faster.


Edward heaved a pained sigh, grimacing as he clambered into the back floor of the covered truck bed. That hill had done him in for a good while, his muscles screaming in agony as he hobbled through the back of the canvas truck, toward one of the two remaining empty seats. There was the second truck that had been brought in for the PoW's, but it remained empty, and pulled past the parked one Ed had just entered, bumping on down the dirt road. The mud that caked the residing truck did not stand out much, seeing as the base color of the truck was already an ugly brown. Armstrong jumped in the truck shortly after Ed and by the time Edward had climbed into his seat, they were ready for evacuation. The troop was quiet as the engine started up, all with their eyes on Roy. Ed was almost tempted to tell them who it was, seeing as how they all held puzzled looks, but that's when Riza cried out in shock.


Through the now nearly-neck length hair, unshaven face, and scrawny complication, Riza finally saw the man for who he was.


The poor woman was shocked that she had not recognized Roy at once, but Ed wasn't all that surprised, and couldn't find it in himself to blame her, after all, he hadn't recognized the Colonel upon first sight. Several of the men, who knew nothing of the Colonel, tried to calm Riza, telling her it was no big deal.



Bad move... Ed thought, leaning from his seat to begin his work on Roy.


Riza cursed the men vehemently but never took her eyes of Roy as she began to check his condition. Meanwhile, Ed had climbed out of his seat was trying to tend to the random injuries Roy carried. Cuts, bruises, broken bones, burns... Edward's mind lit up as he remember the burn on the bottom of Roy's back. He proceeded to turned the man over, then pulled his shirt back, and the top of his pants down, so that the curious branding was obvious, ignoring the squabbling as best he could.



310


Edward, at best, decided that the brand had been a coding system, or something of the likes, but those numbers just didn't sit well with him...


"Edward!" Armstrong yelled suddenly, jerking Ed from his thoughts for a second time. The man grabbed Ed by his uninjured shoulder. "Your wounded!"


Noticed NOW did you... Ed thought as he was shaken violently by the bear of a man, his shoulder aching with each throttle.


"Don't worry about me." Edward snapped, pushing the man away and leaning back over Roy. He placed his flesh hand roughly against the man's forehead, and was meet by shockingly cold and clammy skin. "Riza, are there any emergency blankets under your seat?" Ed asked as he checked the pulse points on Roy.


Damn, not good. He's freezing...


Riza quickly stood as the truck bounced along, the diesel engine rumbling. The seats in the truck were like a small storage compartment, merely unhitch the small metal clip, and flip the seat up and there was a small, spacious compartment to store necessities. She quickly pulled out the thick, woolen gray blanket, and tossed it to Ed. He gave a flick of his wrists, unfolding it in air, and threw it over the man. When Ed bent down to lay it evenly over him, Roy gave a deep cough, blood splattering the light fabric staining it dark.


Riza gasped out, dropping to the floor beside Edward with a small thud. She inched her way behind Roy's head, then lifted him by his shoulders into her lap, gently stroking his mussed hair. Edward felt fear once again grip at his heart. Roy could very well be beyond saving, but that wasn't going to stop him. As the rest of the truck talked amongst themselves, Ed tore through the first aid kit he had taken from under Riza's former seat, currently looking for anything he could give Roy to bring his temperature up. A hot compress would have done wonders, but with Armstrong pestering the younger alchemist non stop about his shoulder, he was beginning to wonder why he was even trying to pay attention.


"Edward, we need to get you bandaged..."


My shoulder doesn't even hurt. It doesn't matter, I'm not important. I have to save Roy. I haven't seen him in a year, and I won't let this be the end. I'll save him.


"Mustang's bad Ed, but we can save you..."


I won't let him die. Not now, not when I finally...


"Ed!"


Ed had had enough.


"Just shut up for one GODDAMN minute! Can you do that? Roy's the one who's hurt, not ME, so help me out here!" Edward screeched at the man, standing to his feet, breathing heavily, his dark glare locked on Alex. Edward's voice had cracked and wavered, tears stung at his eyes and he wasn't sure why. Ed's golden eyes had been narrowed to dangerous slits, and he felt his rage eating at his gut, warming him from the inside. The aid kit that had been set in his lap clattered to the floor, its contents vibrating against the metal. The group once again fell silent, broken only by Roy's gasping breath, or the truck hitting a bump in the road.


"Sorry..."


Edward wanted nothing more than to disappear off the face of the Earth that very moment. The anger that fueled him, disappeared, leaving him cold and empty. He never had any intentions of overreacting like that, but it just happened, like someone opened a dam and broke the lever off to shut it again. Quickly, he occupied himself with tying cloth around a rather nasty wound on Roy's arm, and Armstrong, after a moment of staring in shock of the small mans outburst, quickly did as was advised by the small alchemist and began helping, first, by cleaning up the contents of the first aid kit...




OOooOOooOO



With a flash of extreme pain Roy was yet again sprawled out across the ground, blood dripping from his mouth. Jack gave a deep, raspy laugh, and kneeled down over Roy, his knees digging into the alchemist's back.


Jack was a scrawny man, who, after weeks of torture, Roy had come to hate. Here he was, dealing with another beating, telling himself if he could just make it through, he would be okay... Jack slowly repositioned himself, straddling Roy's now undersized waist.


"You know, with the war going on..." Jack hissed into Roy's ear as he tugged at the man's pants, "I can do what ever I want to you. Nobody would find out, and if they did, it wouldn't matter." His scraggly black hair fell into his face as he leaned over his prey, hissing taunts into his ear. Roy had been his project for a while. He was told to convince the man to join their side, via talking. After a week of that getting nowhere, Jack got violent.


Jack grabbed a hold of both of Roy's wrists, holding them in only one of his large hands, his pale fingers gripping around tender flesh tightly. "I'd never even hurt somebody before this, and then the State goes and drops you in my lap and the rest of society says, 'Go on, it's okay to hurt people now.'. It's so god damn wonderful..."


Roy silently willed himself to move, attack, resist in any way, but found no strength left to use, his body screamed in pain, his mind reeled, he could only lay and hope for the man to stop. He would not beg, ever. But Roy was sure that this couldn't be happening to him, it wasn't right. He lay exposed on the floor, beneath the man he hated most, and was to god damn sick, hurt, and tiered to do anything about it. He was powerless...



God, this cannot happen. Just let him do anything else... I'd rather die, just, for my sanity...


"Thank god you're a stubborn man. All you have to do is join our side. The Right side..."


The Flame was ripped from his thoughts as he was flipped harshly from his stomach to his back. His deep midnight eyes met empty gray as Jack grabbed hold of a mass of charcoal hair, grinning like mad. He slowly pulled Roy's head back by his hair, till his raw neck was revealed. Pulling a knife off the floor, Jack ran the knife across the tender flesh, careful to avoid the jugular. It wouldn't do him any good if Roy died now. Jack didn't have the mind to fuck corpses.


Roy gave a small twitch in response, his eyes shut tight. The pain was nothing, but the act was killing him. He tried desperately to black out, to get away from what was next as Jack finally succeeded in taking off the Colonel's pants.


Jack laughed quite cheerily as he unzipped his own pants, for the figure that was Roy was simply a grand sight. With his eyes shut tight and his hands shaking from fear, Jack could not imagine something more beautiful in the world. Slowly, Jack leaned onto the man, his bare clothed body meeting Roy's bare one.


Roy wanted death. He wanted it more than he ever had, even after Hughes's death he hadn't wanted escape this bad. He could feel his heart in his throat as the man atop him intertwined his fingers into his hair.



Just let me die.


"Play along... It's so much better that way..."


Jack ground his hips against Roy's and pressed his erection against his inner thigh, finally gained eye contact. Jack stared deep into charcoal for a moment, their eyes locked. Fear, horror, shame... He crushed his lips against the unwilling mans, forcing his tongue into Roy's mouth. He tasted of blood, a familiar flavor in his mouth. Roy, on first instinct, bit down, hard. Jack pulled away, and brought his hand down hard against Roy's temple.


"Play nice, Bitch..." Jack hissed, reaching his hand back down and gently running it over the stinging flesh, and grin plastered on his face. He pulled Roy's


Jack pulled Roy's legs beside him and lifted his waist off the ground. He positioned himself and slowly leaned into Mustang.


No air found its way into Roy's lungs, his head swam, and his body convulsed as a new pain plagued his body and mind. Tears now flowed freely down his face. Tears weren't for the weak, they were for the suffering. Jack gave a low moan as he thrust himself deeper into Roy, causing a small hiss to escape his lips .


Roy bit down onto his lip, new blood pouring into his mouth, as he tried desperately not to scream or let out any noises of pain. Jack, however, had brought his mouth back against Roy's, and had probed his tongue in again. Roy could not protest, simply putting all of his efforts into trying to relax, to lessen the pain, but nothing help. He was being torn apart from the inside, and his own blood was becoming a lubricant as the man thrust in each new time. He was always murmuring, his grips on his hair and wrists still tight.


"Scream..." Jack ordered, pulling hard on Roy's hair. Roy only shut his eye's tight, his body shaking below the overpowering man.



Just let me die!


"Scream!"


Roy threw his head back, and screamed.



OOooOOooOO



Ed yelled out in shock as Roy screamed, suddenly thrashing, his body convulsing in what he could only guess was excruciating pain. Riza, who still had the Colonel's head in her lap, gave a quick start, and soon found herself trying to restrain the man.


Dammit Roy! We're almost there...


"What the hell is wrong with him?" Ed yelled over Roy's screams, holding down one of the man's thrashing legs. He had only just noticed the tears that leaked from the man's eyes. Edward quickly reached for the first aid kit, and pulled out one of the last things he thought he would have to use on his commanding office, sedative. "Hawkeye, Armstrong, hold him still!" Ed snapped. He knew he wasn't the ranking officer amongst the group, but everyone around here valued one another's views, and they knew that if it needed to be done, then it would happen. Alex firmly held Roy from the stomach down, and Riza gently wrapped one arm just over the Colonel's chest, the other holding his head down by his forehead.


With a skilled eye, Ed filled the syringe one fourth of the way with the clear liquid from the small glass bottle, squirted out any air bubbles, then leaned over Roy, taking the screaming man's arm in his hands. With a quick confirming glance at Armstrong and Hawkeye, the twos' grips tightening, Edward gently slid the needle into Roy's arm, and pushed in the ten milligrams into Roy. After a tense minute of struggling and screaming, the man finally fell still and quiet.


Ed reached over and checked his pulse. It was unsteady, weak, but it was there... The truck screeched to a halt, and Ed snapped his attention to the back of the truck, towards the open air. They were back at base.


Armstrong, Ed and Riza all screamed at the same moment, all calling out for a medic.



OOooOOooOO


BONUS MATERIAL!


Extra info: Okay, the current war that the fic is based around is the Second North War. For those of you who are BIG FMA junkies, you'll know there was indeed a First North War(as noted in the anime on a piece of floating paper on a train station...). North, hence all the snow and hills... Also, the truck that they are riding in, if you still don't have an image of it, the go watch the 4th disc, when the army brigade drives by as Ed, Al, and Marcoh are trying to hide. That's what I'm talking about, those big, canvas trucks. Okay, run down time, this whole war started because of one little logging town. The military basically raised huge taxes. The town got pissed, rallied a great deal of the Northern towns that had the same problem, and organized a strike. Many towns that just had a general dislike for the military joined in, and soon, all of the North was working together.

At this point in the fic, the North is trying to secede from the state and military rule. So, send in the alchemist... I do plan on this being a war based fic, battles and all.


Behind the scenes!: A special look behind the scenes with the creation of Jack, Roy's molester! :woot: When I first began to brainstorm the idea for Pains of War, I focused mostly on the war and the aspects of the relationship Roy and Ed would form during the battles, however, I needed a way to really, start it off. So, I had Roy become a PoW. And BOY did the dramatic rescue idea work! And so it began!


Many scrap sheets of paper later and some talking with some friends and I was ready to being the first chapter. As I typed it out, I talked several chapters ahead with some peers. One, a friend of mine, asked me to draw the rapist. (He didn't have a name in the beginning! We'll get to that in a sec!)


So, I spent the day sketching out different builds and body types. Eventually, I came up with a lanky dark haired man who almost reminded me of Kimblee, but not quite. I found that after drawing him, I could write about him very well. And so, Jack began to take shape.


Then, I realized I didn't have a name for this dreadful man! I though long and hard, but I couldn't come up with anything! I really hated this man, for being so cruel to poor Roy... I had to be sure whatever I named he would constantly remind me of my hate!


So, I gave up and turned the TV on. Low and behold, 24 was on FOX. I HATE THAT SHOW... And what is the main character's name? You guessed it! Jack!


So, there you have it! The creation of a character! Too bad I killed him off so soon... But there shall always be the angsty flashbacks... :3
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