Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Alone ❯ Alone ( Chapter 1 )

A/N: Okay, this isn’t an excuse, this is a warning to everybody: This is my first completed FMA fic, I’m NOT very far into the series at all (or at least, I wasn‘t when I wrote this), and I was pretty much a walking zombie from lack of sleep, so there is likely quite a bit of incoherency in this. I MAY rewrite parts of it later or something, but right now this is what you’re getting. ^_^

I apologize beforehand for any OOCness (hope there’s none) and confusion this fic may cause... like I said, first FMA fic, I have no idea what I’m doing. ^_^

Still, hope ya like it! I think I might go pass out now from insomnia, and just because I’ve really depressed myself writing this. ^_^

DISCLAIMER: Okay, even if you understand absolutely none of what I’ve written past this, you gotta get it through your heads NOW that I do not, never have and, sadly enough, probably never will own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters in it! Anyone who told you otherwise is delusional. I do, however, own this story, so please don’t try and steal that.

Warnings: Um... well let’s see... torture, abuse, non-con, mind fuckery and just the all around torment of Ed in every possible way. None of this is explicit, mind you, but it’s there so I figure I better mention it. Oh yeah, and ANGST!

But then again, considering this is one of my stories, I think the angst pretty much just goes without saying...   ~*~   Alone

Ed whimpered softly into the uncaring darkness, curling further in on himself and wrapping his one still attached arm tightly around his mismatched knees-- pressing cold flesh and colder steel up against his stomach in a futile effort to try and find some source of warmth... or comfort.

It didn’t help, but he relished in the feeling anyway.

It had been a long time since they had allowed him to have his automail leg back again. “Too risky” they had said before. He was a flight risk, and a very powerful one at that. Couldn’t give him any extra aid in any escape attempts he might make.

Yeah. Right.

Like Ed could escape from here.

Like he’d even bother trying.

Like he had somewhere to go to on the outside.

Ed mentally shook his head. No. He wasn’t going to escape. It was too much work and too big a risk for not enough of a reward. Sure, if he made it to the outside he’d have some semblance of freedom-- he would be seen more as a person than just some fucked up research experiment-- but he’d be forced to spend his entire life in hiding; running forever from these maniacs who wanted to study and abuse him... he’d never be safe, and he’d never be allowed to see anyone he loved again... hell, he’d never be allowed to love anyone again, because anyone he got close to he would be either forced to abandon at some point, or would have wrenched away from him and used as bait to lure him back. It wasn’t any kind of a life, really. He’d have no home, no friends, no job no... family...

Then again, this was all assuming he could get out of here. Which, of course, he couldn’t.

The walls were too thick, the security too strong, the risk too high and the chances of success so unbelievably low...

Ed sighed, and almost immediately regretted it as pain surged through his chest.

Dammit!

Pain.

Hurt.

Everything fucking hurt all the fucking time!

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t do anything without some kind of pain spiralling through his tortured and abused body... He had given up long ago searching for an activity that didn’t hurt, and now was simply trying to find the one that hurt the least. His senses were so numb now, though, it was hard to tell.

Dammit all! Why did they have to do this? Why couldn’t they just kill him and get it over with?!

They had no fucking right to keep doing this to him!

The confinement, the questions, the interrogations, the torture, the experiments... And he hadn’t done anything wrong!

Well, maybe that wasn’t quite true.

Human Transmutation was one of the most dangerous and offensive crimes there was, after all. And that was why he was here... But that had been a mistake! A horrible, cruel, unfair mistake made by two stupid kids who didn’t know any better... who thought they were strong enough to defy the laws of Equivalent Exchange and bring back something that they should have just let go...

He had already given up an arm and a leg and his brother had given up his entire body, shouldn’t that be enough?! The gate had been satisfied with that! Why the hell couldn’t the rest of the world be?

And even if they weren’t, why the fuck couldn’t they just stick to the laws then? Why couldn’t they just kill him and get it over with? There was no reason for this...

Except... that there was.

Al.

Ed’s head spun slightly as the image of his brother-- both the flesh and metal version-- swam in front of his glazed and unfocused eyes, and he whined again, trying to block it out.

No. Not Al. He could think of anything but Al. He had worked so hard to keep his brother out of this place-- to convince the military that he was solely responsible for the transmutation, and Al had had nothing to do with it-- he wouldn’t drag his brother in here now. Not even in his thoughts an delusions.

Keep Al Safe.

That had been the one thought in his head that had kept him sane throughout all this-- that had given him just enough will power to fight off their strange drugs that made him spill his guts all over the floor (literally and figuratively) and not slip up and tell them about Al’s part. He didn’t know what the hell they put in those drugs, but they were damn effective, and all they had to do was ask a question, and he’d find himself pouring out memories he wasn’t even aware he still had... about Risembool and Winry and Pinako and his mother and what little he remembered of his father... anyone and everyone they asked him about, he’d tell them. Except Al. Never Al.

And that had been both Ed’s saviour and his bane.

Protecting Al and keeping silent about him despite everything they did both kept Ed sane, and allowed him to keep a few shreds of pride and dignity and courage... because he’d fought them. However small and vain the effort, he had fought them. He had defied them and denied them what they wanted and had managed to keep his little brother safe even from within the confines of Laboratory 5. And, as long as he continued to do that, Al was safe. Nobody else could prove or disprove that Al had had anything to do with the human transmutation. Even if Al was little more than a soul bound to armour, they had no legal way of taking him in to experiment on because of that. Besides, from what he had heard, they already had plenty of people like that here.

But nothing was gained without some kind of loss, and this was no different.

In return for his small display of defiance (and as a way to release their own frustrations that he would not cooperate with them) the military, or the scientists, or whoever the fuck was in charge of this madhouse, would put just that much more effort into breaking him.

They used whatever torture they thought was necessary. Whips, needles, burns, electricity, waterboarding, beating, bastinado, cutting, choking, starvation, dehydration, hypothermia, isolation, sleep deprevation... rape... anything they thought they could get away with without permanently damaging him. At least, on the outside.

On the inside, though, he was already broken beyond repair. And he knew it.

And he suspected they did too.

They had, after all, worked long and hard to break his spirit. They liked to fuck with his mind in the hopes they might be able to crack it and force him into submission.

He still remembered when they had been raping him the last time... just after they finished... one of them had taken out a gun and pointed it at him-- pressed the cold steel right up against his temple... cocked it and let the bullet slide into the chamber... placed their finger on the trigger... and pulled...

For a long time Ed had just sat there, his entire world faded to black and his ears deaf to the world around him, and his body shaking numbly as he waited tensely for the shot that never came.

When he had finally dared to open his eyes, the guards were sneering down at him, amusement plain in their condescending gazes as they left him alone again, laughing crudely and smirking as he stared disbelievingly after them.

That had been one of the first and only nights Ed had seriously acted up there.

He may have been weak, but that little display had been enough to bring back some of his old fire and outrage, and that in itself had given him enough energy to nearly smash the door to his cell, and break a guards nose before they managed to sedate him. All without his automail arm.

The next day they had isolated him again. Ed hadn’t cared.

He had been too miserable to care.

That the guards had toyed with his life so easily... it made him sick. Literally. They were forced to remove him from isolation to clean him up, and then again to stop him from smashing his own head open against the wall. Because, at that point, he was desperate and beyond caring. The one thing Ed had had hope of was that they would, eventually, just come and kill him. And the bastards had taken even that from him.

After that he had stopped talking.

At first he hadn’t though it would work because of all their useful “interrogation” methods and drugs, but somehow he had resisted them... something had broken within him the moment the guard had pulled that trigger, but, in return, something else had reared to life.

A hard, dark, glacial something that filled him so completely. A void of emptiness and loneliness and pain and sorrow all balled up into one stoic exterior and numb interior.

And it seemed to have done the job, because, eventually... they gave up.

Oh, it took some time... at first they had tried to force him to react, and then they had tried to coax it into him-- offering him time out of his cell to walk around the building (with an escort of course) maybe a trip outside if he was good, his automail leg back... only the latter he had accepted. And that was only because it was his to begin with, and he didn’t like the strange ghost tingles his mind felt with the limb gone.

When it had become obvious that he was no longer going to be anything more than an unresponsive captive, they had moved on.

Not let him go or killed him, just... moved on.

Left him here to rot.

He wondered if anyone even remembered he was here at all...

He supposed someone must, because every once in a while food or water or a fresh blanket would show up out of the blue, but really, that might just be mandatory. Maybe they send one to every cell in the cellblock without actually knowing if someone’s there to get it or not.

Ed decided it didn’t matter.

It was better if they forgot about him.

The less they thought about him, the less pain he endured, and the less they thought about Al too. The safer they all were.

Ed let out a small whimper again-- in similar tones to the original one-- as he painfully reached down and pulled the disgusting blanket more tightly around his frame. Damn. His shoulder hurt. Without the automail limb in, it was easy for dirt and gunk to get inside the port. And, since no one here ever bothered to give him something to clean it with, it was easy to get infected. The pain of dirt and grime and germs against raw and exposed nerves was a bitch, but Ed endured it without complaint. Maybe one day the infection would spread and kill him. Until then, it, like everything else, was negligible.

Ed swallowed thickly around the dry skin in his throat, ignoring how swollen his tongue felt in his mouth as he allowed his eyes to drift closed again. Instantly those images of Al filled his mind again, and he resisted the urge to snap his eyes open again and block them out.

Because, as much as Ed longed to keep his brother pure, it was good to see him again... even if he was only a figment of his imagination.

And Ed found himself studying the images his mind had so openly displayed for him-- taking in every detail of his brother again as if this wasn’t actually just a memory, but the real thing... and he couldn’t help but feel a small pang of regret. Not just from the fact that the smiling, blonde-haired boy before him had been transformed into that big, awkward metal heap either.

But because... he missed his brother.

He wouldn’t wish Al in here for anything, and he didn’t regret for even a moment taking the fall for their actions, but... still... Al was everything to him and... he wanted to see him again... hear his voice, even if it was marred by the echo of metal. He wanted to make certain his brother was okay and that no one had hurt him while Ed was unable to protect him.

He didn’t want to be alone anymore.

And maybe it was selfish of him, because this was probably everything that he deserved for what he had done to his brother, but that didn’t help at all to ease the small ache that had begun to rise in his chest-- one that had absolutely nothing to do with his body’s abuse and the infection.

‘Al,’ He whispered softly in his own mind, still not feeling safe enough to say the words out loud. ‘I hope you’re happy wherever you are. I hope you’re safe. You’re all I’ve got left in the world... I need you to stay safe for me... Even though I can’t protect you anymore...’

Tears rose unbidden in Ed’s eyes, and slipped silently down the dirty flesh on his cheek-- the first tears the fallen alchemist had shed since they had brought him here... and for once, he found himself unwilling and unable to hold them back.

It’s not like anyone would see them anyway.

There was no one here to see them.

No one but him, and a couple of figments of his imagination.

Everyone else was gone... on the outside or somewhere far away.

He was alone...

For the first time in his life, he was really and truly alone.

And he hated it.

‘Al...’ He murmured softly, his voice a low rasp that fought each and every word all the way up his throat. ‘Please...’ He had meant to say “stay safe” or “don’t come get me” again... but he couldn’t. The despair would become far too great and real if he did, and all hope would be lost. Al was his only hope here... he couldn’t give it up. ‘Come get me...’

He swallowed again, filling his throat with what little saliva he could and allowing his next words to come out strong as he threw caution of being overheard to the wind.

‘...I love you...’

Besides, when one was this alone, who could really be listening anyway?

~Owari~ ~*~  

A/N: Yep, that's the end. Hope I've gone and given you all your annual dose of depression (either from the content of the story, or the quality ^_^). Now excuse me while I go do that collapsing thing I talked about earlier.