Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Hiromu Arakawa does. I only own the OC characters.

-------

He opened his eyes. It was dark. He tried to speak, but he couldn't. He tried to move, but his body refused to obey him. He was trapped. The thought of that sent his heart racing. Waking up in this nightmare always sent a wave of fear through him.

He made an enormous effort to move, to make a sound, to do anything that might let someone know that he was here. Trapped in this darkness. But even if he screamed, no one would hear him. He had made sure of that.

He could feel him now. His warm hand stroking his face and hair. Trailing down his stomach. Coming to rest at his knees. Two hands pushing apart his legs, opening himself up to be received by the small body underneath him. It didn't matter to him that the boy was suffering from his cruel touch. He felt moist lips grace the shell of his ear, warm breath washing over the skin. The whisper carried with it the terror and pain that he had caused, "My pretty little sunflower..."

White hot pain shot through his body. He begged for it to stop, but the form on top of him would not relent. Waves of agony rippled through him as the man rocked back and forth, burying himself deeper and deeper inside the small form. There was no end to it, no end to the nightmare. It went on and on. It would never stop.

In the midst of it all, he heard a voice: "Brother, wake up! Please, it's me, Alphonse. Please wake up!"

Edward's eyes shot open as he took in a huge gulp of air. He was breathing heavily, the effects of the nightmare still lingering. Slowly, he tried to take in his surroundings, but the glaring light assaulted his senses. He blinked several times before the room came into focus.

He was in a hospital bed, the covers drawn up to his chest. He was wearing the lime green scrubs of hospital patients. His hair was still loose. When he examined himself, he noticed that an IV was attached to the back of his left hand, the line running to a drip standing next to his bed. He had the urge to pull it out. He had enough needles stabbed into his flesh to last a lifetime.

"Brother?" A voice, off to his right. Next to him. Ed slowly turned his head towards the direction it came from, his expression filled with shock. He took in the sight of red, glinting eyes and steel that shone from the sunlight that streamed through the window. "Are you alright?" the suit of armor asked.

A few seconds passed of Ed just staring at his younger brother, at the soul that he had attached to the suit of armor in their family shed, that terrible night that they had sacrificed so much. For Edward, he had to make sure that this was all real. Once he realized that he wasn't about to wake inside that dark room again, his face crumbled, and tears poured from his dull, golden orbs.

Alphonse was quick to rush forward as his older brother reached out for him. Very delicately, he enveloped the young prodigy in his embrace, allowing the older teen to sob into his armored chest. Edward himself was trembling too much to notice that Alphonse's form was shaking, as if he were crying with him.

-------

"You're Colonel Mustang, correct?" the doctor asked. She was a proud and eccentric woman, who took her work very seriously. She had acquired this job for the sole purpose of saving lives, and that was what her reputation was based on. But of all the things that she had seen, Dr. Amelia Brown had never seen anything as brutal and horrifying as this. The man standing before her straightened at the sound of his name and title, his face stoic and resolute.

"Yes, that's correct," he affirmed. Dr. Brown nodded at him. "Mr. Elric is awake now. If you would like to see him, then please follow me," she said. The colonel fell into step beside her as they made their way through the halls of Central hospital. Self-consciously, Brown squeezed the clipboard she was carrying to her chest before pulling it away and looking through it. It was a recent copy of Edward Elric's medical report and examination. She flipped a page over to reveal the list of the patient's injuries. Her gaze hovered over the list, trying to think of the words that would be best to describe the condition of the colonel's subordinate.

"Colonel," she said as they walked, "I have Mr. Elric's examination results. I would believe you would want to hear them."

Mustang's throat closed up. Of course he wanted to know Ed's condition. He needed to know. He just wasn't sure if he was ready. The colonel nodded. "Yes, please," he said in a steady voice.

Dr. Brown sighed, and looked over the notes again. She wasn't quite sure where to begin. "Well, to start off, the puncture wounds on Mr. Elric's neck and arm, as well as the results of his blood work, show that he was injected, several times, with a drug that was a solution of nitric oxide and other chemicals."

Mustang's jaw clenched. He knew exactly what nitric oxide would trigger. He could hardly contain himself from punching the wall. He knew it only got worse from here.

Brown cleared her throat and continued. "The results of his physical examination show only superficial damage from the bruises, and extensive damage to the rectal area." She paused to glance at the older man walking beside her. It seemed like he was using all his effort to remain composed. "There is evidence that he's been penetrated several times. And the damage tells us that this was an everyday occurrence."

They had finally reached Edward's hospital room. Mustang realized that his breathing had been shallow and quick the entire time they had walked. He forced himself to relax and breathe in deeply. He rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb. He had come close to passing out. "I'm guessing that there's more to this than what you're telling me," he stated.

Brown adopted a forlorn look to her expression. She nodded. "He'll be weak for a few days, due to his malnourishment. But trauma of this kind can leave devastating effects. He'll most likely have PTSD from this." She looked as if she were confessing a crime that she regretted doing, even though she was just the bearer of bad news. "I suggest that he attends therapy sessions until he's deemed fit to be released."

Mustang nodded. He knew that Edward wouldn't like that, but if he was going to get through this, he had to talk about it. He hated having the boy relive those horrifying events, but it was the only way he was going to get better. "I understand," he said.

"Good," Brown responded. She a took a few steps forward before stopping right at Mustang's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I wish there was more that I could do."

Mustang tilted his head towards her. "You did all you could," he assured her. She turned her gaze towards him, forcing him to look into her hazel eyes. "I have a son," she admitted. "If something like this had happened to him, well... I don't what I would do." With that, she walked off, attending to her other duties.

Mustang took a second to ponder her words before opening the door to Edward's room.

-------

Author's Note: Second to last part. This will mostly just wind down to end of it. Poor Ed, I hurt him really bad this time. Do I regret doing it? Maybe. I just wanna give him a hug, dammit!

You have all been so supportive through this series, and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I wish I could give you all hugs too, you're so wonderful.

Praise is appreciated and constructive criticism is encouraged.

-The_Mayflower