The Edge of Insanity

A/N: This really was supposed to be a small, oneshot fic. But then my muses took over. DX



Satterb: Really? You really like it? WEE! :D



The war went on with ever increasing ferocity. The more the Amestris army wrestled control over their land, the more the Ishballians struggled. As a young lieutenant, shortly before the war started, Roy had participated in a hunt organized by and for the Brass, up in the Briggs mountains, chasing after the big cats that inhabited the region – lithe, deadly animals that were used to being the hunters, not the hunted. They spent days after days pursuing one of those animals. It was the height of summer and snow was scarce, even if the nights were freezingly cold.



He remembered when they finally managed to catch up with the beast, or more likely, it turned back to deal with them, thinking them easy prey, knowing nothing of guns or Alchemy. Still, despite their modern weapons and their training, it still managed to sneak up on them and maul several of their handlers before their guide – a certain Colonel Olivia Armstrong – took an aim at it and shot it, acting calm and focused while the higher ranking officers around her were panicking and trying to run for cover in order to save themselves from the jaws and claws of the lion. It roared when the bulled ripped into it and fled, leaving a trail of blood behind. Exhilarated that their prey was now an easier target – or so they thought – the officers pressed the Colonel to follow the animal so that they could finish it off, despite her warning that the cornered, injured beast would be at its most dangerous. She was right of course – when they caught up with it a day later, it was cornered between a steep rock wall and the men with guns, its wounds woozing blood and pus, roaring in agony as they pressed in.



With nothing to lose lion attacked again even more vicious than before, surprisingly quick and agile for its condition. It would have torn General Raven’s head off if Roy hadn’t finally put a stop to it and blasted it off the fallen man, his flames scorching the beautiful tawny fur and pitting the animal out of its misery. The higher ups had been unhappy that they had lost the hide, but Roy still had saved a General’s life and got promoted for his efforts.



The Ishballians reminded Roy of the mountain lion at its final moments – cornered, injured, with no where else to go, having completely lost the illusion that their enemy would show any mercy, they fought like people with nothing to lose and Roy put them down just like he had put the animal down. Back then he had regretted his action, because he had destroyed something so beautiful, because it hadn’t been his place to interfere with the natural order of things – Roy had always considered hunting for any other purposes than survival unnatural and wrong – you didn’t need what you killed and you gave nothing back in return.



Now though, with the power of the Stone throbbing in his veins like a second heart every time he used it, he couldn’t help but enjoy when the bright flash of his flames erupted like flowers of destruction all around him. Not even the screams bothered him too much anymore. In the evenings, when he returned to base, some of his sanity returned and on its heels guilt followed. He knew what was happening to him, he knew that the Stone was doing this to him, and worse, he was allowing it, but he just couldn’t let go. He couldn’t make himself face the crimes he was commiting without the soothing effect of the Stone. He was weak and he was a coward and he hated himself in the end of the day when its power drained from him like the blood from the throat of a slaughtered animal strung up on a hook. He couldn’t tell this to Hawkeye, couldn’t explain it to her and risk alienating one of the few true friends he had, nor could he tell Hughes because his friend, despite the horrors raging all around them, somehow managed to attain his cheerful demeanor, constantly reading and rereading the perfumed letters he got from Central and spending most of his free time writing back. His friend was in love and it was helping him cope with the realities of the genocide they were perpetrating. Who was Roy to ruin that for him?



That left only one option but Roy resisted for weeks going down that road, fearing the outcome and craving it in the same time. It was almost ironic that in the end, the decision was taken out of his hands.



“Major! Major!”



Roy turned around and looked at the young woman bearing a lieutenant insignia on her dusty uniform.



“Yes?”



The woman saluted brusquely.



“The Commander wants to see you in his tent, Sir! Right away.”



Roy nodded and answered the salute, then quickly turned and walked towards his Commander’s tent, not feeling particularly curious, knowing that they could be calling him for only one thing.



“Ah, you’re here now.” Said his commander, an usually pale but now badly sunburned middlge-aged man with a drooping dark moustache and a receding hairline. Roy froze in mid-greeting when his gaze locked with familiar reptilian eyes. He gave himself a mental shake, forced himself to ignore Kimbley and looked at the General.



“Sir?”



“Major Kimbley and you, Mustang, will be going on a little mission today, deep into the desert, along with a small squad of backup soldiers to watch your backs.”



He beckoned Roy to the table and pointed to a location on one of the maps spread over it.



“Here. This is a secret compound where the remnants of the Ishballian forces are producing weapons supplying their militia. They are heavily fortified, so I decided that the two of you should go together. We need to cut the rebel’s weapon’s supply if we are to speed up the end of its war. We have spent enough time in this hellhole.”



“The Major and I will not disappoint you, Sir.” Kimbley spoke, his usual silken tone perfectly civil and respectful, but the look he was giving the back of the General’s head was downright mocking. Roy could tell why, having felt in a similar way himself many times – it was the soldiers and the Alchemists who did the dirty work, and yet it was a Commander, a man who ate good food and slept in a decent bed, who mostly remained in his tent and watched the battle from the sidelines that complained.



The fact that him and Kimbley had the same view on anything was quite amusing in Roy’s opinion but he refrained from expressing his amusement until they were safely away from the camp, traveling in a car of their own – one of the new models especially designed for the rough terrain. Kimbley was at the wheel and despite Roy’s initial misgivings, he proved to be a sensible driver. Their squad was following behind in a truck. They felt relatively safe since at the moment they were passing through territory completely under the control of the Amestris army, passing checkpoint after checkpoint.



The silence between them would’ve been deafening if it weren’t for the constant roar of the engine. Roy had been expecting snide remarks, leering, attempts to be molested, but so far Kimbley just watched the road and completely ignored Roy’s presence.



Finally, Roy couldn’t take the silence and the uncertainty anymore and spoke:



“I didn’t know that you dislike being here.”



Kimbley turned minutely to look at him.



“I was left with the impression you enjoy your job.” Roy continued, hoping for a response.



“I enjoy a job well-done, regardless of what the job is.” Kimbley answered him and turned to look at the road again.



They were passing through a ruined Ishballan village, carefully meandering around the rubble and explosion craters that littered the road.



“Even if that involves killing?” Roy couldn’t help but challenge. The other did turn around to look at him then, giving him a predatory smile.



“Oh, especially that.” The other admitted and burst into giggles at the horrified expression on Roy’s face. “Oh, if you could see the face you made!” he exclaimed and the car veered dangerously before Kimbley regained control.



“Was it always like that?” Roy pressed on despite the bile that rose in his throat. Kimbley suddenly seized laughing and turned to look at him suspiciously.



“What do you mean?”



“Did you enjoy the killing when you first came here?” Roy asked, refusing to back down.



Something flickered behind the cold golden eyes, a shadow, an emotion very different than the viciousness and cynicism.



“What do you mean?” he asked and then the razor-blade smile returned, masking the emotion Roy saw in his eyes. “Did I enjoy killing before I got my Stone?”



Roy nodded.



“Let me get something straight, Mustang. I have never been a bleeding heart goody-two-shoes like you. I told you already, I like to do my job efficiently. The Stone didn’t change that, in fact, it only aided me in it.”



He turned to the road again. Roy remained silent for several minutes.



“You didn’t actually answer my question.” He finally said.



“No, I didn’t.”



“Why not?”



“I believe I told you already, Mojor. If you want me to help you, you’ll have to beg.”



Roy actually sputtered at the smug reply and crossed his arms on his chest angrily.



“How is you telling me about your past helping me in any way, Kimbley?”



“It’s satisfying your curiosity and giving you additional data for analysis. Knowledge is something all Alchemists treasure, Mustang. You and I aren’t that different, at least in that sense. But being Alchemists also means that we understand, or at least, we’re supposed to understand that there is no such thing as a free lunch. If you want something, you should give something in return.”



“And here I thought that you preferred to avoid the Equivalent Exchange when you could.” Roy told him with a crooked little smile.



Kimbley laughed then, a surprisingly hearty sound coming from someone who usually sounded like an aroused hyena.



“That I do.” He turned to give Roy a wink “But only when it’s in my favour.”



That night they made their camp the crevasses of the large rock hill their found, posting sentries around the perimeter to be sure that no one would sneak up on them. As they spread their tents Roy watched Kimbley work in the dim twilight. He had abandoned his uniform coat remaining only in his sleeveless undershirt to because of the heat. As he hammered the stakes and pulled and tied the ropes around them, the younger man used the opportunity to examine his figure. He watched him as he moved, curiously taking in the details of his body. Kimbley wasn’t a large man, he was slender and although he was well-built, he was more wiry than muscled, not an ounce of babyfat remaining anywhere on his form. Roy knew he too had probably lost his fresh faced, youthful looks after all the weeks he\'d spent in the heat and dry wind of the desert, but Kimbley looked like he had never had them to begin with.



Finally they were done and spent the next half an hour consuming their rations for the night, then listened to the report regarding the surrounding area.



When they entered the tent and began to prepare for bed Roy felt tense and anxious, worried about what Kimbley might try in his sleep – from raping him to turning him into a human bomb, but the other man simply ignored him again, removing his jacket and heavy boots and letting his long hair out its confines and taking out a small bone comb out of his jacket pocket to comb it. Roy curiously observed what he supposed was a nightly ritual and noticed that there was a tiny power circle etched onto the bone, a circle that gave very gentle, barely there glow while Kimbley groomed himself.



“You’re using Alchemy to remove the dirt and grease out of your hair!” Roy suddenly exclaimed, feeling more than a little scandalized that someone would use Alchemy for such trivial matters. It seemed disrespectful to him, even if he secretly appreciated the sight of the long, silken curtain of dark hair, getting shinier and smoother with each time the comb passed through it.



Kimbley gave him an exasperated look.



“Of course. How else do you suppose I can maintain hygiene in this shithole?” he sounded as exasperated as he looked.



Roy blinked again, wondering if it was worth it to try and lecture him about ethical usage of Alchemy. He remembered the destruction the both of them they inflicted on the enemy and suddenly laughed, doubling over and holding his stomach, laughed until he felt tears of hysteria running down his face. When he was finally done, he felt drained and ashamed at his outburst. Kimbley was done combing his hair and was looking at him thoughtfully.



“And they call ME unstable.” He muttered and shook his head, raising his feet onto his cot and lying back. He fell asleep quite quickly, something Roy didn’t expect. Wasn’t he worried that Roy might try to do something to him? Or was he arrogant enough to believe that he would be able to react on time? Or he simply didn’t care?



Roy lay down on his side and watched his profile in the darkness of the tent, listening to his calm, even breathing. Over an hour later he finally fell asleep as well.



The dream came unbidden, just like it did every time when he spent more that a few consecutive days not using the Stone. It was as if though its protective bubble burst around Roy and left him vulnerable to be preyed on by his own consciousness.



He was in the desert, standing alone in an endless salt plane, the sun glowing mercilessly right above him, its light reflected off the blinding whiteness of the crystal salt and making him flinch and blink to protect his eyes. Suddenly there was a nasty, loud screech reminding him of nails being dragged down a blackboard and he flinched again, then turned around to find the source of the offending sound.



And then he saw her. It was that little girl again, Roy was sure that it was her, even if the tiny figure standing before him was charred and formless, the stench of burned meat palpable even in his dream. He knew that it was her because the silken little bow was pinned on the top of her deformed little head, like a bright butterfly that had landed on a carrion flower. There were no eyes in her scull, having burst and leaked away from the heat of the fire that had killed her and yet she was staring at him with such intensity that Roy felt trapped by that eyeless gaze. She just stood there silently, the ruin of her face turned towards him. Roy tried to say something but then he heard the loud screeching sound and he turned to see that another one had appeared, a grown male this time, just as savaged by the fire as the little girl was. They were standing still, saying nothing, their empty eye-sockets focused on Roy. Another screech and another charred body appeared, and another, and another, each materializing after that awful howl. Roy turned around desperately looking for a way out, wanting to run, to hide, but they were all around him, too many of them, leaving no free space he could run through.



“What do you want!” he screamed, breath coming in sharp, short gasps as fear gripped his throat. “Please, what do you want!” he cried again as he watched more and more appearing behind that first row, hundreds more, all of them burned beyond recognition, their blackened forms a sharp contrast to the whiteness of the salt plane.



“I am sorry. Please, I am so sorry!” he keened and tears of horror and guilt blurred his vision. Suddenly they moved forward, their arms arms raised and stretching towards him, coming closer and closer with each passing second. Soon they were on him, grabbing, pulling, tearing at his clothes and his flesh. Their stench was overwhelming and he tried to scream in terror when a small, burned hand suddenly covered his nose and mouth, the tips of the bone that stuck through the burned flesh of her fingers cruelly pressing against his eyes. He was on the ground, and they were all around him, all over him, he was buried under a mass of rotting, burned flesh and there was no escape…



Roy woke up with a loud, panicked gasp and almost fell off his cot. Strong hands suddenly grabbed his shoulders and pressed him back against the thin mattress and he struggled furiously, on the verge of snapping his fingers and blasting away whoever was holding him down. The sharp sting of a slap against his face was like a bucket of cold water splashed over his head, suddenly everything came back into focus.



He saw Kimbley’s silhouette leaning over him, the long hair spilling over his shoulder and tickling Roy’s nose.



“Wake up, Mustang. It was just a dream.”



He gasped again and finally relaxed back onto the cot, taking deep measured breaths.



“I know.”



“You still have them.” Kimbley noted as he perched on the edge of Roy’s cot. “How come?”



Roy tiredly rubbed his eyes.



“What do you mean?”



“Shouldn’t have the Stone taken care of those?” Kimbley sounded surprised, thoughtful.



“Why? Is that what happened to you? You had nightmares first and then they stopped?” Roy asked snidely, not in the mood to put up with Kimbley’s usual antics.



“Who said I EVER had nightmares, Mustang?” the other responded lightly.



Roy relaxed back onto the cot with an exasperated sigh. His heart still hammered wildly in his chest, right under Kimbley’s palm.



“The nightmares return when I don’t use the Stone for a few days.” Roy admitted quietly in the darkness of the tent. Kimbley’s head jerked but he couldn’t see his expression.



The hand on his chest travelled up and gently cupped his cheek.



“You still can’t let go completely, can’t you Roy?” Kimbley asked, but he sounded more like he was talking to himself rather than to Roy. “Such a sweet, gentle boy you are. Your mommy must be proud of you.”



“Don’t you talk about my mother…!” Roy began furiously but a finger pressed against his lips.



“Shh. I meant no disrespect. I was being serious.” He paused “For a change.”



“Oh. I didn’t think you were capable of it.”



“You don’t know anything about me, Mustang.” Kimbley told him, his tone still calm and thoughtful. That had to be the longest civil conversation Roy had had with this man.



“It still hurts.” He confessed. “Not when I use it… When I use it, it’s exhilarating. I feel so free, so powerful. I know nothing but joy, even when I am using it to kill people. Especially then. When I stop though… It all rushes back, all of me that I thought was taken away returns, and it hurts even worse than before.” The words came out in a rush, having long been bottled up. Those were his darkest secrets, spilled out in the open in the darkness of the tent, shared with the one person in the world who could understand. Who was too far gone himself to judge. “I can’t sleep. The nightmares…” he shuddered with a dry sob and then finally spoke the words he had been craving to speak and dreading them at the same time. “Help me. Please.”



He really wished that there was a little light in the tent so he could see Kimbley’s expression. Was he pleased? Moved? Or did he look as derisive and mocking as he did when he accepted his orders from their commander?



“Say it again.” Kimbley said in a hoarse, gravelly voice. The thin fingers against his cheek caressed him again, sliding down, coming to rest against his throat.



“Help me.” Roy repeated and it came out easier this time. “Please.”



Kimbley suddenly leaned and kissed him, roughly smashing his lips against him. He bit on Roy’s lower lip and when the younger man gasped in pain and surprise he slid his tongue in his mouth, wetly curling it against Roy’s. The younger man spent several moments in a stunned silence before he returned the kiss with just as much fervor, wrapping his arms around Kimbley’s bony shoulders and pulling him closer, urging him to climb onto the narrow cot. The other needed no further invitation, he quickly joined him and tugged the blanket away from Roy, dropping it carelessly onto the sandy ground, then rolled on top of him and grabbed Roy’s wrists. He roughly pressed them above Roy’s head, long fingers digging in his wrists. His face was close enough to Roy’s for him to feel his warm, moist breath puffing accross his cheek. He actually smelled nice, Roy discovered, despite the heat and the dirt. Did he use his craft to keep the rest of himself clean, like hid did with his hair? Being a specialist in organic Alchemy, it shouldn’t be too difficult. The though made Roy giggle.



Kimbley’s hips gave a sharp thrust against Roy’s crotch and the younger man’s laugh died in his throat as he gasped at the sudden stimulation. Kimbley used his knees to spread Roy’s thighs and he settled comfortably between his legs, then spoke:



“Pay attention now, boy.”



Roy quieted down.



“If you want this to happen, you’ll have to follow some rules.”



“Rules?” Roy narrowed his eyes up at him. “Only if they don’t interfere with my work.”



It was Kimbley’s turn to pause, but eventually he nodded.



“Fair enough.” The hands on his wrists tightened. “The first and most important rule is that I. Don’t. Share.” He spoke stressing on each individual word. “If I find out that you’ve been going to someone other than me, our deal will be off. Depending on how upset I am there might be consequences not just for you, but for that other person as well. Especially for that other person.”



“What about you?” Roy challenged without missing a beat. “Will you limit yourself to me alone?”



An indignant snort followed:



“You’re the one who needs me, Roy, not the other way around.”



“If that was so, you wouldn’t be here now. I might not know much about you, Kimbley, but I do know that you do nothing unless it’s to your benefit. Avoiding the Equivalent Exchange, indeed.” Roy hissed. He expected that Kimbley would either pull away and reject him again, or hit him, so he was quite surprised when the other man laughed.



“That’s why I like you, Roy. You’re such a smart, observant boy, despite that overbearing sense of guilt of yours. Very well. No one else but you. The other rule is that I may have you, whenever I see fit, unless it directly interferes with your duties.”



Roy nodded, his breathing suddenly increasing. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to have sex, and on a regular basis, with a man who was a known sadist? He licked his lips nervously, then slowly, deliberately, tightened his thighs around Kimbley’s wiry form, reveling in the way the man felt, the way they fit so perfectly together, the heat rapidly building between them and pooling in Roy’s groin. He rocked slowly against him and felt his body stiffen, an answering bulge slowly growing between his legs.



“I have a rule too.” Roy whispered.



“Mhm?”



“You may not cause me any permanent damage or damage me enough so wouldn’t be able to perform on the battlefield.”



He kept rocking, rubbing against him and delighted in the way the man’s breath caught in his throat.



“Whatever makes you think I’d harm you to begin with?”



“Because you want to.” Roy answered, feeling bolder and bolder. He raised his head to nip him behind his ear, tasting clear sweat and soft skin, the long, silken hair tickling his nose and chin. “I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me. You want to hurt me.” He planted a soft, chaste kiss against his lips. “I want you to hurt me too.”