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A Little Light of Love	By : squallstorm Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 7987 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Disclaimer:
I do NOT own Fullmetal alchemist or it's characters.....I'm just
playing with them.

Author's
note:

Thanks
to ZaKai for reading through this chapter and find all my many
mistakes and showing me a few tricks as well XD

(1)
Console Generale – Brigadier General

Chapter 3 –
Version 2.0

The
day was already sweltering and it was barely 10 o'clock. The wind
gusted, lifting sand and grit into the air to swirl in beige clouds
across the ground. That's what really bothered him here, the sand.
It worked its way into all sorts
of places that foreign objects, like sand, had no right to be. The
loose robe and turban that he was made to wear helped keep him cool
though, but if any of the guys back at the base back home saw him in
this dress—he could almost hear the teasing now. He was sure
that he wouldn't live it down anytime soon.

Mentally slapping
himself for his lack of concentration, Roy re-focused his attention
on the suspect he was following. The man was supposed to be in
possession of some advanced weapon plans, but as of yet he hadn't
made a move to sell them on the black market. Once he did though,
MI-8 would sweep in and confiscate it, arresting the seller and the
buyers.

The suspect was making
his way down the narrow street towards the market, which meant it was
going to be crowded AND hot; his two least favorite conditions.
Double checking the distance between them, Roy fell back a little; in
his annoyance he had sped up again. Once in the market he would be
able to leap-frog the man several times to avoid suspicion. His
partner would be around here as well, circling the man as Roy would
be.

For
the next several hours, the mark strolled around the market place,
looking at each and every squash there was and then going back to the
start to find the one he really wanted, haggling over the price.
Then it would start all over again with whatever else was on the
menu. It was so HARD to stay on the job and not go over there and
punch him out for being a total idiot!
While he kept the suspect in sight, Roy bought some things for his
own evening meal as well, though he was done in five minutes.

Finally, the suspect was
satisfied with his purchases and made for home. The man had talked
to no one other than the many venders he visited. They would all be
processed later and if need be taken in for questioning.

The streets had enough
traffic on them still that Roy could follow him home unnoticed. The
suspect slipped into his home and closed the door. Tugging the loose
end of his turban over the lower half of his face, Roy walked slowly
past the house. Turning down the next road, Roy doubled back via the
alleyways and took up his position that offered a good vantage of the
front of the house.

It was several more
hours of nothing before he was relieved by the next shift. Grunting
a hello, Roy quickly retreated, heading to one of many telegraph
offices they used to report into headquarters.

Composing the telegraph
in his head as he walked, Roy made sure that no one was following him
by taking a long and winding route. Once at the telegraph office, he
apologized for the late hour and, yes it was a quick telegram. The
clerk relented and allowed Roy to fill out the sheet.

He
wrote: Mother
fine stop making progress with her illness stop Hopefully out of
hospital soon stop

He checked it over twice
to see if everything was okay. Handing it over he waited until it
was sent before would leave. That completed, he was free to head for
home. Double checking the street for any tails he may have picked
up, he stepped down on to the street, and turned for their quarters.

Closing the apartment
door snugly behind him, Roy quickly scanned the room for the other
occupants. The one room apartment was tiny for four guys but they
made do. Thankfully he was the only one home right now. Suddenly
too tired to bother with making supper, Roy placed the fresh
vegetables on the small counter in the kitchen and headed towards his
sleeping mat on the floor. Pulling off his turban and throwing it in
the coroner of the room, he flopped down on the mat.

Laying there, listening
to the sounds of people and life coming in from the window, Roy's
mind wandered. For some reason ever since he'd come here he was
horny, very horny. Roy couldn't understand it. He thought about the
girl he left behind in America. The way she smiled, how her hair
fell softly to her shoulders and the way she laughed. She had
promised to wait for him, but he had made no promise to her in
return. He could only imagine what was going through that girl's
head.

Then he thought about
the few disastrous times they had tried to have sex. Even when he
could keep it up long enough to think about having intercourse,
invariably at some point it would go all soft on him. His girlfriend
had been really understanding and helpful, probably because he was so
good looking.

Even though out high
school the other boys would talk about getting woodies and touching
girls boobs. He had remained uninterested in girls and his dick was
lifeless and unresponsive. Even when the girls threw themselves at
him, he didn't want anything to do with them. He'd rather study for
an exam then have a make out session.

So what was different
now? The heat? The food? Stroking himself guiltily through the
robe, he felt disgusted with himself. Masturbation was wrong, but if
he did nothing the pressure would get to be too much. It was a risk
lying here and touching himself like this. If any of his teammates
were to come home suddenly he'd be left unsatisfied for the rest of
the night.

Quickly then. He rolled
onto his side to hide himself in case his anyone should come home.
Slipping his hand inside his robe, he trailed his fingers down his
flat stomach and slid them under the band of his underwear. The
semi-hard length quickly coming to life as he dry stroked himself;
the added friction welcome to his over heated skin.

Wanting to drag it out
just a little bit, Roy ran his fingers over his balls, sending fresh
sensations down through his stomach. It was almost too much, this
light touch alone was almost enough to send him over the edge. Bring
his hand back to his erect length, he stroked from tip to base in
three rapid strokes, pausing between each one for just a moment.

The pressure built up to
an unbearable height, focused where his hand began to move faster.
One more hard stroke and it was done. The aftershocks making his
toes curl and his body stiffen. He listened for a moment for the
sound of approaching footsteps. When he heard none, he quickly got
up and went to the bathroom to clean himself and change his
underwear.

Now that he was more
relaxed, he lay back down on his mat. Hands pillowing his head, he
drifted off to sleep, content.

- - - -

The girl in his lap
burrowed deeper into the crook of his arm. Smiling down at her, Al
sighed at the lovely presence this child offered him. As scared as
they all were, this little girl gave Al so much comfort and he hadn't
even thought to ask her what her name was.

She couldn't be more
than five-years-old, so why would the army want to take her? It
didn't make sense to him. If what Macy said was true and the army
was gathering information on its populace, by whatever means
necessary, what on earth could a five-year-old have to offer?

They had been travailing
now for two days. The road was rough and bumpy with potholes the
size of small lakes filled with water from a rain not too long ago.
The driver made sure to drive through every one of the potholes,
splashing and jostling everyone for his amusement. It wasn't long,
that the gravely cackling of his laughter started to make everyone
grumpy and irritable.

Macy had been talking
the whole way. Some of it was useful like don't drink the water
unless it had been boiled. Other things he wasn't so sure of, like
people will do anything, and he really stressed the anything, for a
bit of food. The rest of the things Macy talked about were pure
nonsense, about how he was going to be rich and how he really liked
Al and his manners, not enough people with manners out there.

Through Macy he finally
learned the little girl's name; Isabella. The small girl would not
leave his side at all, stubbornly clinging to his hand at all times.
He didn't mind. He also learned that she had been travailing with
her mother to meet their father in Rome in order to immigrate to
America. They were going to start a farm in the state of Iowa and
live in a small, but nice, house and have chickens. After telling Al
this she would talk no more and just cried quietly in his arms until
she fell asleep.

After a while even Macy
ran out of things to say.

Their fourth day on the
road was drawing to a close and still they had yet to be fed. The
water they were given was dirty and smelled bad. It would cause
sickness for sure. The ancient old man was quickly fading and there
was nothing anyone would do for him. He refused all attempts from Al
to take water always smiling at him.

The truck swerved,
splashing though another large puddle; the spray landing on the bed
of the truck soaking everyone. Laughter could be heard coming from
the cab. Shaking his head, Al wiped the dirty water off his face.
The unexpected shower woke up Isabella and she was grumpily wiping
the water off as well.

As
the truck started to slow, Al leaned back over the side to see what
was ahead. A large black metal gate towered before them. It was at
least eight feet tall with wicked looking barbed wire on the top
facing in. All
the better to keep what's inside on the inside,
Al thought. The black gate absorbed the light and gave nothing back.
A large sign was painted across; a skull and cross bones. It was
very ominous looking, and it only served to heighten his anxiety.
Two guards came forward from their station and were pulling opening
the gate, waving the vehicle through.

Al watched as the gates
closed behind them with increasing dread. Panic threatened to
consume him when he heard the gate locked from the outside. Isabella
squirmed in his arms, pushing at his chest. Looking down, in horror,
he realized that he was squeezing her arms.

“Sorry,
Isabella,” he said, patting her on the head. Though they
couldn't understand one another, she nodded at him, solemnly. The
truck pulled up to a stop in front of a long building. Two soldiers
took up a position on either side of the truck bed, and began
motioning people to get off. Al jumped down, then turned around to
help Isabella to the ground. Hand in hand they moved to the side,
Macy joined them, relaxed and at ease.

They were made to line
up and after a moment they shuffled forward. Al and Isabella waited
their turn and followed the person in front of them. As they were
about to pass into the building a loud shout brought Al up short. As
the other passengers moved by him into the building Al noticed that
the ancient old man was still in the back of the truck. He was
smiling at the gun waving in his face, making no effort to move.

Al's eyes widened. He
had to stop this nonsense, he dropped Isabella's hand. After two
steps an arm wrapped around his chest, halting him. Paying it no
heed, he watched as the old man resisted all efforts to move him, so
the soldier did the next best thing. The rifle rested on his temple
and yet the old man continued to smile but this time he turned his
head, and smiled at Al.

His face was gone before
the sound of gunfire reached them. The gore splattered the cab and
the soldier. Gray matter flecked through the blood, sliding down the
cab in wet, messy, globs to rest in the truck bed. The body flopped
over with barely a sound. The soldier jumped out the back, laughing
at the state he was in and joking with his comrade as he flicked off
a bit of fleshy tissue from his face.

Al was being pulled
away, but his eyes wouldn't leave the body. Just before he was taken
inside the dead body twitched. The scream that had stuck in his
throat finally worked its way loose.

- - - -

The darkness pressed
down on him. Pulling his knees in close, he began to hum to keep it
from touching him. It was too quiet, it was too dark, it was too
scary. Little worms of worry heaved and squirmed in his belly making
him hum louder.

A hallway suddenly
stretched out before him. Wall sconces offered a faint wavering
light, lighting nothing but the immediate area round them. The
marble floor on which he was sitting was quickly getting cold.
Unsure what he wanted to do; stay or walk down the hallway, he
waited.

A whisper of sound
beckoned him, calling his name. Pulling his knees under him, he
listened for it again.

Fainter this time, it
called him. It was moving down the hallway away from him.

Upset and frightened
that it would leave him alone in the darkness, he got to his feet.
Tottering down the hall, he broke into a run.

“Wait,
I'm coming! Wait for me,” his small voice called.

The hallway continued to
stretch out in front of him, seeming to go on forever. The faint
sound drawing him forward, sweetly beckoning him to hurry. He was
getting scared now. His little legs could not keep up, and the sound
was getting faster, fainter. Sobbing, he tried to run harder. A
chubby hand reached up to scrub at the tears in his eyes.

“Edward....”
A light was becoming visible at the end of the hallway, growing in
strength. In its light his mother stood, holding out her arms.
Hiccupping large breaths, he slowed. His mother! She was whole
again. Smiling wide, his chubby hand scrubbed at new tears of
happiness.

“Edward...why
couldn't you make me right?” his mother asked. She dropped her
arms, and looked painfully sad.

“Huh...!”

His mother shifted. Her
face peeled tight making the skin around her mouth a grimace. The
flesh on her neck fell open exposing the interior of the throat as
the rest of her oozed and melted into the floor revealing her ribs.
As the degradation continued lower, her intestines burst forth and
spilled onto the floor with a wet splat.

“No...NO!”
he cried, squatting, Ed covered his ears and screwed his eyes shut to
block out the thick cord like organs falling to the floor.

With no muscles to hold
her upright, she collapsed to the floor with a soggy thud, spraying
Ed with hot blood. The heart lay exposed to the air, pumping away,
while the gooey mass of flesh heaved and pulsed with the effort to
move.

“Ah—Ed...war...d...help...meeee,”
the thing pleaded. The only part of his mother still whole, her
blood drench arm, reached out for her son.

“NOOOOOO!”
he screeched. “Ahhhaaa!” Edward thrashed and kicked.
Fighting against the dream, fighting against the memories, and
fighting to wake up.

“Doctor!”

“Hold
him down.”

“Be
careful of his ribs!”

“Aha...”
Edward went limp, finally awake. He snapped his eyes open to stare
at two men leaning over him in white uniforms. Breathing as deeply
as his ribs would allow, he frowned. The two orderlies pinning him
down released his torso and legs.

Blinking against the
stinging sweat falling into his eyes, Ed began to lift his left hand.
Puzzled when he came up short, he looked down the bed to find his
hand encased in a thick leather strap. Quickly rolling his head to
the other side he saw that his auto-mail was also strapped down. He
tested his right leg next, it too was restrained.

Anger and panic mixed
volatility as he tried to remember what had happened last. He tugged
again at his restraints, testing their strength. Panic won, and he
started yanking viciously. The two men dressed in white were back
and on him, pinning him to the bed again.

“Get
off me! Get off me, you shit!” Ed yelled at the top of his
lungs, flinging his head from side to side. “You've no RIGHT!”

“Hold
him still so I can inject him,” ordered someone loudly out of
sight.

“Let
me go! Rah—bastards! You wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't
tied down!” growled Ed, bucking his body to try to shake the
hold on his arms and legs; adrenaline making his ribs a secondary
concern.

The doctor approached
Ed's left arm, needle dripping an unknown substance. Ed glared at
the man, hate making him desperate. Left with only one weapon, Ed
tried to bite the Doctor's hand as he came close. The man in white
holding his upper body shifted his weight in order to free up his arm
and grabbed a hold of his chin, yanking it back and clicking his
teeth together.

The prick of the needle
in his upper bicep burned as the fluid was injected into his arm. Ed
growled low in his throat, unable to do anything to prevent it. The
effect was immediate. Lassitude flowed out from the injection point
making it difficult for Ed to move and think. He dimly noted the two
men release his arms and legs, but he was too out of it to make
anything of it.

“Now,
Edward, that's not any way to treat the people here who are only
trying to help you get better. Where are your manners?”
chastised the man who administered the needle.

All Ed could manage was
a slow blink in response.

“Your
attending doctor will be along shortly to speak with you. Just rest
quietly until then,” said the man, smiling patronizingly down
at Ed before moving off.

Coherent thought fled in
the wake of that very interesting piece of dirt on the ceiling that
he hadn't had time to notice before now. Time held no meaning to
him; the shadows shifted and made the dirt even more interesting.

“Edward...Edward,
over here.” Fingers snapped above his face. When that got no
response someone grabbed his chin and tilted his head to face the
speaker.

“Good
afternoon, Edward. Remember me? It's Dr. Marcoh. That was some bad
dream you had there.”

Ed tried to process
these fast flowing words but comprehension took a few minutes.
“Dr...Marcoh...?” His tongue felt fat and heavy in his
mouth.

“That's
right, Edward. Very good.” He patted Ed's arm encouragingly.
“Now, you remember the Seniore? He has an excellent eye for
rare things and he has taken an interest in you. Once you have
recovered from your injuries you'll be sent to visit him.”
Pulling up a chair he leaned over as he placed a note pad in his lap.
“Tell me about your dream, Edward.”

There was a long pause
before Edward finally managed to open his mouth. “No.”

Frowning at his
patient's resistance, Tim got up and looked at Ed's medical chart
attached to the end of his bed. Flipping through the pages to locate
the information he required. This didn't sound right.

“Nurse,”
he called, beckoning the woman over. “How long ago was he
injected?” He gestured to the chart.

“Twenty
minutes ago sir,” the woman replied.

“And
the dosage?”

She flipped a page,
scanning it. “10 milligrams, sir.”

“Yes,
yes, that's correct....but he's still resisting me.” Tim
thought about it for a moment. It was risky for the patients health
to go over 10 milligrams in under 2 hours and given Edward's height
and weight it would probably kill him. So, a second injection was
out of the question. “Thank you, Nurse.”

“Sir.”
She bobbed quickly and left to continue her duties.

“Okay
Edward, let's try this again.” He paused to collect his
thoughts; re-settling himself in the chair. Well if the dream was
blocked then maybe a change of subject would get things going.
Golden eyes watched him blankly. “So, how about you tell me
how you lost your arm and leg.”

“To
save....my....brother....had to...” A little bit a drool
dribbled down Edward chin from his slack mouth.

“Would
that be your brother Alphonse?” inquired Marcoh, looking down
at his pad where he began to take notes.

“Yes...”
said Ed with a sigh.

“How
would losing your arm and leg help your brother, Edward.”
Encouraged that he got such a quick response; he scooted his chair
closer.

“Lost
body...got it back...gave arm...and...leg.”

Well that didn't make
any sense. He jotted the response on the paper and tapped the pencil
against his lips as he tried to think of how to word his next
question. “Where was your brother's body?”

“In
the...gate.” Edward blinked at the way the lowering sunlight
flashed on the bed frame across the room. The burnished metal dully
reflected the light, making it into a star pattern. When Marcoh
shifted in the chair beside him, Edward redirected his gaze to the
man's shoe.

Another confusing
answer. Probably time for a change of tactics. Clearing his throat
he asked, “Who made these wonderful prosthetics for you,
Edward?” He ran a finger along the exposed auto-mail leg.
Manipulating the baby toe; amazing to see it respond and flex away
from his probing fingers.

“Winry...Rockbell...best...auto-mail...”
Edward watched avidly as the pencil swung back and forth over the
paper.

“And
where can she be found?” Marcoh asked, finishing his notes and
looking up at the man on the bed.

“Rizembool...”

Making
another notation he wrote beside it possibly
German?
“And
how is it you can move your fingers so well?” Edward's face
scrunched up thinking of his response. The minutes ticked by before
Tim understood that Edward maybe didn't know how they worked. Well
they had the name of the one who made it; so, on to the next topic.
“Never mind, Edward. That was a hard question. I'm sorry;
I've got an easier one for you. Were you ever in the military?”

“Yes...when
I...was...twelve...”

Twelve! Impossible. No
military would have children in its ranks! Maybe it was time to
stop. It seemed that the drugs were making him confused.

“Okay,
Edward. That's all for now. You can go to sleep.” Tim patted
Ed's arm once more and left him to his sleep off the drugs. It would
take several hours before he would be lucid again. Maybe he should
recommend that he be kept sedated. He looked up from his notes to
see an officer waiting at the entrance, and it seemed he was waiting
for him.

The
Seniore must be really impatient,
Tim thought, hurrying towards the young officer waiting at the end of
the ward. As he approached, he ripped the page off of the note pad
holding it out for to the solider. “This is all I could get
out of him today. Please let the Seniore know how hard we are all
working to get the information that he requires, as quickly as
possible.”

“Sir.”
The officer saluted. “I'm here to inform you that the Console
Generale (1) Giuseppe orders you to release the prisoner, Edward
Elric, forthwith and stop all lines of questioning. He is to be
transported to the capital with all documents and possessions
returned to him intact. All future surveillance is suspended until
further notice. That is all.” The officer saluted again; he
motioned the soldiers standing outside the ward to approach and
remove the patient.

--To Be Continued --
- 2
- 3
- 4
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A Little Light of Love