AN: This fic is probably going to be pretty dark. There's torture from the start and implied rape later on. I advise any reader to continue with this knowledge as I don't want to upset anybody.

Summary: Roy is captured and tortured and Edward willingly offers to help Mustang to recover from his injuries but he never expected how close they'd grow in that time or the risk that Roy's captors were to his own life and to the lives of everyone he cares for.

Rating: M - Check each chapter for the individual warnings about what it contains.

Warning: Torture.

Chapter 1

Above all else, he just wished and prayed for it all to stop. He didn't care if that meant death, he just wanted the constant agony to leave. There wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt and he couldn't pick out what hurt the most. Everything was screaming their complaints at him until it was white noise buzzing around in his aching mind. The room was cold and dim. A basement somewhere but he didn't know where. There were no windows, and only one door. A steel door that blended in with the grey walls and floor. The ceiling was at one point white, but it was dirty and tainted now, sections of it covered in soot. There was one bare light bulb hanging from the centre of the room, casting the corners in threatening darkness.

His arms screamed at him, begging for release. Thick, cold cuffs of metal – iron, if Roy was correct in thinking – held him from the ceiling. The bonds were tight and kept him from putting his feet on the floor beneath him. If he stretched, his toes could just brush against the cold tiles beneath him. A form of strappado, he supposed.

The door opened and Roy forced himself not to flinch. He had been conditioned into knowing that when that door opened he'd be in pain not long after it. Footsteps echoed out, loud against the silence that he'd almost adjusted too. A figure moved into his line of sight but Roy didn't lift his head. He felt too defeated to bother.

"Will you give us the information today, General?" A rough voice asked him. Over the days and through the torture, all the voices had meshed into the same, unisex unpleasant noise. Fingers brushed down the bare skin of Roy's chest and he shuddered at the pain and repulsion that coiled through him. Roy didn't answer. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't, his mouth was too dry and the words just wouldn't form. He didn't look up. A part of him knew that if he made eye contact, the man would take it as a challenge – much like how you're not meant to stare a dog in the eye. The fist connected with his jaw hard and his head snapped to the side. The movement caused his shoulders to shift and the strained muscles there burned in protest. The punch didn't hurt, not in comparison to his other wounds, but it had a rippling effect with the rest of his injuries.

A fist collided into his stomach and Roy gasped. As he did a hand reached from behind him, pushing something damp into his mouth. He hadn't even heard the second person enter the room and now he cursed himself for it. He choked on the thing in his mouth. A cloth as far as he could tell. It felt like he was drowning, even though he wasn't. Panic swelled up, making it more difficult to breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart pounding in his chest, the blood pumping loudly in his own ears. Another hard punch to the stomach made him double over – at least as far as his bonds would let him. The muscles in his arms and shoulders stretched, burning and screaming. He gasped for air from the attack, but was unable to because of the damp cloth. Tears stung his eyes but didn't slip past his lashes. Fingers in his mouth and he had to resist the urge to bite, to cause the bastard at least some pain for what he was doing. The cloth was removed and he found himself panting. Greedily gulping in lungful after lungful of dank air.

"Will you tell us what we want, General?" The first person spoke again. Roy didn't reply. What was the point? He wasn't going to tell them what they wanted. He wasn't about to sell out his country or team. A sigh – it was impossible to tell which one of them it came from – but Roy barely acknowledged it. He kept his head bowed. He was broken and defeated, but he wouldn't give them what they wanted. The first person looked over Roy's shoulder, nodding once and then giving Roy his full attention. The man scraped a filthy nail down Roy's cheek and he couldn't help but pull away with a small shudder. The man chuckled and turned his back to the general, walking over to the door. "It would make things easier for us all if you just told us, General." The man then left, and Roy almost relaxed before remembering the other man was still behind him.

There was a grunt from the man – as if he'd lifted something heavy, and then a liquid was poured over Roy's bare feet and soaked into his trouser legs. Petrol. Roy's heart jumped, and panic filled his senses again. He was about to protest; to say something; to stall the man long enough for him to think of a way out, but he heard the spark of a match and then a few moments later heard the agonized scream. His scream. The tears spilt then. Slipping past his lashes and dropping into the flames, sizzling into nothing. It felt like forever before the flames were put out. Ice cold water was thrown over him, making him shiver in his half dressed state. He made a shuddering sound that was dangerously close to a sob. Metal shined in the dim light and the blade sliced the flesh of his bare chest, making Roy hiss in pain. He shut his eyes, trying to will them to leave him alone to die in peace.

It could have been hours or days later, and Roy was still clinging to life despite himself, when the sound of gun fire rang out. He looked up at the door, the familiar noise out of place. In all the time he'd been here, there was never any guns used – thankfully. Raised voices, all familiar but he couldn't place any of them. Moments later there was a light – bright and brilliant and burning. Roy whimpered at it, shutting his eyes and turning away from the attack. The shouting and guns got instantly louder, and Roy knew that the door had opened with the light. He could smell it and the strong phosphorus smell was a calming familiarity. It was alchemy. An alchemist had come into his little prison. He wanted to move away, to curl up away from this new person. He couldn't of course and heavy footsteps ran over to him. Roy kept his eyes closed, trying to force himself to not panic, but it was difficult. He knew of the damage that could be done with alchemy. Hands on his face and he pulled away, hissing in pain at the movement.

"Mustang! Mustang look at me!" A familiar voice. It was worried, shouting at him. Roy opened his eyes, blinking a few times before recognizing Ed. Golden eyes searched his; hands on his face again. "We're getting you out. The team's out there. Hold on, kay?" With that Ed knelt down. The sound of the young alchemist's clap was loud in the empty room and Roy watched as Ed stifled a shudder before pressing his hands into the dried blood. The floor changed, rising up so that before long Roy was able to put his feet on it. Pain shot up his legs and he choked back a sob. Ed moved quickly, clapping again and transmuting the iron cuffs off of Roy's wrists.

The moment his wrists were free, Roy collapsed. Ed caught him and eased him to the ground. Roy's breath was coming in fast panting breaths and the pain was enough to cause tears to form again, he shut his eyes to stop them falling and tried to calm himself. He felt Ed shift slightly and then he was sitting cradled in the young man's arms. A human hand brushed Roy's dirty bangs from his face and then caught the single tear that had escaped.

"Shh. It's okay. We're here now. You're safe Roy." Ed's voice was gentle and Roy felt himself relax a little. If he was more coherent then he would have questioned why Ed cradled him so closely, or the worried, hurt way his voice sounded as he whispered comforts to him or why being held and soothed like this just felt so nice. But he wasn't that coherent and the relief that he felt threatened to overwhelm him. He wasn't even coherent enough to pick up on the fact that Edward had called him Roy instead of Mustang or bastard.

Ed's words seemed to help drown out the sounds of the fight that was going on in the other room. Ed had said that the team was all here, and Roy knew that they would win. With the skill of his men, his captors didn't stand a chance. Through the haze of pain he did wonder why Ed wasn't out in the fight. It wouldn't be that he'd been ordered away, the alchemist didn't follow orders – in fact, most of the time it felt as though Ed went against all orders just because he could. No, he hadn't been ordered away and it wasn't like Ed to flee from a battle. The reason for the young man's actions refused to come to Roy and he eventually shook the thought off. He was tired, and sore. He felt himself lose his grasp on reality and Ed's whispered words of comfort grew quieter until there was nothing. No sound, no light, and Roy didn't hesitate in letting the blackness claim him.

Roy gasped for air in the pause within the torture. He was on his knees, his hands tied behind his back tightly with a thick rope – too tightly, his fingers were losing feeling. Cold water soaked his hair and face and droplets ran down his neck making him shiver at their chill. He hadn't been here long, a few days – a week at most. They were being gentle with him for the moment. A voice roughly demanded information and Roy shook his head. How could he possibly give them what they wanted. His head was pushed back into the dirty, cold water. He squeezed his eyes shut, and only just managed to suppress a gasp at the chill of the water. His head was brought back up, just as he felt himself weaken. He was allowed only a few gasps of air that did nothing to satisfy the burning in his chest as his lungs ached for air, even the rank old air of his basement cell. He was finally released after he'd given up on struggling at all; when his body just decided not to bother trying to keep living. A hard kick to the ribs and he was allowed to collapse into an undignified heap by the water bucket. The water was removed – to ensure that he didn't succumb to his thirst and drink from it – and he was left soaking, cold and alone.

Roy opened his eyes slowly; it was almost painful. He was moving but in his sleep-fogged mind he couldn't figure out how. He was staring up at a roof, but it wasn't the roof of his basement room. He almost chuckled at that. His room. As if he'd chosen it. As if he wanted it. But it was his room. He'd been there for so long that it was beginning to feel like a sanctuary when he was left alone in it. Somewhere near Roy there was hushed talking. He couldn't pick up on the words but the sound was soothing and his eyelids fluttered closed again. The nightmares came to him again, they had been happening every time he was able to fall into this state - it wasn't sleep, not really. The nightmares varied but almost every one involved fire. They had used fire against him. They had made him fear his own element. When Roy opened his eyes again it was to the sound of a choked back scream. Someone's hands were on his shoulders, holding him down and rubbing careful circles in an attempt to calm him.

It took a moment for his eyes to focus, or for his mind to really pick up what he was seeing. A face that he knew was looking down at him, and Roy tried to pull away. He had grown to know all the faces of the men that were torturing him and now that meant that a familiar face didn't always mean safety. After a moment of struggling his mind caught up with him. A warm smile stayed on Hughes' face as Roy let himself relax a little.

"Hey there. Good to see you awake." Hughes offered to him when he saw that Roy had finally calmed down. "We're getting you to a hospital, but we've still got a bit to go yet until we're there." Hughes stopped talking then, as if waiting for Roy to say something. When the silence stretched out and Roy just watched his best friend, Maes shrugged. "We're all just glad that you're alive."

All? Who else was here? Roy glanced around his environment and realised he was in a van. The roof was the same one he'd looked at in his last trip into reality. He was lying on the floor of the van, but on a mattress. Blankets where carefully placed over him but he still felt cold. There was talking, and Roy turned towards the noise. His team were sitting around the sides of the van. Hawkeye and Havoc were chatting quietly while cleaning their guns in one corner and were closest to him – other than Maes who stayed at his side. In the furthest away corner of the van Breda and Fuery were sitting, talking to each other in low voices. Between them was Ed, who sat staring at the ground at his feet, his knees pulled up to his chest. Roy's confusion must have shown on his face because Maes followed his gaze before explaining.

"He blames himself. Who knows why. He's been amazing, Roy. It was Ed that found out where you were." The fondness in Maes' voice was obvious. Both Elric brothers meant a lot to everyone within the team, but Hughes had took a more fatherly role with them from the start. Roy watched the blonde for a while, letting his thoughts wander slightly.

As if sensing that he was being watched, Ed looked up, instantly meeting Roy's eyes. For a moment Ed's expression didn't change but then suddenly there was a brilliant smile that lit up the man's eyes. Roy felt the corners of his own mouth turn up in response. Edward stood up, unintentionally getting everyone's attention. He ignored it and stepped over Breda and Fuery with an enviable amount of grace for being in the back of a moving van. It was then that everyone turned to Roy. They all smiled, some greeting him as if he'd only just been away for a day but none of them moved to crowd him. Nobody except for Ed, who dropped down at his side, his smile sad now. Golden bangs fell into Ed's eyes but he didn't bother to brush them away. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated and then let out a sigh. He shifted slightly, glancing at Hughes. Maes seemed to understand Edward's silent request because he nodded and then went to join Hawkeye and Havoc. Roy narrowed his eyes at the strange behaviour and turned his attention back to Ed.

"Is it okay if I have you sit up?" Ed asked quietly. Once Roy had nodded his consent, the blonde gently eased him up into a sitting position and then sat behind him, silently allowing Roy to lean on him. Roy did and was surprised to find that the slightly awkward position was rather comfortable. A human arm wrapped around him, keeping him upright and lifting a bottle of water to his lips. Roy didn't hesitate and lifted a hand to gulp at the liquid. Ed made sure that he sipped it though – much to Roy's annoyance. When he'd finished the water, he felt Ed shift slightly and turned to see the young man with his back to the wall of the van. Roy slumped against him, exhausted. His head rested comfortably on Ed's shoulder, his face turned into Ed's neck. Roy was so distanced from reality by this point that he didn't notice the small shiver that shook Edward when Roy's breath caressed the soft skin of Ed's throat. "Are you okay? Do you want to lie down?" Ed asked gently but Roy shook his head a little.

"I'm fine, Ed." Roy mumbled, shutting his eyes. If he was honest, he was slightly uncomfortable and lying down would have hurt less, but he needed the contact. He needed to know that there was someone that he could touch and hold that wouldn't cause him pain. It didn't take long for Roy to fall into that bizarre sleep-like state that had become so common to him, but just before he did, Ed's whispered words sunk into his mind, only to be forgotten moments later.

"I'm sorry."