Subject: Edward Elric

Input 1: Milk

It was a bright, sunny day in Central Headquarters. The lower ranked officers would run around delivering messages and documents to the higher-ups, while the higher ranked officers signed away their names on said documents to be sent away again in due time.

Colonel Roy Mustang's office was not an exception. Well, maybe.

The lieutenants, warrant officer, and sergeant were lounging in the office, pretending to be working for the eyes of the other military officers that occasionally entered the room to deliver paper works, in stead of Riza Hawkeye, who had only sent Black Hayate with a message that she would be staying at home because of a sickness.

With the absence of the only woman and the only working officer in the room to keep them on their toes, the men in the office were bored out of their wits. And, as a way to relieve themselves from their boredom, they have started doing what every sensible military man did to pass his time (productively, of course): gossip. And gossip they did, until their random talk lead to another, and to another, until they arrived at their second boss; Edward Elric, and his nemesis, Milk.

"Why does he hate that, anyways?" said Havoc, trying to light another cigarette.

"He says that it's because it's been 'secreted' from a living thing." Answered Breda, as he played with his pen instead of using it to fill out the documents in front of him. "No one would want to drink it if he puts it that way."

Fuery, the only one who was actually working when he pretended to, spoke up. "I guess then it's just a way of seeing things," he paused momentarily, "but seriously, I heard that Ed doesn't drink milk because if makes him act strange."

Breda and Havoc's eyes twinkled as they picked up on the magic word. "How strange?"

"Strange, as in the way you act when you've drank about 5 galleons of alcohol."

Both lieutenants lost their twinkle as they leant back on their chair again. "No way, milk doesn't do that to you," said Breda, and Havoc continued. "Besides, Ed just doesn't like milk, not something like allergic to it."

"That's another thing," Fuery continued, looking absolutely serious. "People say that he hates milk because he gets all puffy when he gets it on his skin."

Falman joined the conversation. "Where did that come from?"

"I have no idea, but anything's possible with Boss." Said Jean, leaning back, cigarette not falling from his mouth. Everyone else looked at him as if he had gone crazy. "What? You've never dumped him with milk!"

At that moment Colonel Roy Mustang came out from his inner office, and stopped and stared as he heard the last sentence.

"What are we talking about? Dump who with what?"

Breda half-saluted the colonel and sat up. "Hey Chief. Have you finished your paperwork yet?"

"Hell no," smirked Roy, as he indicated the handful of ash in his ashtray. "So what are you talking about?"

"Dumping Boss with milk."

"Hah! That would be funny," said Roy, his smirk getting more wicked, as he thought about the short-tempered shrimp. "He'd freak out and start a killing spree." He started chuckling to himself until he realized that his subordinates were looking at him weirdly. He coughed. "What brought that up?"

"Well, Chief, you know that Boss hates milk, right?" Havoc looked at Roy as he started explaining the idea, with the cigarette still in his mouth. Roy nodded. "You also know that he keeps saying that he'd never get close to a bottle with a ten - feet pole?" Roy nodded again.

"So we're just talking about why he keeps away from it so much," Breda continued, crossing his fingers. "I mean, no one hates milk like he does."

Roy put his hand on his chin, mulling over the thought. "So… you think he's hiding something?"

"Yup. Probably something embarrassing," grinned Breda, "Or unusual."

"Like he starts burping bubbles." Suggested Fuery, chuckling.

"Or his face swells." Breda laughed.

"Or he starts sweating milk." Added Falman.

"Or he starts lapping up like it's honey." Said Havoc, laughing with the crowd.

Everyone stared at him again.

"What?"

Roy nodded, as he frowned in thought. "That… actually makes some sense." He said, his eyes getting a malicious gleam that Havoc decided that he didn't want anything to do with it.

"What?" Havoc repeated.

"See, what if he hates it because he loves it?" Roy explained. Everyone seemed to get the idea, as they 'aah'ed almost instantly, except for Havoc, who seemed to have his brain stopped in shock. He repeated again.

"What?"

Scowling, Roy turned directly towards Havoc as he explained his theory step by step. "He loves stew. Stew is made from two bottles of milk per serving," here he paused to watch Havoc's face. There was still no recognition. "He's short, and if he loves milk, he'll have to acknowledge that he's born short, and probably live the rest of his life short."

"Ah!!"

"So he keeps saying that he hates milk, and because of that people will assume that he's short because he hates milk!"

Breda grinned as he thought about the possibility. It was perfect! "So… if we provide him an opportunity -" his voice faded, and Falman took the sentence, completing it. "- he'll pretend that he hates it, but actually love it?" Mustang looked victorious, as he stood next to the desks with a smug smirk. Havoc mulled over the conclusion, and unconsciously spit out a dangerous word. "… Bull shit."

"What?" Mustang's voice turned dark. Thankfully, Havoc noticed.

"I-I mean, I don't think he would actually *love* it if we were to dump milk in his mouth or something." Mustang's face didn't lighten, but his scowl turned into a mischievous grin that sent a shiver down Havoc's spine. "Is that a bet?"

"Wha?"

Mustang walked over to Havoc's desk, slammed down a pack of money as he exclaimed, "I bet 550 cenz that he actually loves milk but hides it, just because he's short and too short-tempered to admit it."

"But-" Havoc paled.

"I agree with Chief, Havoc," added Breda, as he stood up and slammed down his pile of money on Havoc's desk. "And I bet 200 cenz on it, too!"

"I-" Havoc paled further as he tried to get away from the desk. He didn't even got out of his chair; however, as Mustang was holding the chair in so tightly that he thought he heard the wood splintering. He was doomed.

Fuery rose up, as he tried to defend Havoc. "But I'm sure Ed really doesn't like milk because he has some other, perfectly reasonable reason!!"

"So bet on it!" Exclaimed Breda and Mustang together. "Besides, if doesn't even make sense! He hates milk, but I don't see him complaining about hot chocolate, stew, or ice cream!"

"But I-" Havoc was ignored.

Fuery, true to his name suggests, exclaimed in fury. "Fine! 250 cenz! Falman!" he called upon the Warrant Officer.

"Guys-" Falman cut him again, as if he didn't hear the man. "150, against." Fuery yelled, "Too small!"

"200, no more."

"Deal!" Falman got up, placed his pack of money on Havoc's desk, and stepped away as the soldiers glared down at the man. Havoc was sweating bullets in his seat, unable to get away. "But I-" The glares got more intense, and Havoc secretly swore that he could feel a murderous gleam in Fuery's eyes. He sighed and bet all he had left in his wallet.

"320 cenz."

"Alright!" whooped Breda, and scooped the money up and piled them on Hawkeye's empty desk. Mustang smirked again and turned to the pale Havoc.

"Havoc, go get a bucket of milk."

The man called turned his head so fast that some heard his neck crack.

"A bucket?!" Mustang ignored the indignant yelp as he gave instructions to Fuery, Falman and Breda to hold on to Edward while he, bravely, poured milk down Ed's throat. After the instructions, he gave a small dismissive wave to Havoc to fetch the milk, and turned to Breda to get the Elric.

"He won't drink it!" Yelled Havoc, desperately trying to get out of the bet.

"So we'll make him." Said Mustang ever so simply, flashing his ever-so-innocent smile.

"He wont! And why do I have to go, when it's you guys who wanted to do the bet?!"

"Stop complaining, Havoc, or you forfeit your 320 and 500 additional senz." Said Mustang, as he turned his midnight black eyes towards Havoc's sky blue ones. "Besides, you pointed it out." Havoc's jaw almost dropped to the floor, but the man recovered and stumbled out the office, miserably looking for the Mess Hall kitchen.

Edward Elric stepped into what it seemed like was an empty office. Mustang was standing, leaning on the door to his office, with a suspicious looking bucket next to him, with a lid on top. Edward subconsciously rubbed at the itch near the area where the damn bee got him, trying to look natural. He felt his arm swell. Not good.

Edward made a noise, desperate to get the talk with the bastard over and done with so he could go to his dorm and sleep the itch off. Sleep cured everything.

"Hey, bastard. What do you wa-" Ed didn't get to finish his sentence, as Mustang yelled suddenly, "Get him!"

"Wha!?" Edward looked back, as he saw Breda, Falman and Fuery latch onto his automail arm, flesh arm and both legs respectively, and he stumbled back, tripping over Fuery and falling on his butt. All the while the three didn't let go.

"Getof-glurck!" Edward didn't have a chance to say anything as Mustang poured the content into his open mouth, dumping the whole content through a small opening in the lid. His mind froze at the smell, the taste of the liquid pouring into his mouth: milk.

He started thrashing, trying to get out of the three man's hold, as he felt the hated substance dribble down his chin, around his cheek, and to his horror, up his nose. He couldn't breathe, and Mustang kept pouring the cow juice into his mouth, his survival instincts to swallow the obstacle away.

He thrashed harder, and somehow managed to kick his right feet out of Fuery's arms, kick Mustang's shin, and kick back at Fuery's shoulder. The other two released immediately, retreating to the corner where Havoc was trying to hide, trembling in fear as he waited for Ed's wrath to reach him. Edward immediately started vomiting, white liquid pouring out, tinted green with stomach acid.

"Whoah!" grimaced Breda, as he saw a good litre of the milk pour out of the boy's mouth. Edward kept gagging, but the rest didn't come out. Edward kept coughing and gagging, his eyes straining with tears.

"Koff-cack! What- cough- hack! Koff – Urgh!" Ed finally stopped in his coughing, as he glared daggers at the men, huddled in the corner. His eyes found Mustang. "Why you!!" Edward lunged towards the corner, his hands outstretched like claws of a cat.

"Run for your lives!" Mustang yelled, running away from the hands, just escaping narrowly the death sentence.

"Yes SIR!" The men replied as they shot out of Ed's way as well, not wanting to die this early in their lives. Edward couldn't stop in time to avoid the meeting with the east wall, and slammed into it with a resounding BAM.

Edward kept coughing and sputtering, and stumbled towards the now grinning officers. He tried to stop himself from vomiting again, but his throat convulsed, accidentally letting out a loud burp.

Fuery blinked, as he stopped trying to move towards the exit and stared at the boy.

"Did he just-?"

He didn't get to finish the sentence, however, as the men saw Edward's face start swelling up like a balloon, starting from the cheeks. "Bleargh! Uh… uhh… " the officers started to laugh at the swelling shrimp, who was turning very red and very puffy.

"He does swell!" Cackled Breda, as he swiped a stray tear from the laughter.

Mustang was doubling over in laughter, as well. He got up again, laughing, and turned to Havoc, who was laughing as well, despite his previous reluctance. "Hahahah! I guess you win, Havoc!"

"Hey, is that …" sniffed Havoc, and said "snot?" before doubling over again in laughter.

In front of them, Edward had started to grope at his face, looking like he was trying to scratch out his eyes. His groans and yelps turned into guttural sounds, and his yells sounded tighter as his throat clenched in swollen muscles.

"Hahaheh… uhh… guys…?" said Havoc, the first to notice that the boy was not sounding like he had been before being fed all the milk.

Mustang stopped laughing as well, when he heard how Edward's coughs had become … wetter. The boy kept coughing, harder and harder, as if he was trying forcibly to dislodge something that was stuck in his throat.

"He… doesn't sound so well-"

Edward went into another coughing fit, stumbled back and dropped through the open doorway to Mustang's office, coughing up greenish slimes on the polished wood in the inner office.

"Argh! Gross! Is that mucus on my floor?!" shouted Mustang as he walked towards his office. He didn't dare get too close to the boy yet. "You'd better be able to clean that up, Full Metal!"

Havoc ventured into the office, and crouched next to Edward. "Ahh… Chief?" He tried to get Ed's hands away from his face, and called to his superior officer again. "His eyes are getting red…" He then proceeded to remove Ed's red and black jacket, as Edward seemed to try to rip them into pieces. Upon seeing the red rashes on Ed's arm, he pointed out the obvious. "Actually he's getting red all over…"

Edward seemed to open his mouth to yell something again, only to bend over again in a coughing fit. His mouth started dribbling in some unidentified liquid, and his eyes squint shut. His face showed clearly the pain, but no one was brave enough to approach the convulsing body.

"H-Hey Chief-" Havoc tried to get a hold of the boy, and his uniform got caught by the automail hand that was attached to the boy who was coughing a pair of lungs out.

Edward kept coughing, choking on his breath. After another great choke on air, Ed made a thick, gurgling sound, and his eyes opened a crack, showing red, sour eyes with dimmed amber pools. His head hung, and the automail became limp. By the time Ed's bangs touched the floor, everyone in the office was running towards the limp boy.

"Wha-woah Chief!" Breda took Edward from Havoc, and started slapping Ed's swollen cheek.

Mustang was snapped out of his shocked state as well. "What the- Full Metal!" He dashed next to Ed's side, crouching and moving his hand to Ed's nose. Mustang's mind froze over as his hand felt nothing.

"He isn't breathing!" The men started panicking.

"Do something!" Havoc was almost in hysterics. Mutang growled and pushed Breda out of the way. "Move!"

The Colonel positioned himself behind the limp boy and started doing what he remembered in his compulsory First Aid class in the academy. He wrapped his arms around the boy's waist and did the Heimlich maneuver, trying to get the boy to cough up the mucus that seemed to have blocked his trachea.

With a strong thrust, Edward coughed up a huge pile of goo and gasped in the precious air. "Cough! GASP!!" Mustang didn't let go of the boy, and in stead turned to Falman, who was the closest to his desk. "He's breathing again! Get an ambulance!"

Edward kept coughing up mucus, and his seizures were wasting him the precious little oxygen he could get in his system.

"Keep breathing Full Metal!" Mustang yelled as he felt the boy spasm and become limp again.

"Ed! Edward!" Mustang restarted the Heimlich maneuver but the boy didn't wake up.

"Ed!"

In the silent hall outside Ed's room, 5 military officers were sitting on the plastic benches, looking down at their feet, each feeling very, very miserable. They saw Alphonse getting out of the room, and crowded the armor.

"So… what's up with Boss?" Asked Havoc, fearing for the worst.

"Brother is… he…" Alphonse stumbled with his words for a few minutes, and then blurted out, "He's in a coma."

"What?!" the other five exclaimed. Mustang recovered and grabbed onto the chest plate of the armor. "I know about allergies, Alphonse! Food Allergies do not resort to coma! They are not even supposed to get to respirational problems!"

Al's red light dimmed. "He… We were playing with Elicia in the park… and he was stung by a bee that the doctors say he's allergic to before he came to HQ…" Mustang's face turned ashen, and Alphonse continued, still not looking at any of the officers, "and it turns out he was … allergic to milk… as well. They… the reactions got kind of constipated… and the bee venom and the lactase troubled his respiratory system… and it stopped the oxygen regulation to his brain for too long and… and…"

Havoc felt his legs about to give out, and leant onto the wall for support. He just felt so… guilty. About everything. He barely noticed Fuery stumble away from the door, get back to the seats and plop down, face in hands. Breda's face had turned white, and Falman's had darkened.

Mustang, on the other hand, was looking the worst. His eyes lost their usual gleam, and his face was pasty white with worry. He moved his hand away from Al's armor to rake his hair out of his eyes. "Wha… Why didn't you guys tell us?!"

Al kept his voice quiet, but the militants could hear the boy's voice and soul breaking. And it hurt. "I didn't know… I don't think Ed knew… I think Ed only knew about the milk…" Al's hands formed into fists, and released. "Ed never drank milk in front of me… He never drank milk… ever. Not even when … mother… was alive. I didn't know… I just … since he could eat stew without problems … I'm … we're sorry."

Mustang looked down to his boots. His mind was frozen, most part of it constantly wailing for his long lost friend, Hughes. He didn't look up, but put up a hand to stop the boy's apology. "Don't be. We're sorry. We didn't… We shouldn't have…"

Al didn't reply, and turned and went back inside the room, closing the door with a small 'click'. Breda, supported by Falman, moved away, towards the plastic chairs where Fuery could be heard almost sobbing. Mustang didn't move. Havoc picked the toothpick that he used for hospitals out of his mouth and glanced sadly at Mustang.

"Heh…" Havoc gave out a laugh that sounded dead. "We seriously fucked up this time, Chief."

He dropped the toothpick, wondering just how a boring day at the office turned out so tragic.

AN: *Evil cackle* And so begins Subject: Edward Elric. BD I've had this idea since forever, and I've been keep having this sort of way of thinking as I read other people's fanfiction… I just needed to vent. And vent I did. I probably will be continuing this without a set regime, cause inspiration comes and goes.

It'll be rated T for now, until I decide to write something gorier. It will mostly depend on how my brain works at which time, but I would accept suggestions, as long as they trigger something. I might go around in reviews of other fanfictions about asking for permission to use some ideas and twisting them, too.

I don't think there is any pairing, though Havoc's reaction seems to be a bit… off. D| Too protective, too shocked… But it's not. Though I'd love to be. But that is not the point. They'd be like brothers in this story, at most.

But anyways.

R&R, plz. Flamers will be destroyed by Deception, my alter ego in FMA.

Mrawgirl09