Enflamed Chapter 1: Aftermath, a fullmetal alchemist fanfic

Dear Readers,

I'm sure that all of you are familiar with the feeling of inspiration. All of us experience such joy at times. Whether we are inspired to draw, to paint, to create, or to write, inspiration brings us joy as it helps us do what we hadn't thought possible before. This piece was created under such an influence.

Although I love to write, this is my first FMA fanfiction, and because I just started watching the series, I will appologize in advance if I managed to get some details wrong. But because this brought me joy as I was writing it, and because it is indeed a fanfiction, I can only hope that you will understand such errors.

Before you read farther, this story contains possible relationships between two men (yaoi). If you are uncomfortable with such pairings, then please don't read on. It is not my intention to make anyone uncomfortable, so I am writing this warning in advance. This story also contains violence, strong language, blood, and graphic language and descriptions that some may find unpleasant. If you are uncomfortable with such themes, then please be warned.

DISCLAIMER: All character of Full Metal Alchemist manga, anime, or series do not belong to me. Thank you.

Enflamed

Chapter 1 – The Aftermath

He wasn't certain how long he'd been chasing them – throwing blast after blast of transmutated material at them in the irrational hope of hitting flesh. The charge that was blasting through him put his body through an entirely new level of pain and agony. He had never felt so powerful and yet so helpless at the same time. Tear. Smash. Pierce. Cut. Burn. Anything, as long as it harmed his enemies. The drive to kill had never been as strong as it was now. He was aware of them turning at times – was aware of them somehow landing hits and being hit at the same time, but couldn't stop. His vision was a red haze. His limbs vibrating and his heart so full of pain that he thought it would burst at the seams. Mind empty, he suddenly wasn't certain why he was chasing after these creatures. His only thoughts were those of desire to see blood spilled.

At last, he felt the clutches of the power wearing thinner and thinner. His thoughts were gaining clarity, and with that clarity came the realization of his limits. Right arm broken and useless. Left leg buckling and refusing to hold his weight. Side torn open. Blood oozing from a splayed open muscle on his shoulder. Falling, at last, to his knees, he dimly heard their voices as they retreated. Al…where was Al?He needed to get his body back; he was broken; he was in trouble. Al! Al, where was he? Rememberance. Probably still in that horrid room – full of things that were deformed, grotesque, mutilated by the perverse desire for power.

The world spun out of control as his vision focussed. Yellow eyes met dirty concrete walls. The ground was pressing up against his body – pushing and pushing as if it wanted to throw him off of itself. That was impossible, wasn't it? If it was, then why was everything whirling around? Up. Down. What were those things? What were their definitions? Red. Blue. Purple. Red.Red? Blood. So much blood. He felt its wetness against his cheek. Am I dying? No. That couldn't be.

"D-Damn it all…" He couldn't die. There were things he had to do. Al was still alive, and as long as he was still alive, the chance to return what Edward had so cruely stolen was still alive. Upon his life he had vowed to bring his brother's body back to him, and he couldn't die before that oath was fulfilled. With strength he didn't think he had, he moved his automail leg beneath him and pushed himself to his knees. Words left him. He didn't have the strength to say them. Desperation swelled.

He had to find Al.

It became a litany. Suddenly, finding his brother was all that mattered. He had been so badly damaged. But before he could completely stand, a force knocked him back down. The horrid feeling of losing control over his own body nearly made him ill as his temple connected violently with the ground. He was losing his senses.

"Al…no…"

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"What do you mean he's not there?"

Major Armstrong winced, hearing the restrained anger in the Fuhrer's voice. His hand firmly pressed to his forehead in a salut, the Major made sure to sound calm despite his own concerns. He explained that upon finding the room where the suspected material for the red stone was located, they had found the large chamber empty except for about twenty convicts who were all huddled, shivering, in a corner.

"He must have left…" Luitenant Ross said uncertainly. "But why would he…?"

The Fuhrer's brow furrowed. Luitenant Bloch turned dazed eyes to Ross. They were all dazed. Why shouldn't they be? The things they saw in that room were disturbing enough to touch all of their already raw nerves.

"What if he chased after someone? The room is in shambles. Obviously, there was a fight."

"Were the convicts questioned?" Major Armstrong asked.

Bloch shook his head in a negative gesture. Ross put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in close, lowering her voice.

"We don't have time. He may be seriously hurt. We have to find him." Major Armstrong agreed. He turned back to the Fuhrer, bowing his head.

"Permission to -"

"Go. Find him quickly."

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Silence had never bothered him before. The absence of sound had always brought peace with it – a comfortable lifting of the burden that daily life brought. For once, there was no ringing phone, no orders to be issued, nor any of the other distractions that seemed to have become a normal part of his office. He should have been enjoying the calm atmosphere, for now he could finally focus on the paperwork in front of him. Reports had to be filed, letters had to be sealed, and only a divine force could save him now from all the rest of the documents he had to read through before he reached the bottom of the accursed pile of parchment.

He should have enjoyed the silence.

But he did not.

Blame it on his earlier phone call to Hughes. Blame it on the man's strained voice. Blame it on the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Wherever he wanted to lay the blame, he couldn't rid himself of the chilling suspicion that something had gone wrong in Central. Hughes did not make it a habit to leave out important information when Mustang inquired on it, and thus he wanted to trust the man's word this time. But something…something…nagged. A knock at the door. He bade the intruder to enter. Hawkeye stood at the entrance, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. She grinned.

"Thought you may be getting lonely. Need me to keep you company?"

Mustang's lips curved up into a smirk.

"Lonely? Why would you say that?"

A laugh from the Luitenant. "Somehow, I don't think the look you were giving the papers just now was very friendly, and I believe that I can safely say that you're in the mood to burn something."

"Hughes, maybe." His smile turned bitter.

"Did he make you sour again?"

"That phone call…"

"You think he's hiding something?"

A beat.

"Perhaps."

Hawkeye looked away, placing a finger under her chin. She leaned against Roy's desk, crossing one leg over the other. If it has anything to do with the Elrics, I could see his motive to keep anything bad out of the conversation… Stealing a look at the Flame, she wasn't surprised. The alchemist looked to be in a foul mood indeed.

"He didn't answer the phone when I called."

"You called?"

"I did."

"He wasn't home?"

"He wasn't anywhere."

"Shit."

"I agree."

The phone rang so suddenly, that both Hawkeye and Mustang jumped. In a flash, the reciever was in Roy's hand. His tone was brutal.

"Hughes…"

Riza heard a muffled voice on the other side of the line and frowned. The man sounded serious for once, and she immediately understood that something was wrong. Her stance stiffened at about the same time that Roy straightened up from his previously laid back position.

"They what?"

That tone didn't sound good.

"How?"

More muffled talking.

"That fool!"

Riza nearly jumped out of her skin when Roy's hand slammed down upon the wooden table with enough force to make it shudder.

"You lost him?"

A violent curse left his lips – so violent that Riza knew something was about to be destroyed. A weary sigh escaped him. It had been a while since Riza had seem him look so fazed.

"Just find him. The earliest I can be there is tomorrow morning."

She could only be grateful that the phone stayed in tact when the reciever made a powerful impact with the main body of the machine. Poor thing. But it was probably already used to the abuse by now. She wouldn't ask what happened. Roy would tell her if he felt the need to. Sure enough, she was correct. Reclining back into his seat, the Colonel looked so worn out that she had no doubts that the matter involved the Elrics in some way.

"You are correct, Luitenant." He had read her thoughts, as always. Was she so transparent? She would have liked to believe that they simply had much in common; that their thoughts were identical in many aspects. If she believed that, then some kind of connection could be formed between them on a deeper level than military rank could provide. "It seems that the Elric brothers broke into the abandoned Laboratory Five."

"Lab Five? It rings a bell."

"It in the darker part of Central." Reaching forward, he opened a drawer and pulled out several maps. Unfurling one, he pointed to what he was talking about. "There's a prison about a block away from it."

"I'm guessing that there's more to it than meets the eye."

Mustang let out a sound of sarcastic impatience.

"The Fuhrer sent in some troops to investigate. They must have realized that the Elrics had gone there to do their own digging. Once they broke in, they found a bunch of mutilated corpses and convicts wandering around the complex."

But what could it all mean? She knew that there was no way Hughes could have told Mustang about anything more detailed in their brief phone conversation. A chill was running down her spine. Mutilated corpses? Convicts? What was Edward looking for when he went into that laboratory?

"What about Edward?" She inquired nervously.

"There was a fight. They can't locate him, although they found the younger one badly damaged. I can only imagine what that brat had gotten himself into now."

That brat…he said the name so casually, that anyone else would have been fooled into believing that the child meant nothing more than an annoying liability to the Colonel. Yet as she watched Roy run an impatient hand through his hair, she knew better than that.

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It took nearly two hours to locate the older Elric brother. Ross found him lying face-down in a darkened alley about ten minutes distance from the laboratory, blood running inbetween the cobblestones of the street. At first, such terror siezed her, that she nearly dropped her weapon in her haste to get to him. He was white as a bleeched bed sheet, his breathing so shallow that she almost missed its sound. Bending down, she didn't hesitate in lifting him into her arms. Blood coated his clothing in disturbing quantities, and she knew that if she didn't hurry back, there was a strong chance that he would die. She was shocked when he stirred, opening his eyes to reveal drastically dilated pupils. His voice raspy, he spoke.

"Al…where are…I have to…"

"Don't worry, Sir. He's alright."

"Al?" His concern for his brother in light of his own injuries sent a wave of unfamiliar tenderness through her heart. Pressing him close with a look of anguish and concern, she reached into her emergency pack for a signal flare. Pulling the trigger, she sent a fiery flame rushing upwards. The others were bound to see it.

"Just hang in there, Sir. Stay with me."

"…my fault…Al is…" His eyes drifted shut again. The stickiness of his blood was starting to penetrate through her clothes too. In a fluid motion, she put him down him down, tearing open his jacket where the most blood drenched the material. Reaching into her pouch once more, she found a roll of bandages. Even though she knew it wouldn't be much help, she still unrolled it, wadding it together and pressing it to the horrid gash on his skin.

Hurry…hurry…someone please get here…please hurry…

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It seemed like centuries before Ross heard the screeching of wheels on pavement. The military car drove right up to them, so close that Ross feared getting run over. Hughes jumped out of the front seat, immediately leaning down to examine the fallen boy. It was apparent that the sight of his condition had shocked him just as badly as it had shocked her.

"Ed! Ed! Say something, damn it!" When the boy didn't respond, the man's eyes widened. Already, however, medics were rushing in from all sides, asking Hughes to move aside so that they could get the boy onto a stretcher. Stepping back to give them some room, Ross found herself standing next to Hughes. He looked down at his bloody fingertips silently. As if he could feel her tention, he put one of his hands on her shoulder.

"The kid will be fine. He's stubborn. He'll pull through."

Another car screeched to a halt beside the other, and Armstrong emerged from the back door. He watched as the medics loaded Fullmetal into the side of the van. Their eyes made contact, and by the expression on the huge man's face, Ross realized that her own features must look dreadful.

"Need a ride?" Hughes asked. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to answer. As she watched Hughes get into the medical car and drive off, she could only hope that his confidence in the boy's strength was not misplaced.

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