Hello everyone! Pojo-san here! How is everybody? Okay just a few things before we get started so please bear with me:

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters if I did then it would be chalk so full of yaoi goodness that it would be considered extremely adult. If that happened then it would never have left Japan, and then we would never have enjoyed the show... good thing I don't own it, right?

Warnings: adult content and situations, language (thanks to Edward's dirty mouth), and self-mutilation (and that's just for this chapter more warnings later on)

Chapter 1

The Color Red

"The tongue like a sharp knife... Kills without drawing blood." --Buddha saying

Red truly is a beautiful color. It screams so many emotions all at once. Anger, fire, war, passion… so many things can be linked to this one wonderful color. Then there is black, the misunderstood mysterious color of comfort. Equal in majesty and beauty to red. When put together they create the most breathtaking color. The perfect color. No wonder it's the color of life. No wonder it pumps through the veins of all living things. I can't help but watch in morbid fascination as the color drips from my arm. When it hits water, I stare in awe as it twists and turns like a beautiful dancer enticing me to come closer. However, whenever I reach out to touch, she runs away, leaving me alone in the silence. I have always wondered what it would be like to see it from underwater. I wonder if it would look like liquid fire rising up in the sky. I long to go home and see that breathtaking color that has me so fascinated. Red truly is a beautiful color…

Edward

Ed smiled in satisfaction. He did not know what had come over him. Maybe this would be his journal entry for today.

Oh, I need to date it and then I get to go home, he thought as he quickly wrote "Oct.1" at the top of the page, but right when he stood, Hawkeye swooped down on him like he was a mouse coming out of hiding.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked coolly.

"Home," he stated blandly as he slid his journal into his desk drawer. It would probably be safer at his place of residence, but he did not need to worry because everyone at the office would think that it was his alchemy notes.

He eyed the woman. She had blonde hair like him, but her color reminded him of a highlighter while his was more like wheat. Her eyes were a curious blend of red and brown, making it burgundy, and they dared anyone to defy her authority, while his were more like amber or topaz, and they were always glued to a book.

"You need to finish your work." She pointed at the small stack of papers that sat on his desk.

"I'll do them tomorrow," he said dismissively.

"No, you'll do them now," she ordered. He grumbled and sat back down. He wanted to ask her why he needed to finish it if it was due in two days, but he knew better than to cross Lt. Riza Hawkeye. He held his tongue, picked up his pen, and tried to get through the last remnants of his work as fast as he could. "Don't think you can take a break, Colonel," she snapped at Colonel Roy Mustang.

"But my hand is starting to cramp," whined Mustang as he held his limp hand.

"You'll live," she said unsympathetically. Ed signed the last paper and stood.

"Done. Bye," said Edward, and he strode out of the suffocating office. Hawkeye picked up the finished work, and turned to see a look of concern on the Colonel's normally stoic face. The look quickly faded from his features as he bent over his work once more. She walked to his side.

"Roy, are you okay?" she asked her ebony-haired childhood friend. He looked up at her with midnight sky eyes, which matched his hair, and smiled a true smile that was only reserved for the two closest to him. One now because the other had died a few months ago. That smile made her heart do sprints.

"I'm fine Riza. I was just thinking about something," he said softly, shifting his gaze back to his work.

"May I ask what you were thinking about?" she asked. He was silent for minute, debating whether or not to disclose to her what was on his mind. He decided that he should.

"Have you been noticing strange things lately about him? About Fullmetal, I mean?" he asked quietly, so that the others in the office could not hear. It was her turn to be silent as she combed through her own memory.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it's your imagination." She clapped him on his shoulder and switched back to office mode. "Now, I gave you enough of a break. You need to finish those papers by tomorrow." She went back to her desk and to her own stack of papers. Mustang thought that maybe she was right, and that maybe it was his imagination. He hoped that she was right.

Ed walked briskly into his apartment that was close to the base. He hurriedly put the key inside the lock and twisted it, eagerly seeking the warmth that was guaranteed to protect him from the cold. It was dark and silent. The sun had already set on the other side of the complex, and he would get the first rays of the next day in the morning. He looked around, trying to penetrate the comforting darkness in search of someone. There was no sign of the cheery, younger Elric Brother. He did not live here anymore.

He left.

Al had left him and returned to their hometown of Resembool to live with Winry, their childhood friend, and "Granny" Pinako. Alphonse did not need him anymore. He has his body back now and a life. He was no longer bound to his older brother like he used to be, he was free. Edward was no longer needed. He no longer has a purpose. He sighed and reached out for the light switch next to the door. His hand faltered and fell to his side once again. He did not need the ceiling light. He stumbled to his couch, which had a lamp next to it, with the aid of the light from the streetlights below. He turned the knob twice for the medium light to flood as much of his small apartment as it could. His apartment had simple off-white carpet that covered most of the place. To the right, in the corner, was a kitchen with hardwood floors and only one chair at the table. To the left was his bedroom that attached to the linoleum floored bathroom. In there was a simple sink and the standard tub/shower combo. In his living room, there was a red fabric couch, the lamp, a coffee table and two bookshelves along the wall next to the door.

He sighed, plopped himself on the couch, picked up a book that was sitting on the small table in front of him, and read where he left off. After he read the book, he picked up another book from his shelves, and read that one as well. After a few hours, he pulled himself out of the world that book had created for him, and checked his silver watch. It was past midnight. He got up and changed into his black pajama pants and long sleeved top. He sat on the only bed in the place, resting his chin on his balled fists that he propped up on his legs. He stared at a wall for a few minutes before he swung his legs up on the bed.

Sleep never came easy for Edward. He tossed and turned, readjusted his pillows, and, just when sleep was finally within his grasp, he would awaken shortly after he fell asleep. The routine continued for three hours before he just gave up. He rolled over and stared at the alarm clock who innocently told him the time.

Dammit! I have to get up in a few hours! he yelled into his mind. A trickling stream of curse words fell from his mouth as he sat up. His mind was so restless. His thoughts chased away any sleep and ran rampant. He wished Al was here. Then he could be comforted by the gentle voice of his little brother, a voice that could soothe the most savage of beasts. This thought woke up the dark side of him, the side that lived in the hearts of everyone, and the one that always whispered into someone's ear words that blackened their thoughts.

It was your fault that he left in the first place, said the creature. Edward ignored it. If he gave it attention, then he would only be encouraging his own guilty insanity. On the other hand, if he did not, then it might never shut up. He went to his bathroom and splashed water on his face to clear his head. When he pulled the towel away from his damp skin, his heart stopped.

The person that stared back at him was not him. This person was not a man, but a woman with dark skin, dark hair and rose pink bangs. He remembered that those eyes once held kindness and fiery passion, but now they were abused, broken, and silent.

"Rose…" he faintly mumbled knowing full well that he was doing exactly what his dark side wanted. He reached out a hand to touch the face, but halted as the image flinched away from him. She glared at him with pure hatred. He pulled his hand back and turned his head away from the image. He heard a ghostly chuckle. When he stared back at the mirror, he saw his own reflection staring back at him with a cold uncaring smirk.

Poor girl… said his reflection.

"No…No! It wasn't my fault!" Ed knew what dark road this was heading on.

Poor, poor girl. The reflection continued on like it had never heard him. How could this have happen to such a lovely desert bloom? Do you remember what she was like before you destroyed her life? She was so beautiful, so sweet and innocent, but now look at her. Wasting away to nothing… Its lips curved upward into a sadistic smile as it sensed Ed's distress. He started shaking his head in denial. It was your fault.

"No it wasn't!" cried Ed. His mirror world version pretended to not have heard him again.

She was happy before you came along. It raised a hand and pointed one of its fingers at him. You brought war to the doorstep of her town. She was beaten, abused, and raped by the same military that you serve. Now she has to take care of the thing that represents those times. His resolve was cracking under the pressure. The smile was now ear to ear and seemed to split the face in half. It smelled victory.

You might as well have raped her yourself. She hates you…

"Shut the fuck up!" Ed screeched as he pulled back his fist. The reflection cracked as his flesh hand collided with the hard glass. Broken shards clattered onto the sink and floor. It was silent now. The only sound that could be heard was his ragged breathing, and the image in the now broken mirror was his own, for now. He dislodged his hand from the mirror and examined it. It was torn up badly. Blood and glass shards were everywhere. There were two large pieces embedded into his flesh. One was between the knuckles of his ring and middle finger, and the other was on the side of his hand closer toward his thumb.

He cradled his wounded hand against his chest as he slid down the wall next to the sink. He chuckled darkly. Maybe he could finally get some sleep. He stared down at the mess beside him, and it glittered back at him in the fluorescent light. He stood, grabbed the first aid kit and a bowl, and got to work. He forced his hand to stay still as he gently picked out each shard. When he was done, he put rubbing alcohol on it. He hissed as the chemical both burned and cleansed the wounds. He finally wrapped it all up in bandages. He went back to the bathroom, with the bowl in hand, and gathered up all of the glass. He placed the bowl next to the mirror's metal frame and clapped his hands. A shock went through his whole system that was soon followed by a shot of adrenaline as the energy gathered into his hands, and escaped into the broken glass. There was a flash of bright light as the mirror mended itself. Edward examined his handy work, and checked the surrounding area for any glass that he might have missed. When he deemed the area clear, he put the bowl back where it belonged and dropped himself on his couch.

Well, that killed some time, thought Ed.

Why had he not seen it before? How could he have been so blind? He mentally kicked himself in the face. Mustang had stayed up half the night pondering about Ed, trying to figure out what was different. He still believed that Hawkeye was right about it being his imagination, but the feeling did not go away. The next day, he watched Fullmetal for almost two hours, observing every subtle movement that he made, before it clicked into place. Edward was hiding something. Jean Havoc noticed his boss staring off into space.

"Sir? You in there?" asked Havoc, who stared him with curious azure eyes. His own hair was blonde hair reminded Mustang of Edward's color, wheat and honey.

"I'm fine, Havoc." responded Mustang. Now that he knew what to look for, or should he say what not to look for, he started to see many things about Fullmetal, and he did not like what he saw. He snuck another glance at him before starting his own work.

Why does he keep staring at me? Ed thought to himself as he noticed the Colonel's glance at him from the corner of his eye. It's starting to creep me out a bit. Edward fidgeted under the man's gaze whenever he felt it, and he soon had enough. It was starting to get very uncomfortable. He mumbled an excuse about needing to do some research, and left as fast as he could without running. Once he reached the library he gave a sigh of relief. He was rarely disturbed here. He pulled a few books off the shelves and huddled at a table in the back of the building.

Time slowly crawled by as he became engrossed in his research. When he picked up another book to cross reference a piece of information, he felt a sharp pain in his left hand. There was a loud thump as the book landed back on the table. He gingerly pressed his steel thumb against his palm until he felt a dull pain. He sighed as his logic told him that he did not get all of glass out of his hand. He draped his coat over the back of his chair, went to the bathroom, and locked the door. After he carefully peeled off both his glove and the tape of his bandages, he examined his hand closely.

His hand was a horrible mess and was still bleeding in a few places. It was going to leave one hell of a scar when it was done healing. After a bit of searching, he managed to separate the affectionate little shard of glass from his hand. He redid his bandages and replaced the glove.

Mustang flipped through one of Ed's books absent mindedly, waiting patiently for the teen to return. He did not have to wait long though because he soon heard the sound of Edward's uneven footsteps approaching.

"What are you doing here?" Ed asked. Mustang looked over his shoulder, and saw him standing near one of the tall bookshelves with his arms folded across his chest.

"Are you saying that I can't visit one of my subordinates for a pleasant conversation?" said Mustang politely, placing the book back down on the table. He turned around completely as Ed rolled his eyes and strode forward as he shoved a hand in a pocket.

"Well, what do you want?" he shot back blandly, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Roy sighed and pulled out a stack of papers from inside his black jacket.

"I wanted to give these to you. If you don't want to get shot by Hawkeye, I highly recommend you do them before you go home." He held out the papers for Fullmetal to take but, of course, he had an ulterior motive for this. He needed to examine the boy up close without making the situation awkward. He knew one sure fire way of doing it, but he did not feel like going to jail. This was easier.

Ed approached Roy, and the suspicions that he had been cataloguing in the morning were confirmed. The boy had lost quite a bit of weight. His clothes were hanging off his body as if they were draped, but when he had his red coat on, which was large by itself, covered that fact up. There were small bags under his eyes, and the eyes themselves were dead. They were dull and lifeless; the fire of determination that Roy had always seen whenever he looked into them had been put out.

"Hey, Mustang! Are you in there?" Roy was snapped out of his daze as a white gloved hand waved across his face.

"It's almost lunchtime, isn't it? Do you want to get something to eat?" he asked, effectively catching Edward off guard.

"Huh?" responded Ed in confusion.

"I said do you want—"

"I heard you the first time!"

"Then why did you need me to repeat it a second time?" Roy smirked.

"I didn't need you to say it again."

"You sure acted like it."

"Fuck you, you bastard!" Ed screamed.

A mischievous glint shone in Mustang's dark eyes. He placed his hands on his hips, leaned forward until he was almost eye level with Edward, placed his trademark smirk on his lips, and spoke quietly so that only the two of them could hear what was being said.

"When, where, and what position?" said the Flame Alchemist, licking his lips suggestively.

It took all of his self-control to choke back his laughter. The look on Edward's face was priceless. It was mix of shock and bewilderment, and it took a moment for the gears in his head to start turning again before he could form a response. Even then, he was having trouble making a single word come out correctly.

"Wha-wha-what?! You sick old pervert!" That shout was music to Roy's ears and his snickering quieted down.

"Come, let's go," He stated, turning to leave.

"Hey, I didn't agree to go!" protested Ed.

"Well, I'm hungry."

"Well, I'm not, so go eat by yourself."

"Your appetite is no great mystery to me."

"Seriously, I'm not hungry," muttered Ed. "Just go without me. Don't waste your money on me." He pulled out his chair and went back to his research with a somber expression. Roy stood still, contemplating. After seeing the boy's condition, he felt the need to get some food into that anorexic body of his. Being that thin was not good for anyone. "I thought you were hungry. What are still doing here?"

"Never thought you would pass up the opportunity to get free food," lied Mustang. "But still, you're coming with me." He grabbed Ed and his red coat, and half dragged him out of the library.

"Wait a second! I said I'm not going!" Ed started to struggle against his superior's grasp. He had never realized how strong the raven haired man was.

"If you have lunch with me, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day." Mustang promised manipulatively. The youth stopped moving and glared at him, studying him for any hint of deception.

"You promise?"

"Yes."

"Let's go." With, that Edward led the way out of the building.

"So what is this place?" asked Edward as he looked at the building. The place was a small Ma and Pa restaurant, and gave off a homely feeling.

"It is a teashop called The Kettle, Fullmetal. The name is on the sign there," said Mustang as he indicated a hanging sign above the doorway that was in the shape of a tea kettle with yellow writing on it. "Or maybe you can't read it because of the small print."

Three…two and a half…

"Who are you calling so small that a period could crush him?!?!" screeched Edward, and few bystanders stopped in mid-step when they heard him shout.

"You," said Mustang with a smirk.

"You are so infuriating!" he growled

"I try," the Colonel replied as he held the door open for him. Inside, there were old wooden chairs, and cast iron lamps hung on the walls. On the far wall there was a tall blue hutch that held teapots, cups, and candied fruit; right in front of them was a glass counter-case filled with jams, jellies, and every single cake possible. Ed made his way to the case to drool over the cakes. There was white, chocolate, cheesecake, carrot, Angel Food, Moist, Drachma Tower, Sponge, Cretan Ice, and Xing Dragon cake. They all looked so good. There was pie too. Apple, cherry, blueberry, raspberry, pumpkin, blackberry—

"Fullmetal, don't make all of the desserts soggy," said Mustang from behind him.

He straightened up and followed Mustang and the hostess to a table. Once they ordered their drinks, silence descended on them. Edward should not have come here, he could feel it in his gut, and his gut had never lied to him before. He hunted his mind for a topic to talk about.

"So, how did you find this place?" he asked as he read at the menu.

"I stumbled upon it one day," replied the other man. "I like it. Good food, nice people, quiet, and it's out of the way." Silence fell on them once again, and was only broken when their waitress came to take their orders. "That's all you're having? A sandwich?"

"I told you, I'm not hungry," said Ed as his eyes drifted around the room.

Mustang sighed and took a sip of his honey tea. Another silence fell on them.

"So what are you researching now?" asked the Colonel in an attempt to make conversation.

"Sound Pressure Alchemy." said Ed as he stirred the contents of his drink.

"Sound Pressure?"

"Yeah. I'm trying to figure out how to concentrate it in an open area without harming the surrounding area."

"I never heard of this branch of alchemy before."

"That's because it's fairly new. I should know. I discovered it." Ed was always the prodigy.

"Well, can you explain some of this to me?" Mustang was genuinely curious now.

"You know that sound produces a small amount of pressure as its waves go through a medium, correct?"

"Correct. That's because it compresses the molecules in the air as it moves."

"Yes. So if you increase the decibels that the sound is producing, then more pressure is made. I was trying to get more information before I told anyone, but what can you do about it?" Their food came, a bowl of soup and salad for Mustang and a small ham and cheese sandwich for Edward. They ate in silence. The older male was expecting the younger one to wolf down his food like everything else that he ate but on the contrary. He meekly nibbled his food as he stared down at his plate with a pensive expression. He had not even eaten one-fourth of his sandwich when Roy finished his salad. The nagging feeling that he should not be here had not left Edward. It was gnawing at the inside of his stomach, making him nervous. Without thinking, he bent his left hand at the wrist, gripped the edge of his coat sleeve, and gently tugged it while taking another small bite of his sandwich. Mustang took note of this.

Ed was halfway done when he placed his food back on the plate, and Mustang got his dessert. Ed's stomach started to twist itself in pain, but he ignored it and kept his face as straight as possible.

"Do you want a bite?" Mustang offered, indicating his blackberry cheesecake slice. Edward shook his head.

"No, it's all right." He stared out of lace covered window that the table was placed next to. It was bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. People were walking down the sidewalks, smiling, laughing, and talking. Children were playing and giggling, birds were serenading to the world, and butterflies filled the gray forest air with color. All of this was here just to mock him. Edward's lips curled back from his teeth, and he released a soft yet vicious snarl from the back of his throat. Mustang looked up from his dessert and noticed the expression of wrath on the blonde's face.

"Fullmetal, what's wrong?" he asked.

I hate this place, this city, this country. I hate this place so much. The people here are stupid, selfish, hate-filled creatures.

"Fullmetal…" Said person was starting to growl.

That's all people know now, isn't it? All they know is how to hate, so that they can hide their own weaknesses and dark secrets from the world. They find a reason to hate that person, place, group, or whatever, and expose it right down to the core. Deep down everyone hates. Born from that hate comes stupidity and greed. That's the reason for—

"Edward!"

He felt a finger flick his forehead.

"Ow! What was that for?" exclaimed Ed as he rubbed the injured area.

"I was trying to get your attention." his superior stated plainly. "Time to go back to work." Roy sighed heavily, imagining all of his paperwork somehow mysteriously turning to ash.

Their feet pounded the street pavement as they trudged back to Central HQ. Edward's mismatched footsteps stopped just within the gate.

"Colonel Bastard, here," said Ed as he grabbed the Colonel's hand and shoved something into it. Mustang opened his hand when Ed's retreated and inside was a ten cen bill. When he opened his mouth, Ed stopped him. "I told you not to waste your money on me so here's payback for my lunch." Roy decided to drop the subject in favor of one more pressing.

"Are you okay?" he asked, carefully.

"Why do you care?" Ed gently tugged at his sleeve.

"You've been acting strangely."

"Just leave me alone." He tugged at his sleeve a little bit harder. His gut became more twisted and sent waves of nausea coursing through him. He needed something to distract him from his sickness or else he would throw up. He gripped his flesh arm with his metallic one over a previously created sensitive wound. He clamped down hard on the injury and squeezed. The pain did preoccupy him slightly from the nausea, but he desperately needed to get out of there.

"What's wrong? If you have a problem, talk to me about it."

Edward snapped at the wrong person at the wrong time.

"Problem?" His words were saturated with malice. "I'll tell you what my problem is! My problem is you! You act like you care about everyone else, but in reality you don't." His vice-like grip tightened around his arm, but that started to be not enough to block the nausea. He needed to leave quickly before the inevitable happened.

"You'll break your arm!" said Roy in alarm as he watched Ed trying to crush his own arm. He gave Roy an uncaring look as he rushed over to Edward, and tried to pry the steel fingers away from the tender flesh. The look of indifference was washed away with rage, and sheer malice dripped off of his words once again.

"Don't patronize me, Colonel." he spat. Mustang froze. "All you care about is yourself and getting a promotion. As long as you achieve your goal it doesn't matter how many people you walk over." He viciously pushed the older man away with his automail arm. "Don't pretend to care about me." He marched off, leaving a stunned Flame Alchemist in his wake.

When he got back to the library, Ed hurried to the nearest bathroom and knelt before his porcelain god just in time for his body to violently reject his lunch.

Dammit! I knew that I shouldn't have gone to lunch with him. He rinsed out the stomach acid from his mouth with sink water and looked himself over in the mirror. No wonder Mustang noticed, he looked like crap. There were bags under his eyes from the many sleepless nights; his hair was tousled because he did not bother with brushing it anymore and just threw it into its braid; his eyes were hollow looking and gave him the appearance of a corpse, and his clothes hung off of his very thin frame. He truly looked revolting.

He started to think about what he had said to Mustang. The man had just opened his arms to him and what did he do? He ripped them off, shoved them down his throat, and basically told him to fuck off. Oh god, even though he did not believe in one, he despised himself so much right now. He would not blame the man for loathing him right now. He probably did anyway. All Edward had done was made a mess of things ever since the accident. Send him on the simplest mission, and he would find a way to screw it up. He would always find a way to screw anything up, like now. He was nothing but a pain to Mustang and to everyone around him. Their lives would be much easier if he was gone. There was one way he could make it up to Mustang, even if it is just a little bit.

He pulled off his red and black coat. His entire left arm was littered with scars, like a battlefield. Some were faded by the sands of time, and others were fresh, especially the angry red mark on his upper arm that had been agitated by his automail hand. He laid his jackets down on the sink next to him, and pulled out his military issued State Alchemist pocket watch. He hated that thing because it was the leash that the military had placed on him. He flipped it open and inside was a small folded cloth. He pulled it out, snapped its silver case closed, and placed it back in his pocket. He unfolded the cloth and nestled inside its folds were two shiny razorblades. He grabbed one and pulled off his gloves. He pressed the edge against his skin. He pushed the blade into his body and horizontally across his forearm. He felt his skin being sliced apart. A pang of pain ran through his nerves and was ebbed away when his endorphins kicked in. Blood trickled down his arm as it escaped from its fleshy prison. He gripped the edge of the sink. The cut was not good enough for him. He needed to make it deeper. He pushed the blade deeper into his skin, and more blood seeped out and poured down his arm. He let out a sigh as his natural painkillers kicked in again and temporarily numbed the area. He repeated the process until he had a column of cuts running down his arm and blood poured out. He watched in morbid fascination as his blood went down his arm, over his middle finger, into the sink, and down the drain in a uniform stream. He lifted his bloodied hand to his eye level.

How could something so simple be so important? Why is this liquid so highly thought of? Ed knew that it transported nutrients and oxygen through the body, and without it one would die. He was not looking for the scientific reason behind the want, but the psychological reason for the need. In horror stories, vampires had to drink blood to survive, and people in the old days practiced blood rituals and rights. It is put up on a pedestal by everyone, even worshipped like a god. Maybe the reason why was because it looks so beautiful in both the light and the dark. He did not know the true reason.

He examined the stream. The blood was still spilling over his middle finger. Then he acted completely out of character. He opened his mouth and inserted his blood covered finger. A sharp metallic taste danced on his palate and something inside of him snapped. An odd lust filled him that gave him a macabre desire to drink. He withdrew his finger from his mouth, licked the back of his hand, and up his arm. When his saliva got into his wounds he felt a small stinging sensation. He placed his mouth over one of his cuts and gently nursed the wound, draining it dry. Once he was satisfied, he pulled back and licked his lips. His mouth curled into a nefarious grin, revealing bloodstained teeth.

Red truly is a beautiful color, thought Edward as he licked his lips.

Well, there you have it. Please read & review. I need to know whether or not if I should keep writing it, so please tell. I also accept constructive criticism. Have a nice day!