Hey peoples! Haven't posted anything I've written since like...two years ago? I think that's about right. I finally got enough motivation, thanks to my friends #virtual hugs#, and so here I am with the first one of...some, to come (not sure how many). I'm also co-writing a story with Demonalchemist5, a story called "Dark Side of the Moon". Just uh, throwin' that out there... #side glances#

Special thanks to my Beta-Reader Sedentary Wordsmith for reading this over and being one of the friends to help kick me off my lazy butt and get posting again. Thx!

Disclaimer (wow, haven't written this in a while): Me no own. I gots some chocolate, but no FMA. If I did, you'd be seeing Edo shaped chocolate monuments dedicated to him that all his friends and fans could eat after. XD I claim first dibs! #races to non-existent statue, hands waving wildly in the air#

BROKEN

Broken.

That was his status now. Not once M.I.A. and now found. Not with non-lethal physical injuries. No. He was broken and that was all he was. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. His golden eyes were blank, mouth nothing but a thin line, body moving only for basic needs or the occasional requirement of more complicated motions to fulfill a given order.

Yes. He was fulfilling orders now, like the puppy he was originally intended to be.

Dammit! I slammed my hands on my desk, startling my subordinates. They glanced at me. I could feel their concerned looks but I ignored them, forcing myself to calm down.

I still couldn't believe it—how those bastards had taken Fullmetal on one of his investigative missions in a neighboring town. From the constant blank look that adorned his face, I could tell he was tortured until he was broken.

Never did I ever think that could happen to the shrimp, the one military personnel who could so easily defy orders because he felt them to be too harsh, immoral, or in his own opinion, just plain stupid.

Now, that seemed to be a thing of the past, a painful sight to witness as he willingly followed orders, that ever-persistent blank look on his face. It just hurt so much...

I buried my head in my folded arms atop my desk, trying to smother the heartbreaking sight of Edward listlessly doing paperwork and silently communicating what he needed, like a stapler or a pen, that someone else might have.

This couldn't be real. This just couldn't be happening. My eyes narrowed in the dark. I knew whose fault it was. It had to have been Kimbley's. I could see that bastard's wicked smile now as he passed the blond in the halls, smug and devious as ever.

My shoulders sagged, ruffling my suit slightly as I let out a sigh. There was nothing I could do to him. I couldn't touch him without proof. And there was none of that magic left. By the time my subordinates and I had barged into the abandoned building, thanks to an anonymous tip, we had found nothing but the beaten and broken body of my other subordinate. The pronounced missing-in-action Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist.

So much blood, a broken arm, torn clothes with only enough left to cover his hips and parts of his chest and legs, bruising on his face and most of his chest, back, and legs...I shook the image out of my head, lifting my eyes above my arms just enough to peer into the room. Everyone was back to work, I noticed, except for the blond previously in my thoughts.

I watched him for a few moments, wondering why he was just sitting there, staring blankly at the far wall. Then I noticed the trembling hand he was trying to hide in his lap. Try as he might, I could see it from my angle and I knew something was wrong.

This was the first time he had shown any kind of emotion, this one either anger or fear. I couldn't tell, for it was only expressed with the slight shaking of his hand and that was all. Nothing on his face or in his eyes. My own dark orbs softened a little as I continued to watch the boy.

Suddenly he stood up, the chair shoved back a few feet, and left the room, not even bothering to close the door behind him. We all watched the doorway where we had last seen him, bewildered by the abnormal, unnecessary action. He hadn't been ordered to leave the room, so why...?

"Sir?"

I sat up straight, looking at the First Lieutenant, meeting her worried gaze. I sighed, knowing without words what she wanted of me, and it had nothing to do with completing paperwork, either.

Pushing my chair away slowly, I stood up and slowly followed the teen out the door, asking other officers where the blond had gone until I reached an empty office. Or at least it would have been, had it not contained a sobbing Ed who was sitting on the floor behind the desk, arms wrapped around folded knees, rocking back and forth with his head tucked.

"Edward?" I whispered, for the first time using his real name and not the one given by the state. This was no time to include the military. It was just him and I. Two men. One broken, the other ready to help mend seemingly impossible-to-close wounds.

Blood-shot golden eyes poked up from blond bangs, widening when they met my worried black ones.

He looked away, withdrawing into himself as he always did. I could already hear the sobs previously wracking his body die down into nothing but a trembling form.

So this was where he went when no one else could find him. This was where he let it all out while at work. His own uniform—yes, uniform—was beyond creased and wrinkled from his near-fetal position. I felt another piece of my heart break at the sight.

This wasn't right. This was just so wrong! The moment I saw him that day he returned to work a week ago in uniform, six weeks after the rescue, my heart sank. The luster was gone from his pony-tailed blond hair, his wild spirit tamed in his usually fiery golden eyes. The moment he saluted, I nearly cried.

He was not Ed. No. Now he was just another dog of the military. A pathetic mutt that couldn't do anything until it was ordered to and relied on those words from its master in order to function. Breathe, even.

He was the only one in history to not only become a State Alchemist at the tender age of twelve, but also the only one that could get a away with being loud, obnoxious, and, to a certain degree, disrespectful. He went against orders and yet somehow found a way to fulfill the mission and do more for the people than any military man ever could. In some ways even myself, I admit.

He was the Hero of the People. The People's Alchemist. The first to really give meaning to the Military's motto, "Be Thou For The People."

I missed that boy—no, adult that would rant about not being short, screaming and doing just about anything he had to in order to get away from a simple needle, grimacing even at the mention of milk.

"Who are you?" I found myself muttering before I could even think about what I was saying. I regretted it instantly but forced myself to keep my blank look, staring sadly as golden eyes glanced up at me again.

I could see him just under the surface, trying so hard to break free of the wall made of scarring torture, blood, and screams. I knew that look all too well. I had seen that helpless, lifeless look in the mirror so many times it was seared into my mind.

'What?' his lips formed. It seemed his voice was shut off, no doubt something that was beaten into him by his captors. I couldn't hold back anymore, no matter how much I wanted to, how much it would hurt my pride to let a moment of weakness show. But Ed needed me more and I felt as if only I could mend his broken spirit and give it the spark it needed to rekindle and grow back into its fiery rebel form.

I sat down beside him and before either of us could do anything more, I flung my arms around him and held him close. At first he was tense, startled and frightened. I could hear his breath hitch and feel him almost hyperventilate in my grasp.

He tried to pull away, his body thrashing like a wild animal. I just held him there, careful not to harm him or let him harm me. I failed slightly, earning a few hits on my right arm and the left side of my lower torso. It would hurt later but now I couldn't care less.

The only one I was focused on was the severely shaking teen in my arms. Heavy sobs sounded from him, something I could never get used to, but I held him there, tight and secure.

After a few minutes the crying slowed until it became almost inaudible. I knew the salt water was still pouring from his eyes, as I was able to feel his shuddering body, but that only made me pull him into my lap, no doubt a more comfortable position for the both of us.

Silence engulfed us for a few more moments as I sat there, calming him with light strokes through dull golden locks, before finally I broke it.

"I used to do the same thing, after the war," I began, keeping my voice steady as I pushed the trillions of sights, sounds, and smells from bombarding my senses at once and ending up like Edward. I had gotten past that stage in my life. There was no use letting myself fall into that endless abyss full of dark memories again. I needed to be strong, if not for myself, then for Ed.

"I would get minimal amounts of sleep, remembering all of the horrible things of the Ishbal Massacre." I took a deep breath, trying hard to keep the tears from falling. No matter how hard I tried to suppress the memories, a few would somehow get through and haunt me, even as I sat here awake.

"I remembered each person I killed, using the skill that I had vowed to use to help the people, but instead used to kill hundreds. For nights, during and after the war, I couldn't sleep. Restless nights and burned-body filled nightmares following me seemingly everywhere I went. I even almost went over the edge." I barely choked out, gripping Edward tighter, not for his reassurance but for mine.

He looked up at me with wide eyes, understanding the implications. I nodded sadly, swallowed hard, and forced myself to continue, glancing to the ceiling.

"Maes saved me. Twice. I was going to use human transmutation to bring all the people I had killed back." I could feel Ed's grip on my uniform tighten. "I knew it was wrong, but at the time it seemed as if it was the perfect solution to end my pain and suffering as well as those who had lost their families and friends."

I didn't know why, but telling him this, spilling my darkest, deepest-hidden secret only Hughes and Hawkeye knew the details of, seemed to help keep the day-mares away. For now, at least.

"He had convinced me it was not the way, but the guilt was still so hard to cope with. I had a gun to my mouth, but he stopped me, talked to me, and helped me change my life around."

I looked down into fearful eyes. Concern laced them and I could tell it was all for me. I couldn't help but crack a smile, sad as it was. "It was because of talking to him did I choose a goal for myself, something to keep me going no matter what."

'What?' he mouthed again. I heard him trying to use his voice, but it hadn't been used for such a long time it was like he didn't know how to. He tried so hard. It pained me to watch him struggle, so instead I started talking again to keep his mind off of it and distract him.

"I'm going to become Fuhrer someday and help turn this country around. I hate the corruption in this government and I want to give the people of this country the feeling of security and freedom." He stared at me with admiration, the first sign of his frozen-over heart starting to melt.

"Ed, I want you to talk to me. Tell me everything that happened, down to the last detail." Golden eyes widened, then became downcast, his grip on my jacket tightening further. I could see the inner turmoil brewing in those eyes despite the odd angle.

Finally he drew his head to my chest and nodded slowly, letting his tight fists relax a little and even going so far as to flatten out the wrinkles he created. "Don't worry about the creases. I'll iron them out later. For now let's focus on you."

For the first time in months he spoke a word—well, two actually, and they made me smile wider with each syllable. "Th—thank you."

I nodded without a word, holding him close as he forcefully cleared his throat and whispered the tale of his torture to me. Every once in a while I shivered or grimaced, but knew it all too well. Perhaps Hawkeye was right to force me to come talk to him. I guess, with the help of woman's intuition, she knew I'd be the only one willing to help that could relate in any way to what had happened to Ed.

"Kimbley."

"Hmm?" I hummed, not quite catching what he said, his face in my jacket having muffled the word.

"I—I said Kimbley. He was the one to organize the kidnapping. He was there, helping with the t-torturing, forcing me to watch as he slaughtered a few others before he s-started b-beating me." He took in a shaky breath but before I could tell him to take a break, take a breather, he continued with narrowed eyes and a tightened grip on my uniform. Again.

"Kimbley laughed as he hit my skin with whips, clubs, pieces of wood, anything he could get his hands on. He even m-made me face off several chimeras a-at once." I knew it pained him to even talk, let alone tell me his story, but he had to get it off his chest. Then a thought occurred to me.

Cutting him off before he could speak, I asked, "Would you testify against Kimbley?" Golden eyes glanced to my black pair fearfully, pulling away and shaking his head furiously.

"No! He said he'd k-kill Alphonse if I even so much as uttered a word!" Ed whimpered, crushing my heart even further. I narrowed my eyes, anger and resentment towards the man filling me. He noticed and grabbed my shoulders, shaking them hard as if to regain my attention. The urgency and pain that filled those eyes...

"I went through all of that just so they wouldn't lay a finger on Al. I'm not going to throw it all away and have him get hurt just by saying something against him." I studied him, wondering what I should do. Kimbley had to be taken down no matter what, but how to go about it?

"Ed, we're going to keep Al safe and then you're going to testify. We can't let Kimbley get away with this." It was painfully obvious what he was feeling inside. His eyes and faint shifts in expressions exposed it all.

He was mad at the man for doing such things to him, but he was also afraid of him—afraid that the man would harm his brother if he disobeyed. Most of all he was just tired.

I grabbed his chin and gently pulled it upward, forcing our eyes to meet. Gazing at him calmly, I told him, "Ed, we're going to keep Alphonse safe, no matter what. I promise. And the moment he is safe, we're going to bring Kimbley down. You hear me?" Golden locks shifted with the hesitant nod.

"We're going to take down that monster together, okay? I won't let him hurt you or anyone else again." My voice held confidence and I could even feel my usual smirk starting to show, instinctively, of course. Not that I would do it on purpose or anything...

An even broader smirk met my own, as if challenging me, mocking me.

"So, you gonna go back and do your paperwork like a good puppy? Or are you gonna risk getting shot at by Hawkeye for skipping?" He sneered. I couldn't help but give him a sarcastic look but shrugged, not really sure what I should do. I was already planning ahead: how I would go about prosecuting against Kimbley, presenting the evidence, having Edward talk against him as the sole surviving witness, and having the insane man handcuffed and mercilessly thrown in jail.

First Ed got up, then helped me up, and together we walked over to the door, my arm wrapped around his shoulders. I grabbed the doorknob but before I opened it, I glanced down at him and smiled, my gaze firm and reassuring.

"Ed, I want you to continue sulking." I rolled my eyes at his weak pout. It was a start, a spark of who was forcefully hidden beneath the surface of defeat and fear. "Once Al is out of harm's way, we'll start knocking down Kimbley until he's put away for good." With an agreeing nod, we both walked out as if nothing but time had transpired in that room, going our separate ways.

I glanced over my shoulder, the feeling he was doing the same strong in my war-sharpened instincts. I smiled, looking ahead as I made my way back to my office. I settled in my seat, leaning back and leisurely placing my feet on my desk.

"So, is the Boss gonna be alright?" Havoc asked, watching me through the smoke of his cigarette that rose lazily from the cancer stick hanging limply in his mouth. If it weren't for the fact we had to be focused on my plan, I would have scolded him and ordered him to put it out. I really hated when he smoked, though most of the time I was more concentrated on not getting shot at by a certain female First Lieutenant and doing paperwork she was threatening to shoot at me for not doing to care. Right now such trivial things didn't matter.

"Yes." I replied, suddenly becoming serious as I pulled my feet from the desk's top and sat up straight. "But first thing's first. We need to keep Alphonse safe. Once done, we need to present a case against Kimbley."

Hawkeye looked at me skeptically. I could tell she wanted to know what was going on, why, and how she fit into it, as eager to help the Elric Brothers as the rest of us were.

"Close the door and I'll fill you in," was all I said as I leaned back into my seat, interlacing my fingers, crossing my legs, and placing my head on my hands, my elbows resting on my knees.

'This is going to be fun,' I thought with a devious smirk on my face. It only widened when Havoc noticed, his suddenly nervous look causing me to be unable to wait much longer to achieve sweet revenge. That man was going to pay for what he did to Fullmetal.

No one was allowed to break Edward. He was a young man who had been through so much, even having a brush with death on more than one occasion. He was meant to be strong, for himself, his brother, and his extended family.

Yeah...his family. I smiled at the thought, ignoring the Lieutenant's demands for an explanation as I closed my eyes, suddenly finding myself imagining what it would be like to have a child of my own. The first to pop into my mind was Ed. My smile widened, no doubt confusing my subordinates, but I didn't care.

I felt so much better now that I had finally helped someone completely instead of hurting them in any way, shape, or form by trying to help and having it backfire somehow, some way… Big or small I usually somehow fumble and gain the opposite effect. This time I didn't. I was glad—no, proud of myself—that I was able to mend his broken spirit and relight his fire.

No. He was no longer broken. Never was he, really. Just lost for what to do. I couldn't help but chuckle, realizing I had helped him find that well-hidden path, the one he could take to fix this problem he had stumbled upon. And I vowed to be there every step of the way.

No longer would the Fullmetal Alchemist be considered broken, for whenever he cracked, I would be there to mend the fissures and keep him going until the very end.

Just like a father should.

Sorry if the end sounded a little repetitive. That's what it seemed like to me anyway. I suppose it's alright for having done at four in the morning. #sweatdrops# I suddenly started thinking of the word "broken" and, well, you read where it led. AH! Rhymed! #sticks tongue out# Ever since I saw that Chistmas episode of Danny Phantom, "The Fright Before Christmas" I couldn't stop rhyming for weeks after. It of course didn't help that some of my friends had seen it too and apparently contracted the same illness. #points# You know who you are. XD

If anyone's wondering why I chose Kimbely to pick on, well, as stated before it was four in the morning and as I was writing, I realized I had to pick someone. Of course, who remembers all of the characters at such an early time. I go to sleep at ten. Weak, I know. So you can only imagine how many times my heavy eye-lids fluttered shut mid-sentence. He was the first to come to mind so poof, there ya have it.

I have a few more one-shots of various genres coming soon so look out. #grins#