Disclaimer: As can be said of any fan fiction, Fullmetal Alchemist is not my property nor do I make any profit from this. That said, enjoy (or not). Reviews are welcome.

Named for a Placebo song of the same name. May be continued. Also: Roy exhibited symptoms of an acute stress reaction (shock) near the end of the chapter so I opted to play that up a bit. My hope is that it comes across as believable rather than over the top.

Spoilers for Chapter 102. Be forewarned all ye who enter here!

The events that had transpired were a vague blur of noises and the feel of hands on his clothing to him. The last thing he remembered seeing was the gate, ornately decorated with intertwined serpents. In its way it was both the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and the most hideous. Only the panic of being thrust into such an empty place had kept him from running his hands over the surface just to prove its existence. He was unsure as to why he felt it speak so strongly to him, like it was connected to him somehow. Then the gate opened and everything became clear.

When Mustang was next aware he was dumped unceremoniously onto hard, cold stone in a pitch that exceeded even the darkest night. Then there was Fullmetal's voice to his right, and hands, and the horrible realization he was the only one in the darkness.

He stood then, walking away from Fullmetal's horrified whisper. It just could not be true. He had too much to do, too many people counting on him for his strength and his protection. Even the boy who he left kneeling on the floor needed him to protect him.

Only when his foot met a pipe and he slammed to his knees, sending jolts of agony through his bones and pressing the wounds on his hands further open, did he admit it to himself. He felt feminine hands touch his shoulders gently, and voices, but they just did not register to him.

Blind. He was blind.

For everything he had worked so hard to accomplish to be dashed to pieces at this crucial moment was just insult to injury. He didn't know how could he face his subordinates now, if he even survived this ordeal.

If they even survived this ordeal. Mustang wanted to get up, to use the seals to gage the chemicals in the air, but all he could do was sit on his hands and knees and stare vacantly at the earth uselessly. The sounds around him became more excited; the sounds of breaking earth and stone and pipe rattled his bones.

As the sounds subsided a small hand slipped into his own, tugging hard to urge him to follow. "Come with me!" a girl's voice squeaked, just as an explosion rocked the floor. The girl with the cat, possibly. It was too hard for him to register through the fog of shock.

Obediently he crawled to his knees, sore from his landing and clumsy with a newly acquired lack of visual balance. She led him somewhere that felt enclosed and the sounds of battle behind them were muffled.

"Just...stay here. You're in shock, try to stay still," she sounded nervous, but brave. He longed to see the face of his little savior, the face of a child who should not be fighting such a war.

"Someone will come for you and get you out of here," with that the soft little hand and voice disappeared.

He had no idea how long he sat there, listening to the sounds of a war raging all around him. Sounds so familiar that he wished were much more foreign to his ears. Explosions, yelling, screaming. He still felt very detached, like he wasn't actually in this room hearing the horror.

At some point he felt hands abruptly cradle his face, calloused and slender, smoothing his hair away. He could not even muster up the ability to flinch away from the hands, but thankfully they were not the hands of an enemy. Far from it.

"Oh, Roy, what have they done to you..." she whispered, pressing her forehead to his as though she could transfer her strength into him. He know that voice so well and he couldn't even respond beyond clenching his fingers and closing his eyes to her scrutiny. The pain in his hands did not even reach him.

"Take him up first, we need to get him out of here," said the woman. Huge furred hands lifted him, cradling him against a shoulder like a child before they moved in an oddly jolting pace. It felt like whomever was carrying him was jumping.

After what felt like hours he was released onto the ground, where he promptly lost his balance and fell to his knees again. More hands gathered him up, he was unsure how many and did not particularly care. Through the haze he felt himself be sat down somewhere and and cup was held to his lips. Somewhere his body did not open its mouth and water dribbled down his chin onto his shirt to mingle with the stains already there.

"Colonel," murmured a young man, hand on his should to steady him. "Colonel, open up. You should drink something."

A soft and more sophisticated voice interrupted. "This is an acute stress reaction, Fuery. He's in shock. The best thing we can do for him now is to keep him comfortable and out of danger until he recovers. I'll stay with him for now, you need to go help establish communication."

"R-right!" The hand retreated and there was the sound of boots on gravel.

"Just stay still, Colonel. I'm here," Falman sat next to Mustang, close enough their shoulders touched. Mustang could not help but feel safer with the presence of another human being there, so steadfast and reassured.

"The others will be here soon enough to help you. We're here for you, sir," Falman continued, reassuring him with his voice over the chaotic noises outside.

"We'll always be here for you."