My first Fullmetal fanfiction. I absolutly ADORE this series, so how could I resist?

Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own it.

"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is the kindle a light in the darkness of mere being."

-Carl Jung

It was all my fault. I sent him in. I let him go alone. I sent one man into an active war zone by himself. Not even a man. A child of fifteen. Sure, the kid was good. He was tough and fiery and a child-prodigy to boot. But the fact of the matter is that it was war and he was a kid. I was stupid. I sent my youngest subordinate in alone. I wouldn't have even done that to Armstrong, and he was tank. It just wasn't logical. I had been desperate and a fool; Now Fullmetal was paying the price.

Hawkeye kept my pace. She always did. I could count on her to have my back, to see me through to the end. Of course, I could count on all of my men to do that. That's why I chose them in the first place. Havoc was at my heels. He could be a hopeless idiot, but when I needed him, he was there. Breda had his left side; Breda, the man who pulled pranks on Havoc, could shoot a charging elephant without flinching, and was terrified of dogs. Fallman was behind them, as serious and expressionless as always. Fuery never left his side; he had once been my youngest, a twenty two year old tech head. Armstrong held the rear with pride; my loyal, overly-passionate Major.

Any sane leader would have given up the mission hours ago, but I wasn't about to quit on one of my men. Any sane soldier would have left his superior for dead the moment they couldn't make contact without the outside world, but not my men. They trusted me over everyone else and I wasn't about to fail now, nor would I give up on Fullmetal. I promised Ed I would come back for him and that's exactly what I was going to do.

We turned another dark corner, down another dark hallway, past more wet walls and I'm not sure I wanted to know what was dripping. Sealed iron doorways lined either side of the hall. We check every one, like we had a thousand times before that. We would find him. I would find him or die trying.

We all stopped at the same time. Someone was coming, about to turn the next corner. Hawkeye had a bullet in his skull before he could see us. Then she looked up at me. "Sir, are you sure that this is the best way to find him?"

"Well, how would you have me go about doing it?" I snapped back.

She's gotten so used to my bouts of anger that she didn't even flinch. "How can we be sure that he's even here? We've been searching for hours."

"Where else would he be? He was taken as a prisoner of war and this is Drachma's war prison."

Havoc hefted the rifle on his shoulder. "Well, they could have known we would come here and put him somewhere less conspicuous."

I had thought about that before, but discarded the idea. "No. They aren't dumb. They know that nothing short of a war prison will hold Fullmetal."

Breda smirked. "Got a point. Kid's tough. He's sure to put up a damn good fight."

"So what, we just keep searching until we open the right door?" Fuery asked.

"Yes," I said, then turned and continued down the hallway. We had descended three floors before there were any signs of change. On base floor somewhere-between-one-and-three-hundred the scenery changed. They weren't just storage rooms or jail cells anymore. They were torture zones. State of the art prison chambers and security units ready for break outs and defiance. Then, I knew we were in the right place.

The only problem was that I had no way of knowing which one he was in without opening every door. And if the technology was as advanced as people said it was, we would be swarmed before we could get down the hallway. The only way to stay out of radar was if…

We came across a power station and Hawkeye took out the two men sitting there, "Fuery," I hissed. "Kill the power." He nodded and leaned over the corpses, piddling with the system. In a few minutes, the dim lights flickered out and the constant buzz of electric defense ceased.

"It's only for this floor, though," he whispered. "We will have to find the other stations if we want to scour the rest of the basement." I nodded. Fuery pulled out a flashlight and we kept going. Most of the rooms were empty. Occasionally we came across one that was occupied, but they looked like they needed to be locked up, so we sealed the doors and kept moving.

I didn't count how many floors we descended until Fuery looked up from a power station and said, "This is the last floor." I gave Riza a glance. Hopefully, no one could tell that I was nervous. If we didn't find Ed here, that meant we had come all this way for nothing and would most likely not get back out again.

We moved quicker than before. I wasn't sure if it was even the same year as when we had started searching. Even when the power had been on, it was dark on the last floor. I couldn't imagine anyone being confiscated there. It was bleak, damp, cold, and completely forsaken. The only life we ever saw was the occasional scientist or disillusioned guard. We were on the last hallway that would lead back to the stairwell when I realized something was different. We had just killed ten soldiers who were all in the same place at the same time. That was more men than we had seen in the past five floors. I knew I was getting close to something, though I wasn't sure what.

Havoc cracked open the last door on the right.

He didn't close it again.

"Sir," he said, the cigarette falling from his mouth. "I found him."

I looked at Fallman. "Keep watch." He nodded.

We shoved the door open and Fuery flashed the light around the room. It was big, cold, dark, and empty. There against the far wall was a form hanging from chains nailed to the stone.

It was Ed.

I had expected that cocky, overly confident attitude when we found him, flashing an arrogant smile and saying, "What took you so long?" like he could have done it any better. But that's not what happened. He looked like a broken doll. He had been stripped of everything and his ragged blonde hair was down and strewn across his face. His skin was deathly pale, covered in blood, lash welts, and black bruises that splotched his entire torso. His arms were chained to the wall and his legs were bound to the floor, holding him in an agonizing kneeling position, and he looked like he had lost twenty pounds that he couldn't afford to lose. His eyes were blindfolded and he didn't move. I couldn't tell if he was conscious or not, or if he was even…still alive…

We didn't move at first. I think we were all too shocked at what we saw to react. But after a moment my military instincts took over: I didn't have time to stand around. I had to get him out of there. "Hawkeye, help me," I whispered, and she followed me to Ed's side.

The moment I touched his shoulder, he jerked away. I was overwhelmed with relief. He was alive, at least. He pulled away from us because he didn't know it was us. It was a desperate reaction of self-defense that startled me more than anything else ever had. I snapped and blew the shackles from his wrists and ankles before grabbing his arms so he couldn't pull away. Finally, Hawkeye reached behind his head and pulled off the blindfold.

His golden eyes were glazed over, bloodshot, and black shadows hung under them. He blinked up at me and stopped struggling. His face was frozen in complete shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Then, Hawkeye leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. It was a motherly gesture that I had never seen from her before, but she stroked the back of his head and whispered, "It's okay. We're here. It's over."

He didn't even seem to register that she was holding him. He still looked numb and terrified with wide eyes that I had only seen once before, after waking him from a restless dream. After what seemed like an eternity of stillness, he shifted under my grip and breathed, "You came." His voice was hoarse and hard to hear.

"Of course I did," I said without hesitation. "I promised I would come back for you."

He blinked and gave in, collapsing into our arms. Hawkeye and I held him together. A sudden, cold splash of reality washed over me when I felt how small he was, in such a huge, ugly planet. He would hate me if he caught me thinking that way, though.

Fallman looked at me from the doorway. "Colonel, we have to go."

Hawkeye rose and grabbed a revolver from its holster. I shifted Ed into my arms, wrapping my coat around his exposed body before picking him up. Nodding to them, I said, "Let's go."

More soldiers had caught on to what was going on by now and flooded the bottom floors. Having to grope around in the dark looking for the way out didn't help, either, but we had what we came for and nothing was going to stop us now. Once we reached the floors that still had power, it got ten times worse. They knew we were there and knew we were looking for the way out. Only the sharpshooters posed a potential threat to us; the others we could take out before they got close enough. We almost didn't make it out of the basement. Havoc ran out of ammo half way there and started using his rifle as a club. Armstrong lost his shirt somewhere along the way. Hawkeye never left my side and she never ran out of bullets to shoot.

An eternity later, we hit the first floor. My problem was I didn't remember where the exit had been, but Fallman had my back. We shot out the back doors and into the woods before the chaos of the basement could be relayed to the top floors. We didn't stop there, though. We couldn't, or they would catch up to us. We had embedded ourselves almost ten miles into the cold heart of the snowy forest before we stopped moving completely. Leaning against the trees, we listened for pursuers. Instead, we heard the howling of the wind and the rustling of the tree tops. After a moment, I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and we slid to the ground.

Ed was still in my arms, appearing to be unconscious. Crossing my legs, I laid him across them as Hawkeye knelt beside me. She brushed his hair aside and looked closer at his condition. There was more bruising than I had noticed before in the dark. He had lost too much weight for his own good. His breathing was labored and his heart rate was too fast, not to mention his automail looked like it needed to be completely replaced. He was in bad shape and if we didn't get him to a hospital soon, I didn't think he was going to make it.

She ran her fingers down his torso, searching for wounds that she could temporarily patch up. Fallman leaned over her shoulder, bandages from some unknown source in his hand, and they worked together to try and put Fullmetal back together again. "How bad off is he?" Breda asked from behind them, trying to get a fire going.

Fallman shook his head. "I can tell you this much. Whatever they were doing to him wasn't humane."

Anger suddenly surged through me and I pounded the tree beside me. "Damnit!" I growled.

"Calm down, sir," Hawkeye said after a moment.

Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair and leaned my head back. "How can I be? Look at what they did to him! And it's my fault. I sent him in there. I should have known better…"

"That isn't true, Colonel," Armstrong said. It caught me off guard. He hadn't said anything for a while. "If anything, it was all our fault. You know Edward will not blame you for this."

I sighed again. "I hope he does. I deserve it." Hawkeye shook her head, but didn't say anything.

Ed suddenly gasped and jerked up, grabbing Hawkeye's hand and pulling it away like it was a threat. We leaned back, startled, but she quickly recovered and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Shh. Easy. It's okay. You're alright."

He watched her with wary golden eyes for a moment, still grasping her hand like he didn't believe it was real. "Why…are you here?"

"Well that's a stupid question," Havoc answered for her. "We came looking for you. You've been missing for almost a month."

The look on his face was the same startled, terrified look of a child I had seen in the torture hold. But in a moment, it was gone. The kid withdrew and hid behind the façade of a wounded, tired soldier. I didn't like it. It wasn't right.

"You shouldn't have come," he mumbled softly. "Now they'll come for you, too. You should have just left me."

"Not a chance," Breda said. "We would never leave you. Now, Havoc, on the other hand…that's a different story." They bantered, but I stopped listening and concentrated on the child in my lap. I don't think Fullmetal realized it was me.

Hawkeye didn't let go of his hand until he realized he was holding it. "Sorry," he mumbled and quickly dropped it. She smiled softly, a smile that lit up her face more than my fire could light up the night.

Ed struggled to sit up. Of course. He couldn't sit still. I had learned that the hard way. "Easy, Fullmetal," I said. He didn't jump at my voice. So, he had known it was me. Odd.

He winced and hissed, grabbing his right shoulder. "Damnit. Winery's gonna kill me."

"You're in critical condition and that's what you're worried about?" Fuery asked.

Ed laughed softly. "Obviously, you haven't met my mechanic." Grimacing, he sunk back against me and took a shuttered breath. Any other man would have said that he was fine, just a little tired. But we knew Fullmetal better than that. He was in a lot of pain and doing his best to hide it. The fact that he rested back against me without arguing was proof enough. We had to get him back.

He was quiet for a while and so the whole wood fell silent. The only sound was the bitter wind and the crackling of the fire. We were all tired, but no one slept. We still had a long way to go before we felt safe enough to rest. It was a few minutes before I realized that Ed was trembling. It hit me that he really wasn't wearing anything to block out the cold, and from what I heard, automail didn't do well in it. Armstrong had noticed this as well and removed his elephant-sized jacket to hand to me. I draped it over Ed, suppresing a smile at how it completely engulfed him. That would have to do for now.

I did fall into a restless sleep at some point. When I woke again, the black sky was speckled with stars and the fire burned low against the icy ground. Fallman was awake, keeping watch like always. After a minute, I realized that Ed was awake too. He coughed occasionally and every breath he took looked painful. Softly, I rested my hand on his forehead. He was feverish.

"Colonel," he said after a while. "I need…to tell you something."

Yeah, me too. "What is it?"

He took in a shaky breath and whispered, "I'm sorry."

I blinked. Did I just hear that right? "What for?"

His voice was barely audible. "You sent me to get a job done. You expected me not to fail, and now I just got all of you involved. I tried, but…maybe…I should've known…I'm sorry."

It took me a minute to wrap my head around what he was saying. This was so wrong. It was suppose to be the other way around. He needed to be yelling at me. I was supposed to be apologizing. Not vice versa. What was wrong here?

Coming to my senses, I put a hand on his shoulder. "No, Edward. You listen to me. I'm sorry. This was my fault. I made a stupid mistake. I sent one of my men into an active war zone by himself. What I did to you was unforgivable. You suffered and I will never forgive myself for that. But don't you dare blame yourself for what happened." You don't need more pain, I thought, but I didn't say that. I hate to say that I didn't have the guts to.

He was quiet for a moment. I wondered how he would react, what he would say to my sudden compassionate side that he had never seen. Finally, he whispered, "Why do you do that?"

Fullmetal never ceased to surprise me. "Do what?"

He unconsciously fiddled with his automail. "Why do you cushion everything? Try and push it on yourself, hide the punishment from me like I don't deserve it? That's just like what you did with…" He struggled to continue. I knew what he was going to say and I wished he wouldn't, but he did anyway. "…with Hues."

He took a deep breath and sighed. "I do that because it's not your fault. You try to take the fall for everything. You bear the weight of the world's sorrow on your shoulders when you don't have to. I've been around the block a time or two, Ed. You don't have to do everything alone, because you're not alone. That's why I'm here. I care."

"But…" He struggled for words again. "Why do you care? I don't understand."

It almost pained me to see anyone like this. To grow up living a life that makes you wonder why anyone would give a damn about you…it's almost inhumane. I leaned my head back on a tree and watched the distant stars. "I care because I can. Because it's just and it's right. Ed, you're more than just my soldier now. I think of you like…" I hesitated. Did I really want to say this? It was so unlike me. But now…Ed needed it. He needed to know that we care. I care. "…like my son."

He looked up, startled. I thought he would be infuriated at the thought of his father, but there was a strange look in his eyes. I had seen it before, but not close enough. Whenever it came, he either turned away or left the room. It was…pain. Torment. Memories from a life he had once known that no one else understood. Only I had ever come close enough to him to catch a glimpse of that pain. When he was eleven years old, when I first met him at the Rockbell home. He was a broken, bloody boy in a wheelchair with the look of a shattered soul in his eyes. I never wanted to see it again. But here it was, slapping me in the face, and just as soon as it came, it left. He hid it again and his golden eyes flared with anger before he turned away from me. "I don't want another father," he mumbled.

"I know you don't," I tried to reason. "But I think you need one. A real father. Not one who runs off when you're young. One who sticks around, listens when you need him to, puts up with you when you're angry, smiles with you when you're happy. Everyone needs someone like that. I'm that man for you Ed. Always remember that."

He didn't say anything else. I wasn't sure if he accepted what I had said or not, but it didn't matter. There was the invitation; he could take it or leave it or come back for it later. I could wait. He nodded off sometime later. Never once did he struggle to get away from me, which was either really good or really bad. Either way, I sat there as long as he needed me to, until I would become his human punching bag again.

We never spoke of that talk again. He acted like it never happened. I acted like I hadn't said it. He knew I was there, though. He knew I cared, and that made all the difference.

Authors note: I have no idea how old Fuery was and I didn't feel like looking it up. And Roy might be a little OOC but I thought it worked.

Please review. I love criticism, but please be nice.