A/N: Sorry for this chapter taking longer than I intended (the next chapter will probably take even longer as it's proving a rather tough one), but I hope you still enjoy it! :D

Bradley walked through the narrow corridor, not bothering to hide his disdain at the mould on the walls or the damp, cracked tiles beneath his feet. His boot splashed in a puddle and the doctor walking behind him cringed at his frown. They turned the corner and stopped in front of a heavy, iron door, expressionless soldiers on either side. The soldiers saluted and Bradley returned the gesture, noting the black stripe on their uniforms. He'd left General Raven in charge of recruiting for the 'special operations' division and it seemed the man had chosen well. The doctor fumbled with a large ring of keys, finally selecting one and unlocking the door. The room within was far brighter than the corridor, bare, fluorescent bulbs hanging from the ceiling, the harsh light stinging his eyes. He fought back the urge to blink. He couldn't let himself show any weakness, however small, to this prisoner.

The prisoner was sat hunched against the wall, his arms chained to an iron ring embedded between the stones. He was barefoot, his legs curled close to his body. Streaks of blood stained his shirt and his military jacket hung in rag-like strips from his shoulders, the brass buttons and stars clearly torn off weeks before. It already looked to be a few sizes too large. Perhaps Bradley had left it too long before visiting the prisoner for the first time. It would have been interesting to have observed his decline more closely. The prisoner's head was bent low against his chest, his matted hair almost completely hiding his face. He made no move at the sound of Bradley's footsteps and the slight, whether deliberate or due simply to exhaustion, kindled a spark of irritation in his chest.

"Colonel Mustang." Bradley nudged the prisoner with the toe of his boot. "You will acknowledge the presence of a superior officer."

At the sound of Bradley's voice Mustang's head snapped up, his eyes wide. For a moment he did nothing but stare at the Fuhrer, his eyes impossibly large against his pale, emaciated face.

"I should have known you were responsible for this," his voice was dry and rasping, barely more than a whisper. "But I guess even after Ishval, I was still far too naive. I hadn't realised just how low you could sink."

Bradley crouched down next to the former State Alchemist, suppressing a smile at the hatred etched into every line of the young man's face. Mustang could hate him all he wanted, it would do nothing to change his situation. His thumb traced the dark smudge of a bruise on Mustang's cheek, his grip tightening as the alchemist tried to wrench his head away.

"I could say the same for you, Colonel," he murmured, turning the man's head until he was forced to meet his eyes. "The hero of Ishval, plotting treason against his own Fuhrer? I made you a lieutenant colonel at twenty three and a state alchemist at nineteen. I gave you every honour and you threw it all back at me. You sought to supplant me and take my position for your own. You betrayed me, the leader of your country, whom you swore an oath to protect. Do you deny this?"

To Mustang's credit, he made no attempt to try. "You deserve to be betrayed. You're a monster."

Oh, you have no idea, boy…

"Perhaps so." This time he didn't even try to keep the smirk from his face. He brushed away a strand of hair from Mustang's eyes, delighting at the strength of defiance in the young man's gaze. So little in his life now offered such an exciting challenge as this. "But I'm a monster who holds your life in its hands. So perhaps it'd be in your interest to start behaving, no?"

"Fuck you." Mustang spat.

Bradley kept his expression the same as he stood up and, gently, took Mustang's fingers in his own. The alchemist glanced up, his eyes widening as he realised what was about to happen. Bradley broke his index finger first, gratified to hear Mustang bite back a scream. He broke his middle two fingers together, bending them back against his thumb before snapping Mustang's little finger and twisting his thumb out of its joint. He let Mustang catch his breath for a few seconds before breaking that, too.

He paused, looking down at the man curled up on the floor. Mustang was shaking, his face white and soaked in sweat. His breath was coming in shallow, hurried gasps, tiny moans of pain escaping his lips despite his brave attempts to stay silent. Bradley let him stay that way for a few moments longer, watching a thin trail of blood trickle down from where Mustang had bitten his lip. Pure foolishness, to further injure himself in an attempt to stay silent, but Bradley had to admire his spirit.

"How about now?"

Mustang shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut as Bradley grasped the fingers of his left hand. His bravery was commendable. The alchemist knew what would happen, yet still he refused to give in. He would need such a resilient spirit in the months and years to come. Bradley went slower this time, letting the snap of bone echo against the walls before moving on to each new finger. It was almost too easy. Mustang had such delicate hands.

Mustang was crying openly by the time he finished. Tears coursed down his cheeks and he looked as if he were going to throw up.

"Now," Bradley spoke softly, crouching down so he was face to face with the young man again. Mustang flinched as he reached into his breast pocket, watching with red-rimmed, hate-filled eyes as Bradley took out a handkerchief and wiped the tears from his face. "Perhaps we can try this conversation again. I didn't want to resort to this, but since you clearly have no regard for your own comfort… we know you weren't acting alone. We know you had help from your team; from Lieutenant Hawkeye in particular, and your friend, Captain Hughes."

He watched Mustang's face as realisation dawned. He choked back a moan, his eyes widening in horror.

"What… what have you done to them?" He breathed. "My team knew nothing of my plans, leave them out of this."

Mustang was still clever, even now. He knew he had no chance of denying Hawkeye or Hughes' involvement so he was trying to save as many of his people as he could. It would make no difference, of course, but he couldn't blame the boy for trying.

"Don't worry, Colonel." Bradley chuckled. "Your co-conspirators remain free. Whether they stay that way… that's up to you." Mustang had stopped crying now, his eyes following every move that Bradley made. "I have plans for you which will require your full co-operation. Behave yourself and your team and friends will be unharmed. Do we have an agreement?"

Mustang was silent for a long time. He closed his eyes, his head falling back against the wall. "We do." He whispered. A few remaining tears spilled out from underneath his eyelids as he spoke. "I'll do whatever you want. Just please, leave them alone."

It was dark when Riza got home, the last hints of daylight long since disappeared from the sky. She had hoped to leave work at five but the Fuhrer had insisted that all the paperwork from her week of absence needed to be completed that day and so was half six before she managed to escape, cursing Bradley under her breath with every hurried step she took. The walk back to her flat normally took her just under an hour but she made it back in half that. She tore up the stairs to her floor, the knot in her stomach growing tighter and tighter as she approached her flat. Riza had no idea what she was so worried about- Roy had told her he would be okay and she'd never said she would be back by a specific time, but still; half-formed images of Roy lying dead or dying on the bedroom floor flashed through her mind, urging her on. she reached the door of her flat, fumbling with the keys as she struggled to unlock the door. She took a deep breath and pushed open the front door.

It was dark. None of the lights were on in the hall or the living room and the door to the kitchen was closed. There was no light shining out from beneath the doorway and a quick glance down the hall told her the bedroom and bathroom were the same. She clenched her hands into fists. There was no reason to panic, she reminded herself, not yet. Roy could simply be asleep. Riza tugged at the scarf around her neck, letting it fall to the floor. She'd left the heating on for Roy but now it felt far too hot. She walked towards the bedroom, keeping her steps light and pushing open the door with exaggerated care.

The room was empty. The curtains were pushed back from the window and secondhand light from the street below pooled dimly on the unmade bed. She ran out of the room, no longer trying to be silent as she burst into the bathroom, glancing around with wild eyes before rushing back to the hall. She could see into the living room from where she was standing, leaving only the kitchen unchecked. Riza was scarcely able to breathe as she turned the door handle. Her hand found the light switch and, blinking in the sudden brightness, she stepped into the kitchen.

The scene that greeted her wasn't the worst she had imagined but that was the only good thing that could be said for it. The floor was covered in ceramic shards and scraps of food. Dried blood smeared the tiles by where Roy was sitting, eyes closed and shivering. His face was white and drenched in sweat and he hadn't seemed to notice Riza's presence. She gripped the door frame, trying not to collapse to the floor.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

The words were out before she could stop them and the sight of Roy's face made her regret them instantly. Roy jumped at the sound of her voice, his eyes rushing up to meet hers, wide and filled with terror. He scrambled back as she walked into the room. His shoulders hit the counter at the far wall and he froze. He opened his mouth but then closed it again, his eyes darting to the sides as if searching for a way to escape. He flinched when she moved closer, the tiny movement sending ice running through her. Roy was afraid of her, and it was her fault.

"I'm so sorry, Roy," Riza murmured, She crouched down next to him, careful to keep enough distance between them. Slowly, she reached out a hand, not touching him but close enough that he could take it if he wished. A memory of the night she first found him flashed in vivid detail in front of her eyes. It had taken so long to truly gain Roy's trust again, she couldn't allow everything to be ruined by one brief moment of anger. "I didn't mean to shout at you. I was just worried. Everything was dark when I came home and I couldn't find you straight away… I got frightened."

For a while Roy said nothing, just stared at her outstretched hand. He swallowed hard before grasping her hand and letting her pull him to his feet.

"I'm sorry too," He replied. His voice was hoarse and so quiet Riza could barely hear him. He moved closer, resting his head on her shoulder. Riza could feel him trembling and she hit her lip to stop herself from crying again. He didn't need that right now. "I wasn't trying to scare you. I don't really know what happened. I tripped and I just… couldn't bring myself to get up."

Riza led him to a chair, mindful of his bare feet and the broken shards of plate that littered the floor. He already had one injury she needed to take care of. Roy sank into the chair, hunching over the table with his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't looking at her. Something more was going on here. He hadn't told her the full story.

She walked over to the cupboard and got out the first aid kit, for the third time that week. At least this time Roy's injuries weren't so severe; the cut had stopped bleeding a while back and it didn't look too deep. Riza sat down in the chair next to him, taking his hand in her own. Roy gave no sign of discomfort while she cleaned his palm but simply stared at the table, his uninjured hand clenched into a fist on its surface.

"Did something else happen earlier today?" She asked as she started bandaging his hand. "Something to cause this?" The question was tentative, gentle, yet Roy jumped as if she were an inquisitor in a murder case. He looked up at her, guilt clear in his eyes, and nodded, slowly. He'd started shaking again, she realised.

"I nearly threw myself out of the window this morning."

For a moment she could do nothing but stare at him. He shrank back under her gaze, ducking his head and closing his eyes. Riza said nothing, hardly daring to breathe as she waited for the rest of the story. She longed to shake him out of his silence, to make him promise her that he didn't mean what she feared. What she'd dreaded ever since he'd smashed her mirror rather than bear the sight of what he'd become.

Calm down. She reminded herself. If he wanted to do it he'd be dead already. There has to be something else going on here.

"It was an accident," he glanced up, meeting her eyes as if daring her to disbelieve him. "I… I don't know what happened. I was asleep… I had a dream about the first time I flew." Roy leaned back in his chair, tilting his head towards the ceiling. Riza finished tying the bandage and released his hand. He pulled away from her as soon as she was done, scrubbing his hand across his eyes. Riza tried to suppress the pang of hurt the action caused. She had burst in on him and shouted at him, why would he want to touch her?

"It felt so real." He was almost whispering now. "Like I was actually back there… back in that body. I woke up and I was leaning out of the bedroom window, falling towards the ground."

She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, trying not to let her terror show. Her vision blurred with tears which fell down her cheeks as she tried to blink them away. Roy had come so close to death today and she hadn't been there. Roy glanced towards her, his eyes widening at the sight of her tears. He reached up to brush them away with his bandaged hand and Riza hardly dared to move, scared to shatter the moment of clemency she had been allowed.

"I was able to grab hold of the window frame and fall backwards into the room… I hit my head, but not too badly. It just…" He paused, letting his hand drop back to his lap. He took a deep breath before continuing. "It unsettled me. I tried to carry on as if nothing had happened but I couldn't stop thinking about it. I tried to eat the food you left out for me but well… you saw how that ended."

His mouth twisted in something that could have been a smile and Riza could hardly breathe for the need to hold him, to comfort him and prove he was still there, still safe and alive. As if sensing her thoughts, Roy's hand came to rest on hers. He said nothing but Riza knew she had been forgiven.

A knock on the door froze her in place, her eyes flying up to meet Roy's as he gripped her arm. Hughes. It was almost seven thirty and she hadn't even realised.

"Don't worry. It's Hughes. I told him to come here tonight. He doesn't know why he's here yet."

Roy glanced down at himself and Riza watched as he took in his bare feet, his blood-smeared and scuffed clothes and his dirty hands. He seemed to shrink further into himself

"I can't meet him like this," He muttered. "It's going to be enough of a shock seeing me again as it is, I don't want his first impression to be me looking like this."

"Quick." Riza told him. "Go get changed. I'll take him into the living room and give you the time you need." She squeezed his hand. "Remember, he's your best friend. No matter what, he'll be happy to see you."

Roy nodded, but doubt was clear on his face. He hurried away at the sound of a second knock and Riza watched him as he walked back to the bedroom. His steps were still unsteady, the easy grace she remembered from before his capture all but destroyed. A third knock came, slightly louder this time. Riza could imagine Maes standing outside the door, glancing over his shoulder for prying neighbours and wondering what was taking her so long. She glanced back, watching Roy disappear into the bedroom. She couldn't afford to give him any more time.

She stood at the front door, her hand on the latch. She could see Maes through the spyhole; he had changed out of his uniform into a plain white shirt and trousers and he was standing half turned away from the door. Riza forced a smile onto her face. She had told Roy that there was no reason to worry, and she believed it, but she still couldn't stop feeling nervous herself. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

Hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you thought. :)