Tainted Title: Tainted Rating: R Pairing: Roy/Ed if you squint Warnings: Non-consensual situations. Language Genre: Angst/Drama Summary: "All he cared about was forgetting what had happened a few hours ago - forgetting about Hern and the lecherous, hungry look in his eyes." Roy/Ed if you squint. Status: Complete one-shot (probably). Warning: This piece contains scenes of a non-consensual nature that some people may find disturbing. Please read responsibly. Author's Notes: This piece is not part of the Babylon universe, although it is an AU timeline. Ed has successfully retrieved Al from the gate and they have both remained in Amestris. The expression "calling time" is when a barkeeper stops serving drinks. It originates from the alcohol laws in Britain that stated alcoholic beverages could not be served after 11 p.m. (10 p.m. on a Sunday.) The barkeeper rings a bell to signify that the bar is closed. Tainted Ed?s fingers tapped on the half-empty tumbler in front of him, sending ripples through the amber liquid inside. There was no rhythm to his motion, and the noise in the smoky bar almost drowned out the unsteady melody of metal on glass. He?d had too much. Hell, he had probably had too much an hour ago, but it still was not enough. When he was younger, he had never understood why adults drank a substance that was basically poison. Why would anyone do that for fun? With all the arrogance that a thirteen year old could possess he had thought they were stupid: flawed in some way for thinking that it could be anything but bad for them. Now, he knew that people did it for different reasons. Some would swallow alcohol for the confidence, or for a taste of warm, hazy ambivalence when their minds would not wind down. Other people drank to forget. They swallowed down the venom of their choice with single-minded determination. When life got too much they knew where to turn. They wanted oblivion, and they found it in a bottle ? normally at the bottom. Alcohol became their crutch; it was their burden and relief all in one. Ed could not really pinpoint when he had started building a wall of toxic haze between himself and reality. One day, when the world had seemed filthy and rotten to its core ? when he thought he would never get his brother back and survive ? he had just wandered away, turning his back on it all. He had been too young, of course. He was too young to be here now, but the bartender could ignore a lot when faced with a shiny pocket watch and a paying customer. The drink had been foul. Cheap and vicious, it was like punishment in a glass, but he had swallowed it anyway. Two metal limbs meant less body weight, and it had not taken much to reach a point where he was comfortably numb. It had been a few hours of lazy, physical relief. His automail did not ache. Old scars did not twinge or pull, and the new scrapes he had acquired since crawling out of bed in the morning were turned senseless. Eventually it had even softened his memories, making them distant and irrelevant. He could look back on every nightmarish incident in his life with a stranger?s apathy, and it felt like he could almost be human again. Of course, a few hours later he had felt like hell, and his body spent the rest of the night and most of the next day reminding him that alcohol really was a poison. A grimace twisted Ed?s lips as he drained the glass. The spirit stung his split lip - still bleeding a touch - but the pain was distant enough to ignore. Instead he savoured the soft, spicy warmth of the drink on his tongue before swallowing it down. That first time had put him off for a while, but somehow he had found himself back here more than once, chasing that same feeling as if his life depended on it. Every time it was harder to find that loss of mental clarity. Every time it seemed to take longer for his mind to slow down to the point where he could honestly say that, just for a little while, he?d forgotten it all. Now he did not care about the rest of it. He could deal with his mother, with Nina: with all of that. He had put those ghosts to rest when he finally snatched Al back from the gate and escaped with his own life still intact. All he cared about was forgetting what had happened a few hours ago - forgetting him and the lecherous, hungry look in his eyes. A chill stole over him, pushing away the tingle of alcohol and making the bruise on his jaw thud dully. Slumping down further in his chair Ed crossed his arms, staring unseeingly at the empty tumbler. The worst part, the bit that made him physically sick, was that he had not realised what was going on until it was almost too late. Like a lamb to the bloody slaughter he had wandered into that office, irritated at the interruption and barely bothering to hide it. It was not unusual, being called into a general?s presence to answer questions on some report or other. Anyone above Mustang in rank was painfully aware of the ambitious Flame Alchemist. They were always looking for ways to bring him down, even if it meant using his subordinates. Hern was no different. The stocky man was in his mid-fifties: a husband and father who spent as much time away from his family as possible. He was often in his office until late at night and back again first thing in the morning. There was something about him that Mustang simply loathed. Whenever his name was mentioned those dark eyes would narrow to slits. His jaw would tense as he gritted his teeth, as though trying to hold back a litany of disgust. At the time Ed had thought Hern was just the biggest obstacle in Roy?s path to the top. Now he wasn?t so sure about that. The questions had been about his handling of the latest chimera case: pointless queries about resources available and other crap like that. Ed had answered them in a bored voice, not caring what the general thought. Hern would complain to Mustang later. They all did. To them Ed was insubordinate: a boy doing a man?s job and doing it better than they ever could. Except that he was not really a boy any more and not quite an adult either. Instead he was caught in that graceless place somewhere in between. ?Another?? The barkeeper?s gruff voice made him look up, and he frowned in confusion for a moment before noticing the empty glass in the man?s hand. ?Yeah, thanks.? The man grunted to himself, a faintly worried expression crossing his no-nonsense face as he filled the glass up with more than just a measure before bringing it back to the table and setting it down in front of Ed. There were questions. Ed could see them lurking in his eyes, but they were probably more related to payment than any real concern. Wordlessly, he handed over the cash and watched the guy wander away. It could have been just another standard day. If he had fobbed off Hern?s summons with some excuse and headed home he would be crashed out on the sofa by now, talking to Al and enjoying the sound of his voice. It was still new enough to be special, having his brother there in the flesh. Every flash of laughter in his eyes and every expression was still fresh enough to be a blessing rather than mundane. But he couldn?t have gone home like that, shaken and twitchy. Al would have known something was wrong before he had even stepped through the door. Of course, Al would know something was wrong now, but hopefully he could just blame it on the alcohol. If he was lucky ?why? would never be asked. Like ?Why didn?t you see this coming?? Ed tried to slump further, but if he slouched any more he would fall off his chair. Instead he scowled at the tabletop. He had not seen it coming because there was no warning. One minute he?d been muttering something barely civil about what he thought of the army and their resources, and the next? . The next normality had vanished and something mundane had taken on an entirely new slant. It had turned into a hunt, and he had been the prey. ?You could have so much more if you were working under me, Fullmetal.? Hern's lips were close enough to tickle the shell of his ear as his breath ghosted over Ed's skin, spicy with the scent of brandy. The rough hunger in the older man's voice was disturbing enough, but it was the splay of fingers across Ed's back that made him jerk away, his teeth already bared in a snarl. He was not some pet to be stroked! He barely noticed the press of the desk against his hips as he staggered back, desperate for some kind of distance. His hands clenched into fists automatically, ready to lash out, but Hern was fast. In a heartbeat he was standing too close to take a swing at, a wall of man between Ed and the way out. ?Don?t touch me!? It was supposed to be a demand, but the words sounded scared and defenceless as he spat them out. Worse, it was just what Hern wanted. He was not looking for someone to lie back and think of Amestris. He wanted to fight for it and stake his claim. Ed?s hissed words only darkened the gleam in his eyes to something more hungry and perverse. His thoughts turned vacant as Ed tried to force the memories down, but his body was against him, recalling the sickening touches as if they had not stopped. He was a prisoner all over again. The fierce clutch of hands gripped his hips, pressing him back against the desk. A dry palm skimmed shakily under his t-shirt and down the muscles of his stomach towards his fly. Breath fluttered across his face and there was no space to fight or breathe or think. His head was so full with ?what the fuck?? that he didn?t even think to knee the bastard in the crotch - didn?t think to do anything until lips pressed down on his own and that tongue was shoved in his mouth, making him gag. It was instinct. He saw the opportunity and took it, crashing his t...
Mojaunicorn