Chapter Fifteen

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I cried writing this, so you damn well better cry too, dammit! *Sniffles* *Grabs tissues* Dammit, not enough tissues. -_- :'(

~Kala~

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"What the Hell do you think you're doing to Edward, Roy Mustang?"

Roy froze in the act of getting off of Edward. He hadn't heard anyone come in...but...that voice! He knew that voice. His body began to shake, phis hands trembling, his irises shrinking. It just wasn't possible, it couldn't be. Unless he was completely doped up on drugs he didn't take, there was no possible way in Hell that the person he thought he just heard was actually here. It had been too many years since he'd heard that voice, and he had known, or, rather, thought, that he would never get to hear the voice again. It just was not logically possible that he was, though. With the drugs out, there was just no other scenario he could think of that would be able to make sense of any of this. There was just no way, it couldn't be, how could he be here? How could his dead best friend be here, right now, talking to him?

"M-M-M-Maes?" He spluttered, turning his head to look over his shoulder. He could feel the tears swelling up in his eyes as he looked at his best friend. The best friend that was supposed to be dead!

"What the Hell, Roy?" Maes growled, stalking over to where Mustang was still perched atop Edward and slugging him right in the face. His fist connected with Roy's cheek and he went flying across the room, crashing into the opposite wall. His cheek stung where Maes had hit him and he knew it was going to bruise, but right now that was the least of his worries. His dead best friend was running to him now, pulling back his right fist and punching him in the face, again, and again and again. There was fury in those moss-coloured eyes, and the dim light in the room glinted off his glasses, momentarily blocking Roy's eyesight as he struggled to make sense of what was happening.

Maes hit him a few more times, and when he was done both he and Roy were panting for breath.

"What are you doing Maes?" Roy gasped, unable to believe that his dead friend was slugging the Hell out of him.

"I should ask the same question of you, bastard!" Maes snarled at him. "Why the Hell are you hurting poor Ed? Don't you think he's been through enough in his life?"

Roy was speechless. The answer was on the tip of his tongue, itching to escape his lips and be spoken, but he couldn't bring himself to. What would his best friend think of him if he knew the answer? Maes Hughes, the kindest, most forgiving man on the face of the planet, would hate him, if he knew the reason. He couldn't have that. He didn't think he would be able to cope if that happened. For a few beats, they were both silent, and out of the corner of Roy's eye he watched Edward crawl painfully to the door, propping himself up beside it and panting for breath, his bloodshot eyes glaring at Roy, his entire body shaking, bleeding. All that beautiful blood, it was going to waste, cascading around his body before falling to the floor, but it was so fascinating to watch-

"I've been watching you for a long time, Roy." Maes said softly, but with a definite edge to his voice. "Ever since I died, I've been watching everything you've done. And for a while, I was proud of you.

"But the you started beating up Edward for no reason.

"At least, no good reason.

"For months I've watched everything you've done to him, and, at first, while I was disgusted in you, I figured it would only take a few times and you'd realize what you were doing was wrong, and you'd stop. But you didn't, did you? You kept going, kept making everything worse and worse for Edward, threatening him with his brother, and then his Teacher. I'll never not be disgusted in you for that, Roy." Roy's heart clenched, and he realized that Maes' earlier question had been simply rhetorical. He didn't need Mustang to tell him his reasons; he already knew them. "Your reasons for doing it all are revolting, Roy, and I can't believe you ever started. That you still do it.

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