Violent Leisure ch 2

[skeren]

Title: Violent Leisure
Co-written with severed_sanity
Pairings: This chapter is Roy-centric, we’re going to ultimately end up with at least a GreedxKimbleexRoy
Warnings: Head games, Rape, torture This chapter: getting into after affects and mindsets
Rating: NC-17 without a doubt, this chapter? R
Notes: Yes, I took forever to get this sucker edited, but it takes us longer to put it together, just trust me. There will be more Kimblee-less chapters than anticipated x.x So, people on the GreedxKimblee com, kindly don’t murder me, thank you, it IS planned, without a doubt, even sorta written.
From the planning text: skeren: And we finally jump to something else!!! Yay!!
severed_sanity: *snorts* Took us long enough didn’t it? xD

Chapter one: And don't worry, the other two pieces are linked to the first part.


Roy hadn't really been able to make his way to the surface of his rather dazed frame of mind after the night before. He'd gotten free of the bindings and staggered off to crawl into his bed on auto pilot. He hadn't turned out any lights, nor cleaned any of the messes. There was still blood and seamen all over the tile that had dried rusty by morning. He hadn't even bothered to lock his door, and he never could sleep with it open. It didn’t matter. Instead, he just curled tightly around one of his pillows in his bed and hid under the covers.

He didn't even answer the phone when it rang for him.

The first two times time Maes had tried to call Roy and the man refused to answer, he hadn’t been concerned. However, this was the third time. It was not only grating on his nerves, but it was starting to worry him as well. It wasn't like Roy to just skip work without letting someone, typically him, know about it well in advance. It was usually he who glossed over the absence to keep Roy in good standing with the political parties involved with the military when the man needed to take a breather. If he was going to help push the man to the top he was going to have to deal with these things early. And that meant that he needed some kind of warning. This wasn't like him.

"Damn it Roy pick up the receiver!" The man growled into the phone before slamming it back onto its perch. He'd left the office after the second attempt to head over and the third call was from just down the street. "Sometimes I wonder why I put up with him... or not. It’s probably just because he's my best friend and he enjoys getting a rise out of me."

The rest of the walk went quickly as he practically jogged the remaining three blocks. If he caught Roy lounging in bed with some flavor of the week again, he was going to seriously maim the man. Reaching the familiar door, a hand slipped inside his inner jacket pocket to collect his picks. Only habit led him to test the knob first and the result nearly gave him a heart attack.

What the hell was the door doing unlocked? All thoughts of killing his best friend were tossed aside to make room for worry to spring up. Slowly, he withdrew one of his knives and pushed the door just enough to allow him entry.

The front room was mostly dark, curtains closed with the light shining from around them. It was like Roy hadn't even come into the room the night before of one discounted his overcoat being draped over a chair. The air was still, and it became obvious after a little while that the kitchen light was on, leaving that to be the source of most of the light, dim as it was when filtered out of another room.

Maes waited until his eyes adjusted to the dim light permeating the room before he eased into the room. The light simply wasn't enough to effectively brighten the living area, so he made damn sure not to trip over or run into anything. Not like he would have anyway, he knew Roy's apartment almost better than the man himself did. He'd helped the man move into the place after all, and it didn’t hurt that he was observant. Turning slightly brought his attention to the blue overcoat, only having caught the flash of color. He shook his head over his own jumpiness. That was nothing out of the ordinary, easily dismissed.

He inched closer into the room with a last sweeping glance before he dismissed anything as being out of place. Moving around the living room, he started to look for any sign that Roy was there. He figured that if he found the man passed out in the floor he'd die laughing from relief, then kill him, but if he didn't... well it just made a bit of sense to keep looking. More than likely his friend had just overslept with his pick of the week and hadn't bothered to call him. It was so likely and typically Mustang that Maes nearly turned tail and went back to the office. Something in the air didn't smell right though, and that was what was worrying him.

It smelled like dried blood.

Looking in the direction of the scent drew his gaze to a pale flash of color on the ground, one white glove placed just before the doorway to the kitchen, laying as though tossed carelessly.

What in the hell was going on? There was no way that his friend would just leave those laying around anywhere. They would usually be kept in a small secreted drawer in Roy's nightstand with the extra set that was hidden away just beneath the sink. But lying on the floor, never. Maes quickly sprinted the rest of the way to the entrance and bent to pick up the piece of cloth. He stared at it for a long moment, taking in the red that dotted the tips and frowned over what looked like teeth marks. Standing up, he ventured into the kitchen, intent on turning that damn light off, but froze in slight horror.

The other glove was not too far from the doorway, crumpled much in the manner of the first. But that wasn't what had gotten his attention. No, that was the mess on the floor. The mess that was a splash of dried blood, burnt cloth, oil... and other things. The cloth was dark blues and gold, with blood stiffening parts enough that it might seem to be made of some other material.

The white cloth he had been clutching early fell to the floor, forgotten, when faced with the carnage on the kitchen floor. It was like a train wreck; too horrible to look at but too fascinating to look away. Sick depravity, but he just couldn't turn away from the remains of what must have been one hell of a fight that ended... poorly. The safety of his best friend surged to the surface of his thoughts and he spun away from the kitchen to race down the hallway to Roy's room. He didn't think about knocking or even slowing until he burst into the room to see the curled figure laying on the bed.

"R. . .Roy?" His voice was a little unsteady, only slightly above a whisper.

The man’s immediate reaction was to draw his blankets tighter around himself, as all he registered was that it wasn't Kimblee, and therefore must be someone who he did not want to see him in this condition. He hadn't had enough will left after the night before to get off the remaining tatters of his shirt, intent on crawling into bed to hide himself. He hugged his pillow closer to his chest and buried his face in it. He really didn't register just who was there.

Maes managed to swallow a small lump that formed in his throat, trying to calm his nerves. His friend was actively ignoring him... and after what he seen in the kitchen... he just needed to make sure he was alright. He inched forward and tried again.

"Roy, it's Maes... you didn't show up to work today and didn't call. So I thought I'd pop on over since you weren't answering the phone... Roy, what's going on?"

Maes? Maes was here? He especially couldn't see him like this, and he shivered a little. He couldn't see that he'd messed up so badly. He was supposed to be heading to the top, right? People in those positions did not let things like this happen to them... He didn't even look up, hoping he would just go... Before he started crying again.

He didn't miss the quivering that racked the other man's frame, but he chose to ignore it for now. There was something wrong with his best friend and he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knew just what those other stains were. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to clear away some of the overlaying emotions threatening to spill over the edge. He couldn't break down right now. Later, when he was safely in the arms of his wife, maybe, but not right now. He had someone to take care of… or at least he had to try.

"Roy, please say something. This is your best friend here. At least let me know you're still alive or something. I'm really worried about you." He stopped at the foot of the bed, placing his hands on the bottom rail.

"Not dead." And he still was more or less in shock about that one. The thought came through his near pleading murmur. "Please go, please." He tucked himself closer into the pillow as he felt the tears start up again. This was what, the fifth, sixth time since the night before? It wasn't as though he'd slept. It was just one more thing that he couldn’t afford for Maes to see.

Maes bit his bottom lip at the plea. Roy Mustang didn't plea for anyone or anything. Something was very wrong with his best friend and he'd be damned if he left him alone in this state. He didn't care what he had to do but he was going to find out what was wrong and just who the fucking hell did this. He figured he'd be a bit bruised by the end of this, but he wasn't leaving. He skirted around the edge of the bed and bent down beside the huddled figure. He didn't make a move to touch him just yet but he did lean slightly forward, placing his hands on the edge of the mattress.

"You should know better than to tell me to leave lunkhead. Come on, this is Maes you’re talking to... well, grunting to or whatever. Roy, please. I'm just here to help."

He felt the bed move and he had to look at him at that, breath hitching at the proximity. He didn't want him to see him like this! Of course, his action easily let the other man see his reddened and wet eyes, as well as give him a glimpse of the bright bruise on his cheek. He slid back on the bed a bit, wincing as it pulled his wounds. "I don't grunt." It didn't hold any of his usual snap though, being more an automatic defense.

Maes sucked in a breath and reached an unsteady hand towards Roy's cheek. He shouldn't have tried to touch him since what obviously happened snapped into place within his mind. He was both sickened and saddened that something like that could happen to anyone, but it really hit home when he saw the evidence clearly written in the man's body language. There was no denying the fact that Roy Mustang, the bane of every woman loving man's existence and the fame, often feared Flame Alchemist was laying in bed, curled up like a frightened puppy crying!

Somewhere along the way he'd managed to find his voice though it came out a bit strained and quiet. "You do. Wha- Are you alright?"

He turned his face away from the touch, but it wasn't a frightened action, instead coming across as a sort of rebuke. He wasn't scared of Maes after all, he just didn't want him to see him like this. Especially like this... he'd never have his respect again. He jerked himself out of his thoughts and tried to understand the question. Was he alright? Just what part of him looked like he was alright?

"What do you think?" It was nearly a growl, and he pulled back, keeping the blankets tightly around him as he forced himself to sit up. He'd still been bleeding when he crawled into bed, though he was oblivious to the copper tang that had sunk into his sheets.

Maes let his hand hang in the open air as he stared at his friend with a slightly hurt expression. It dropped back to the mattress. He shouldn't let this get to him since he was used to Roy being miffed at him. Hell, he'd have to have grown a tougher layer of skin just being associated with the man but it still slightly hurt. Oh well, he would get over it quickly enough.

"You look like hell and you reek of something I'm to afraid to confirm. You're not fucking alright and you're being an arse hole." He returned the growl with one of his own. "That about sums it up. Am I close or do you want to continue being difficult?"

The phrasing and tone... Roy flinched back and dropped his gaze. He swallowed so his voice came out mostly even. "I screwed up, okay?"

Maes immediately felt like an ass. He didn't mean to be cross with... okay he did mean it, but damn it, he didn't want to scare the man! God he was fucking up right when it counted. He bit his tongue, hard, and breathed out slowly, looking at the bed sheets. When he could manage an even tone, he looked back at the down turned face. "What did you screw up? Just talk to me."

The injured man closed his eyes tight against the renewed burn of tears and drew in a deep breath, trying desperately to compose himself. "I couldn't attack him... When I finally could he was too close and got my hands."

Maes was immediately on his feet, and he almost grabbed the man in a hug for comfort, but stopped himself from moving before he did. Instead, he relaxed a bit and eased himself down on the edge of the bed, turning his body to still face his friend. "Who ra- did this to you Roy?" He almost screwed up and blurted it out, but he couldn't do that to the man. He needed him to tell him who the bastard was so he could track them down and take his time in dismembering the bastard. But more than anything, he needed Roy to talk to him.

Roy opened his eyes a bit, seeming to have dipped into a bit of a babble, which only made it more difficult for Maes to pick out anything relevant. "I mean, I should have just asked what he wanted and he would have left but... I didn't think... I mean, he's supposed to be dead..." He shook his head a little, moving a hand from the safety of his covers to shakily shove his hair back. The action showed the nail marks on his palms, his own, and his wrists, certainly not his own, as well as the raw bands of skin left from being bound in place.

It took everything the man had not to yank the covers away from Roy's body to see what other bruises and wounds he had on him. The blood crusted restraint marks on his wrists were enough to make Maes see red but it kept getting worse as he looked in more detail. There were bite marks all along his friend's neck, one in particular that would probably need a stitch or two, the welts on the arms... the wrists alone. He wasn't thinking properly as he cataloged the injuries in his mind. "Roy, who? Who is supposed to be dead?" His voice was a whisper.

The dark eyed man moved a little, his usual grace hindered when he decided the pillow was bothering him now and thus kicked it off to the side. It had been in the way of moving his blanket, which he quickly pulled close to his chest. "I… he wanted to know what happened while he was locked up, but he wasn't supposed to be locked up, he was supposed to be executed... He blamed me, and he could because I freaked out back then and the wall..." He shook his head a little.

It felt like talking to a babbling brick wall. Words came out but they didn't go in. He couldn't blame him though, he'd been through something very traumatic and just sitting this close was probably giving the alchemist problems. But Maes refused to move, in fact, he was planning on getting closer. He needed to reassure Mustang that everything wasn't falling apart and that he wasn't alone, but somehow he doubted just reaching out and hugging the guy would win him any brownie points. A broken jaw, maybe, but definitely no brownie points. His eyes followed the pillow's descent to the floor with widened eyes. There were bloodstains all over the casing and he bet that if he looked closely around Roy's lap and bedding, he'd find more blood. Deep rich crimson… and probably other fluids. This was not good.

"Normally I would let you rant your little heart out Mustang, but right now we've got bigger problems." He raised his voice slightly hoping to catch his friend's attention and snap him back to reality. "You're bleeding, or you were, and badly at that. We need to get you cleaned up."

Roy shook his head immediately, tightening the blanket around him as he leaned away from his long time friend. He hadn't lost his respect yet.... but if he saw... he would. He was so certain of it... It was his own damn fault and he knew it. He even knew he told Maes that it was somewhere in there.

"No, no, I don't want you to see me like this." He backpedaled a little, showing a flash of equally raw ankles as he retreated. "I don't think I'm bleeding anymore, really..."

"Even if you have stopped bleeding, laying in it isn't doing you any good. You've got open wounds all over you and if they look as bad as your wrists and ankles... we need to clean you up." It hurt him to see his friend like this, but it hurt worse because he wasn't letting him help. But he couldn't imagine what was going through his mind. Was Roy thinking he would hurt him to? It was stupid but he'd heard about people acting very strangely after something like this, even to close family members. Or did Roy honestly think that he would turn away from him just because he was hurt? It didn't make any sense to Maes, though he tried to piece it together. He wasn't stupid but this was stumping him.

"I'm not going to hurt you and Roy, damn it... we've been friends for over a damn decade so give me a little credit. We danced naked in the rain singing inane songs about the weather, dressed each other’s wounds during the war, and nursed each other's broken hearts. I don't think you've got anything I haven’t seen and I sure as hell won't leave you like this. I'm your best friend, trust me... please?"

He caught a snicker that could have easily turned into a half sob. "I do trust you Maes..." He ducked his head, still hanging onto the blanket for all he was worth. "I just don't want you to see me like this." It was almost a whimper this time, but he didn't seem like he was doing to make a run for it.

"I'm already seeing you like this and you seem to think I'm going to run out the door because of it. I don't understand you sometimes. All I want is to help you, but you're dead set on making my decisions for me today." He sighed heavily. "Actually, that's normal for you, I'm just usually better at manipulating whatever you say to work for me."

Okay so no actual progress was being made here, but Roy was talking so not all was lost. He did, however, want to knock him over the head and give him a hug at the same time. He could be so frustrating and difficult at times and right now was a combination of the two times two. Roy needed a bath, his wounds counted, disinfected, and dressed, something to eat and a nice long nap on clean sheets. He looked like hell and it wasn't just the battered look about him. The poor man looked like he'd done nothing but cry the whole night through. That alone was upsetting enough. It was kind of hard to see a grown man cry over anything let alone his best friend. Disturbing was more the word for it.

"I don't... I..." He took a deep breath and let it back out. "Okay. Okay. I'm pretty sure I only have a scrape on my back, from when he slammed me into the wall." And he'd smacked his head pretty good at that point too. He eased off his grip on the blanket a little.

"Will you let me take a look at it?" He was hoping for the best with that question. If he'd let him see his back, then maybe he could talk him into letting him take a look at his wrist and ankles. The rest he could argue with him about later. "Are you in a lot of pain? I could get you some meds from the bathroom." And a washcloth, but he didn't say that part.

"I stopped feeling the pain about five hours ago I think... I'm a bit numb at the moment." That certainly explained why his actions seemed so off at least. He hadn't been moving like he was pained after all, just unlike himself.

"You know that's not good don't you? You might have lost more blood than either of us care to think about." He muttered quietly and adjusted his position on the bed. The movement was small and slow as not to set Roy off again. He didn't need him to be scared right now, though he doubted it would be the case. "So going to let me take a look at your back? Or want to start with your wrists?"

"They aren't as bad as the burns or knife marks..." He extended one of his arms from the covers, showing the burns that started at about his elbow to meet frayed and burned cloth from the shirt he hadn't ever fully removed.

Maes reached out and gently cupped Roy's arm in his hands, looking over the limb intensely. How the hell had this happened? Roy Mustang was a tough cookie to crack, sure he had his insecurities and peeves but anyone would be hard pressed to get one over on the man; so how in the hell did some guy attack him in his own home? He had to take a calming breath before his anger seeped out.

"They may not be as bad but they're raw and are going to need a good cleansing. Thankfully these welts aren’t that deep." He wanted to ask, again, who had attacked him because he was feeling a bit murderous.

"The nail marks are the oldest, he was a bit peeved I shoved him away." He peered at his wrist, almost smiling at that, then it faded. "Then he bit me and it completely caught me off guard."

Maes pulled a small handkerchief from his pocket and began to clean away some of the blood and grime collecting against deep raw rivets of his friend's wrist. He tried to be gentle but he knew that it had to be hurting like a mother. They looked awful, but far better than what he feared when he took into account the nasty marks along the ashen neck. Was it weird that he was the one having the emotional breakdown and the victim was treating this like it was nothing more than a bad night at the bar? Why could things never be simple in his life? Wait… they could be, but that would mean leaving his long time friend alone and that just wasn't an option.

Another swipe of the cloth he caught himself running a soothing pattern in the man's palm with his thumb. He turned a sad smile upwards, "I think we should take this to the bathroom Roy. Think you can make it?"

He stared down at his hand for a moment before shaking his head slowly, teeth nibbling at his very abused lower lip. "No, I'm not even sure how I got back in here actually..."

Alright, new problem. Normally this would be relatively easy to handle. All he needed to do was haul Roy into his arms and carry him into the bathroom to have a soak. It wasn't very hard since Roy had always been the smaller of the two, much to the other man's displeasure. Maes wouldn't have any trouble with a regular unaffected perfectly fine Roy Mustang... but truth to be told was that this wasn’t the normal everyday Flame alchemist he was use to dealing with. This Roy before him was traumatized by something far worse than the horrors of war, not so much the one that he'd been friends with since time began. This Roy was an abused and broken form of the one he knew. He had to take this slowly and be very careful along the way. Maes scooted a couple of inches closer and kept his tone light. "Right, then the only course of action is I carry you. It'll probably hurt, but it'll be better than walking on wobbling legs."

A flush of shame rose to his face and he sighed a little. "Go ahead. I'm not that bad off you know, not really." And that, of course, was why he was curled up in bloody blankets with unnumbered untended wounds. Because he wasn't that bad off. That wasn't convincing even to himself.

He chose to ignore the pink cheeks, getting out of the bed and heading into the bathroom instead. He breathed deeply as he sat on the edge of the porcelain tub, drawing up a soothingly warm bath. Though he didn't want to trek into the kitchen for the salt he was going to have to add to the water he knew he'd have to find something to replace the element. He looked around the bath only to find nothing, not a damn thing he could think of that would be the right equal. Oh well, they'd deal without the properties. For now there was soap, alcohol, peroxide, and plenty of towels. They'd get through this. During the time in the bath he'd taken his jacket off and rolled his sleeves up to the elbow. Only with that fortification did he reenter his friend's bedroom. With a small smile, he approached the bed. "Alright, let's get you into the tub then. No splashing though."

"You make me sound like a four year old." He inched to the edge of the bed, not wanting to be dragged off of it, even by accident. "I'd much rather just get this over with. I'm sure I'll get feeling back after."

"Don't tempt me to compare you to a child. That would be like shooting fish in a barrel and you know it." He was glad that there was real humor in his voice instead of something fake and forced that he just knew Mustang would pick up on. Roy disliked anything false about his friends or at least that's what he’d learned, and he thought he had a pretty good handle on the man. But this incident had thrown everything he knew for a loop. It was like speaking with a long time stranger. He bent slightly and looped Roy's arm around his neck before hoisting the man into his arms, trying to be as gentle as he could. It didn't help that he had to heave him twice to get the weight adjusted just right in his grip before heading into the bathroom.

Once inside he moved towards the steaming tub and sat down on the edge. "Gaining weight there pal? Not as light as I remember, but least we made it here without any spills. I'll help you in then grab a rag for us both."

He raised an eyebrow at Maes with that. "It could possibly be because last time you even had a chance to carry me around I hadn't been eating as much as I am now." Not to say he'd really had any time for food. He wasn't really chubby now either. "Or maybe you just can't carry as much now."

Maes frowned down at himself as he helped slide Roy into the soothing comfort of the water filled tub. When he was fully into the tub, he poked at his stomach, then his arms. "Bah, I think I'm growing soft. Being stuck behind a desk all day has its advantages and disadvantages. And this is sadly the disadvantage." He shook his head sadly then turned an amused smirk towards Roy. "Guess I could always come by and use you as a make shift dumb-bell."

Roy gave him an annoyed look and finally started to ease off his blanket, though when he looked to the water he grimaced as it promptly started to turn pink. "Yes, well, you can just get that idea out of your head right now."

"Oh I don't know now Roy. Kinda sounds like a good idea. Least I know my dodging skills would improve. I'm sure I'd have a few singed hairs here and there but all in all it's exercise and I need more of that." He laughed at the familiar cross look he usually got from his alchemist buddy. If looks could kill, he would have been dead ages ago, but Roy really made it to easy to mess with him. Maes quickly went to grab a few rags and extra towels, placing the towels on the sink and taking the rags to the tub where he, instead of resuming his spot on the edge, knelt in the floor. He dipped two of the rags into the water and lathered them up with the soap lying just to the right before handing Roy one of them.

Roy released the blanket, shoving it away him himself over the far rim of the tub before taking the offered item. Burns, cuts, bites, bruises, they became lividly obvious the moment the covering was out of the way, and it seemed like they were everywhere. It stopped the man from replying in kind to the jest as he looked at himself.

He ground his teeth together at the sight of blaring red against far too pale skin. It was obvious that whomever had done this wasn't going to have the pleasure of a trial if he found the man first. He was going to see just how much control he truly had on his little knives tucked away in his clothing. Those sharp blades seemed to be calling for blood of the damned soul that did this and Maes was listening to their demands with unobstructed clarity. "I'll. . . start on your shoulders, alright?"

Roy moved the cloth in his hands across his palms, eyeing the darkening water in an almost fascinated manner. Had he lost so much? How had he even stayed awake so long? "Go ahead then." True to his word, in complete contrast to his ravished front, his back was almost entirely untouched.

Maes’ hands had a hard time moving over the mostly unblemished skin. It wasn't that he was afraid to touch his friend, it was more he was afraid to cause him any more discomfort. There was a good sized bruise along the middle shoulder blades and upper back, he figured this was the result of the slam in the wall that had been mentioned. He tried to glide over it gently, taking some of the ash and muck left behind from the obliterated jacket and undershirt. As he sat there, washing without really cleaning, he had a strange thought that made his chest tighten.

"I almost came by last night to see if you wanted to have a drink." Why hadn't he? He could have prevented this from happening or at least been there to kill the bastard that had ambushed his friend.

Roy tipped his head down a little and let out a breath. "I think… I'm glad you didn't... You'd be dead." His voice was a little shaky, and he swallowed that. "I have no idea why I'm not dead."

"How do you know I'd be dead? I could have gotten the bastard with you there to back me up!" He wanted to yell it out in his anger but it came out subdued. He still had know clue who had done this and Roy wasn't giving him straight answers yet. He knew it would take time but damn it, it was taking to long. He needed information so he could track the sick fucker down and... and well. Alright so maybe revenge wasn't his to be had but it would make him feel a hell of a lot better.

After a long pause, Maes managed to continue. "Lady Luck likes you for some reason. You always were a lucky bastard." He didn't know what else to say.

"Was I? Maybe so." He shook his head a little and leaned forward a bit to let Maes at more of his back. "And... I just know... he's like that. He was like that before and that's why I thought they executed him like they said they did... but they didn't... The military can be so stupid."

The pale eyed man pushed the rag further down his spine, finally hitting at some rusty blood smattered against the skin. The majority of the coppery blood had liquefied and mingled with the water but there was some that was still being persistent. He pressed slightly to rub at the grit.

"Who though Roy, who? You know this person and I feel like I should know him to. And what about the wall you keep mentioning?" He was more than confused and just hoped Roy would be provide him with answers.

Roy gritted his teeth a little then relaxed under the action that was doubtlessly painful, still washing his hands, seeming to be very focused on it. "I panicked and blew up the wall... He was still mad at me for getting him caught like that when he got here..." He moved to his forearms at last, head tilted down. "It was years ago."

"During the war then... that narrows down the people it could be." He muttered to himself, trying to filter through all the names and faces he could remember from that time in their lives. It shouldn't be that hard to figure out who Roy was referring to, but his disturbed thoughts just refused to focus on anything properly. He gave up with a sigh. "Holding a grudge since then... I hate to say it, but someone like that, I don't know why you aren't dead either."

"He was always weird about me... liked playing games. Never this kind, but he liked messing with my head too much... Trying to say I was like him..." He almost growled that, then shook his head, more actively attacking the blood on his skin.

Maes jerked at the action dropping his own rag into the water as he surged forward to grab at Roy's arm. "Whoa whoa there. Don't go opening those any more than they already are. Unless you want me to go get a doctor, or take you to one, then we have to be careful. I can only do so much on my own Roy." He didn't like the implications of what his friend had said either. So this person, who he was now assuming to be another alchemist, had been messing with Roy during the war. Playing mind games that resulted in something a bit darker than he cared to think about. And then there was the wall. What was so special about the wall, Roy, and this man? He had some vague thought flitter around his outer thoughts but for the life of him he couldn't draw it into focus. That left Roy to fill in the blanks.

"You are not like this monster, for lack of a better term without being more vulgar. You wouldn't do something like this to someone else. He's a depraved individual that should have been killed the day he was born. Nothing like him..."

Roy snickered a little under his breath with that, releasing the cloth from his hands when Maes moved to stop him from scrubbing is wounds open. He tipped his head to look at his friend. "I wouldn't do this, no... it's too destructive, he admitted that at least..." It was a murmur. "He knows I don't like destruction very much."

Maes kept the gaze steady as he bent towards the man's battered face. "You are nothing like him. Don't even let the thought nest in that hard head of yours. You may not be perfect, but you're human. I don't think whoever he is ever was." He broke the stare and went to retrieve his rag, letting Roy's arm go gently. "You know, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you prefer strategy over combat. You always have. It's why I refuse to play chess with you anymore. You're to damn good at seeing the all the possible moves before the first piece is moved."

He looked away again with a wry twist on his lips. "I've been wondering how right he was for years Maes..." He fingered one of the few scars he'd had before this... he already knew he'd have a scar from the bites, if not more. "Yes, I do prefer strategy, it's part of the reason he used to drag me along with him on the raids..."

There was that nagging unfocused thought again. Roy was always going on raids with the other elemental alchemists. There were a few that he'd been paired with that held other talents like Armstrong... Maes involuntarily shuddered as an image of an overly sparkled Armstrong crossed his vision. "Don't do that. Don't compare yourself to him. Do I have to go pound it into your head that you are nothing like this guy?"

He ran his fingers back and forth over the scar on his lower torso, ignoring the fresh wounds littering him entirely. "It wouldn't get you anywhere Maes... it's an old habit by now. I... I just wish I had been able to attack him... but I couldn't! I just... couldn't until he was far too close."

"Stop blaming yourself for what happened. Just stop." His soapy hand rested lightly on the warm flesh of Roy's back. "It's not your fault, no matter how you slice it. You may have missed your opportunity to attack him but that doesn't mean that you wanted this to happen." He knew this was random but he had to know. "What about the wall. You mentioned it and how it got him caught but what about it?"

"I hadn't really remembered it until he reminded me. Yes I'd remembered, I mean, it's not like something a person forgets... but he had to remind me... He was still mad about it. Because it got him caught, and then they didn't kill him. They said they killed him damn it." He narrowed his eyes at the dark bath water. "You know what he said about that whole thing back then? 'You could have just said no'... Damn bastard."

"You... you mean he tried this back then?! That fucking bastard..." He growled under his breath and got to his feet. He needed to calm down again because being angry right now wouldn't do either of them any good. He walked over to the medicine cabinet to grab the alcohol and rubbing pads before going back over to the tub. He needed to disinfect some of those cuts and welts before they got any worse. He didn't discuss what he was going to do, just poured some of the clear liquid onto a pad and started to clean a wound on Roy's neck.

He let out a little hiss then closed his eyes, holding still for him to tend the wound. "No... He only kissed me before I toppled the wall... right in front of the authorities actually. If I'd just asked what he wanted instead of why the hell he was alive, I'd be fine. Not thinking again though." He muttered the last bit darkly.

The pad stopped mid-stride on the neck as Maes realized exactly who they'd been talking about. The name slammed into him like a freight train, almost sending him onto his backside. So that was the bastard that hurt his best friend. "Kimblee." Oh he remembered Kimblee from the war, but he'd never met the man personally. He was just another alchemist among the thousands of others that were fighting side by side the enlisted men and women. But the Crimson alchemist was a force of destructive power not to be messed with. He was demented on the field, so he heard, and enjoyed blowing things up a tad too much. If he'd gotten a hold of Roy back then... the man truly was a lucky bastard.

Roy shivered a little. "I never could attack him." He ducked his head, letting out a shaky breath. "Bastard was so damn rational about the whole thing. I can point out exactly where if I'd done things differently then this wouldn't have happened. I had more than one chance and I fumbled them." He was mad at himself, clearly and without dispute.

"He got to you didn't he? He got inside of your head." He said in realization. That's what the problem was. Kimblee somehow managed to wiggle his way past Roy's usually tight defenses and bored a hole into the man's psyche. Perfect weapon if there ever was one before. If Kimblee managed to break down Roy's carefully laid securities, then he could clearly see how this had happened and why his friend was still alive. But he wasn't going to tell Roy what he thought... he wasn't going to tell him that it wasn't over either. As long as Kimblee was still alive and able he would always try to hurt Roy. It was his job to make sure that didn't happen. Maybe he should talk to Hawkeye... but then again, he didn't want to loose Roy's trust by telling anyone of what happened.

Roy ducked his head to stare sightlessly at the blood darkened water, skimming soapy fingers over the surface of it, popping the few bubbles there. "I think he might have. But if he did, it was a long time ago. A very, very, long time ago."

"This water needs to be changed. Think you can stand for a shower?" He smacked his head after the last bit and retracted it. "Never mind, that's a no. Let's get you sitting on the edge so I can change the water, then we can wash your hair out and get you dried off, dressed, and back in bed." He stood again and sat the bottle he'd be using to the side along with the pads.

He levered himself up, still staring downwards rather blankly. Some of the worst of the injuries had been hidden under the water, the burns being the worst and rather close to being a few very painful areas. And of course... there's the fact that he was ripped as well. But, he was paying little attention. It was just amazing the blood loss hadn't killed him.

Maes felt tired. He wasn't getting anywhere with getting Roy patched up and seeing what still lay ahead... this wasn't working out the way he'd hoped. But what had he really hoped for anyway? That the bruises and blood would all vanish with the water down the drain and Roy would be magically better? Sadly, some part of him had honestly hoped that would be the case and that this was just some elaborate dream. Any minute he would wake up next to his wife covered in sweat from the night chills. But it was real and that tore his heart into pieces. This was reality and no matter how much he wished it all to be a very bad dream it wasn't going to go away. And there was Roy... Roy would never be the same again.

He reached into the darkened water and pulled the plug to the tub watching the water swirl down into the abyss of the drain. His smile was one of desperate sadness. This was too much for him, it all was. Who was he kidding? He was the man's best friend but he was fucking helpless. There wasn't anything he could do but just take up space. And it was obvious he couldn't handle this by himself. He watched continuing red trickle towards the hole in the tub and knew he had a hard choice in front of him. He stood up on shaky legs and gazed at his friend with guilt filled eyes.

"Roy, I think..." He shook his head and cursed himself under his breath. No, he would wait. He was a coward and he would wait. First get his friend clean, dry, and comfortable... then confront him.

Roy lifted his head to stare at Maes for a moment before turning on the water himself since his friend seemed to be frozen in place now. He had only the vaguest of ideas what was going on in his head beyond that he wouldn't be pleased with whatever it was. But... even though he couldn't read his best friend, he could read his attacker? No... that wasn't what he'd done at all. Tossing that thought away from his mind almost physically, he glanced back to Maes. "I have burn cream under the sink, it should bring the welts down."

It took the sound of falling water to snap him out of his self-imposed trance. He didn't mean to be silent nor a coward but he didn't want to loose his friend over what needed to be done. Maes didn't think he could truly live through that, as schmaltzy as that sounded, it was close to the truth. He didn't think he would be able to handle losing Roy in any form. He didn't want him lost to despair nor through guilt; he didn't want him to be driven away by him either. But he had a feeling that it would end up that way. With a heavy sigh, Maes headed over to the sink and looked for the burn cream.

Roy slid back into the nearly scalding water, then started to rinse himself, eyes half closing. It hurt like hell, on the burns especially, but the heat was soothing as nothing else so far had been. Maes... Well, he'd likely not be pleased he'd omitted any cold water this time.

Maes eyed the cream in his hand with a lazy smile. Turning back to his friend he commented, "It shouldn't be nearly as funny as it is to me that you have burn cream. I just have the weirdest images of our times in school when you use to catch our desks on fire to get us out of class."

Roy blinked a couple times as he tried to catch up to the topic before he shook his head a little. "Kindly don't freak out on me Maes, two of us don't need to be doing that." He then slid under the water to give his hair a quick rinse before he pushed himself back up, though he was barely surfaced. The almost hot water felt very nice... even if it stung like a bitch.

He gave Roy a strange look as he settled back by the edge, "What? Didn't know you wanted to corner the market on breakdowns. Sorry, feel free to continue with yours. You've effectively crushed mine." He shook his head and plunged his hand down by his friend's leg only to yelp and fall backwards clutching his stinging hand. "What the holy hell Mustang!" He exclaimed angrily when he managed to get words past his tightly clenched lips.

He knew the other man wasn't burned, it wasn't quite hot enough for that, but it was close. He sat up a little more and offered him the item he'd been going for, a faint smile on his lips. "Did you see me turn on any cold water?"

"You're being an arse, but thank you." He grabbed the cream and smoothed a small amount over his arm. The chill it brought with it was wonderfully welcome but probably not needed. This was just a shock more than a hurt but he was still smarting from it. "Why the hell not? You planning to cook yourself like some stew? That is not helping the situation Roy." He reached up and turned the cold tap on, letting it run until the temperature evened out.

He made a somewhat disappointed noise as he watched Maes insert cold water into his bath, but he didn’t try to get in the way. "It wasn't hot enough to burn me Maes..." He was pouting, most definitely pouting. Now that his reason for being almost fully submerged was gone, he sat up so Maes could reach him decently.

"Well it was enough for me and I count at the moment. The goal is to get you clean, not to cook you." He argued while he retrieved his rag and the wayward soap. "Won't be long now that most of everything came off the first time. But we'll definitely be working on those cuts when we get you back to bed. Think you can handle it alone and let me go clean up the bed room?"

He really didn't want to leave Roy by himself. Oh he was sure the man wouldn't do anything rash or something like that, but he just needed to be near him, to see him, to make sure he was alright. It was silly, but he was very protective of his friends and most especially this one. That's probably why this hurt so much. He wasn't there to spare Roy this pain and in turn the guilt of that was making him clingy. He was a complete sentimental sap. How the hell did he live this long again?

Roy blinked a couple times as he processed the question, and well and truly showed how out of it he'd been. "It needs cleaning?" He took the items from Maes' hands anyway, feeling fully capable of finishing up. There were some places he'd rather not be touched anyway.

"Yes, Roy. It needs cleaning. Nothing major, but definitely don't want you crawling back on your sheets right now. And since I'm no alchemist, I'm going to have to just flip your mattress for now." The words were tossed over his shoulder as he headed back into the bedroom. He wanted to give Roy some private time anyway. There were things they would need to discuss soon, and he needed the time to himself as well. Besides, he didn't want to make the alchemist uncomfortable when he went to wash himself and he sure as hell wasn't going to attempt trying to clean him down there while the man was awake. He preferred to live thank you very much.

The bed was a complete mess and the smell of blood and sex permeated the air once you got closer. This wasn't something he wanted either of them to be subjected to for the rest of the day. He took off the pillows first, making sure that the cases were tossed in a pile at the end of the bed. Then came the bed covers. The main ones were twisted and mangled beyond recognition, laying off the far side. They too were slightly blood stained and reeked. It made him wonder just how long his friend had laid in bed letting his lifeblood just flow freely. He also wondered if Roy had even cared he was bleeding to death.

"Alright so you don't know if you can actually bleed to death from... well, from there. But it's possible." Maes muttered to himself when he tugged off the last of the bed sheets and gathered the entire mess in his arms. He paused briefly in the hall to listen for sounds out of the bathroom before heading toward the laundry room with the pile.

Roy closed his eyes for a moment, then went for simplicity and sketched a little array on the side of the tub with some blood from his blanket, activating it so that the water was even hotter than before Maes had added the cold. That done, he rinsed off the mark, starting to deal with the burns on the insides of his thighs and the cuts near his groin.

He didn't really want to even try to touch further back yet, he didn't trust his own reactions.

The last pillowcase was safely tucked into the washing machine before he turned the water on. Usually his wife did this type of thing but he wasn't completely useless around the house. He just liked to stay as far away from the kitchen as possible, though he was actually pretty alright with simple dishes. No complex cooking for Maes Hughes or the neighborhood might suffer. This chore was done... now to flip the mattress and redress the bed. Then check on Roy. He was being very quiet, but he hadn't expected singing or anything. Though if the familiar bars of "Night Time Rider" came floating anywhere near his ears he knew he'd break down laughing right there in the floor. Gods they were weird when they were young.

Maes made his way to the laundry's pantry to pull out new sheets, pillowcases, and a spare comforter he'd used the last time he camped out at his friend's place. Thing probably hadn't been used since, but it still smelled fresh. When he reentered the bedroom he noted that the smell had diminished some but was still prevalent. The first order of business, after dropping the items beside the bed, was to open a window and try to air the place out. A candle would be nice as well but he didn't want to go searching for one.

Roy finally worked up the nerve to clean the last of himself, listening intently to Maes moving around his home. It never failed to amaze him how utterly domesticated the man could be given half a chance. Not that he usually got one, but that wasn't the point... and he was trying to distract himself from his last chore here.

He sank down into the water, relaxing into the welcoming heat. He should have made it hotter... maybe after it cooled down a little. He then dealt with the part of himself that hurt the most, not rushing because he didn't want it to hurt worse. Once that was out of the way, he got a bit more blood and heated the water further, not enough to do more than singe him a little, but he really wanted to be comforted, and this was his most welcomed way to get that. That was one thing he'd loved about Ishbal, it had never been cold.

Maes was thankful it was a nice day out and the breeze was especially high today. Otherwise the stifling heat that rushed him after all the activity would have had him diving for the cooler. It wasn't particularly hot outside, just mildly pleasant with a slight hint of promising summer nights soon to come. He couldn't wait for that but then again, he enjoyed the last dredges of spring that refused to give way to the oppressing heat that threatened every year in Central.

He sat down on the newly flipped and made bed while he went over in his head what he wanted to tell Roy. Most of it was just garbage that wouldn't do anyone any good other than to get things off their chests. Neither needed that right now. But he did need to broach the subject of a doctor. Roy wouldn't like it, would probably get violent, but he needed someone with actual knowledge of how to help, someone that was schooled in the healing arts that seemed far too complex for him. If it was something more than what he'd experienced during the war or those household accidents that everyone was prone to, then he was a complete dunce and there was no way he'd subject his friend with his sub-par skills. Besides, he didn't know what to do. He needed a professional’s help and whether Roy liked it or not, so did he.