Bad Blood [Fullmetal Alchemist, Kimblee: reaction]
Title: Bad Blood
Author: seta_suzume
Words: 2,002
Theme: Table 2, #2 reaction
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Unpleasant imagery, blood
Disclaimer: FMA doesn't belong to me~ I will put back the toys when I'm done!
Author's comments: So here I am back at this about a year later. ^^; This one is sort of post-Roy/Kimblee, set pre-series, but after Ishval.
"I suppose you don't have any reason to visit me anymore," Sol said. Her smile was smile and tight, filled with conflicting emotions. Prison was making the thin woman gaunt, and her pale skin porcelain. Roy could see the scarring on her arms from where needles had been roughly used to pipe drugs into her. Sol's heavy eyelids drooped lower over her narrow, golden eyes. She looked tired. Her stomach said a lot for her.
"I miscarried," she told him anyway.
But was that a tragedy to Sol, or merely a fact? Roy halted at the notion of it as a relief. If she'd wanted to terminate the pregnancy, he didn't doubt she could have found the means to do it sooner. These sixteen weeks had been her decision. He had been doing his best to prepare. He didn't have much time for a child with his career, but the Madame had agreed to do a big part of raising him or her. Roy found he was simultaneously horrified and warmed by the fantasies his mind cobbled together of his life with his child). Two days earlier some foolish caprice had tickled him into buying his first thing for the baby- a tiny white and blue hat.
Roy bit his lip. To anyone else he would proclaim his utmost sympathy, but was that the right thing to say to Kimblee?
His lips parted, but she preempted his thoughts with her next comment, "It was a girl. I'm sorry. I suppose the world wasn't ready for a child as beautiful and intelligent as ours would've been." She paused, but not long enough for Roy to gather his thoughts. Her eyes looked strange and glossy through her eyelashes. "I suppose I'll never see you again after this, so you might as well go now. Back to your barracks, your office, your beer hall- whatever kind of place you favor these days, Roy Mustang."
Why was it that those words stung? "Sol, I will..." Sure, this hadn't been started by anything like love, but wasn't he the kind of guy who... She would be sad, wouldn't she, never to see him again? "I won't forget about you. I promise I'll come see you again."
"I will be here until they decide to kill me."
Did she have to deliberately make this as difficult as possible? Part of Roy was so sick of all this that he wanted to turn around and walk out of Sol's life right then, forever. But he was a better person than she was. At least that was what he kept telling himself. They were both killers. "I know." He would bear it. "Even if it's difficult. Even if it's embarrassing. As long as I'm able, I'll continue to come every so often."
"If I were in your shoes, I wonder if I would do the same thing."
"I don't care about that." This was the way things were. There was no use in speculating.
They sat quietly for a while, just looking at one another. Eventually Sol seemed to perk up (the sedatives must have nearly run their course). "I don't imagine you would marry me, but then you could file for a conjugal visit and try again." She placed one hand gingerly over her stomach. "I'm not sure it would end any better though."
"Hmm," Roy nodded. It seemed like the best response he could think of.
"I really enjoyed when you were rough with me," Sol admitted, somewhat coy. "I daydream about it sometimes."
"I won't touch you like that ever again," Roy answered.
"Oh. So I guess all I get are the memories then. ...Does that mean you've learned your lesson?"
"That beautiful things can be poisonous? Yeah. I'll be careful what I sink my teeth into for the rest of my life because of you."
"Does Miss Sniper know about us, Roy? If you mean to keep this up, you'll have to tell her sometime," Sol stood up and leaned slightly closed to him.
"She doesn't know. Not yet. But there's more to her than you realize, Kimblee." He didn't feel any hesitation in regard to this. Riza was a major part of his strength. He supposed a lone wolf like Sol couldn't understand that. "Take care of yourself. You don't want to die here before the date they've scheduled for you, right?"
"Do I really look that bad?" Sol stroked a dangling lock of hair away from her face.
"I've never seen you look so poor," Roy admitted. What effect would telling her so have on her? "What happened this morning must be really bothering you."
Sol let her gaze drift away from Roy's eyes. "I'm sick."
And then nothing else. What did she mean by that? Sol had to be harder to understand than any other person he knew. So what should he tell her? "Try and get some rest."
"You're already leaving? It feels like you just got here. I wish we could talk longer."
That desire to chat at least could probably be dubbed sincere. She always loved to talk. "Even if I don't expect anyone will show up and throw me out, there is a time limit to our visit I should observe. ...Don't you trust me to come again?"
"You'll come," Sol answered. She didn't say anything about trust.
"Goodbye, Kimblee."
"Goodbye, Mustang. I'll be waiting for you."
He nodded and walked away, turning back at the last minute for one final look. Sol was gazing directly at him, her neutral, toothless smile punctuated by a furrow between her eyebrows. He turned back to face away from her as fast as he could manage. It wouldn't have been easy, but he'd wanted to see that child born. He'd wanted to hold and feed and play with and teach his undoubtedly beautiful daughter. The only ones he had told were Maes and his aunt. Leaving the women's prison, he went immediately to make a phone call.
"I'm so sorry, Roy-boy." Madame Christmas offered her sympathies, but her investigator's instincts didn't falter for a second. Once she felt enough distance had been placed between Roy and the immediacy of his pain, she raised her delicate question. "I hate to have to say something like this to you, dear, but did anyone tell you what caused the miscarriage?"
The fear he had felt before struck Roy cold. The madame knew better than him- about pregnancy, about women. "Do you really think she...?"
The way his voice cracked, Chris all but winced, but compassion for her nephew wouldn't change either the facts or her tough way of examining them. "Now that it's happened, ultimately, it doesn't change much, but... Well, it's something to think about."
"I'm not going to as her." Roy bit down on his lower lip, pressing down harder and harder, forcing his mind to split its focus with the other, harsher pain.
"Because you think she'll just lie to you? She sounds like a piece of work, but you can always ask the medical staff-"
"No, you might be right, but it's not that." He let up on his lip, though he could still feel the lingering impressions of his teeth. "I already made a promise to Kimblee. That I would keep visiting her once in awhile even though she lost the child. And you didn't raise me to be the kind of man who breaks his words," Roy went on before Chris had a chance to reply. "Sure, it hurts not knowing for certain, but if I found out that she did do something, I'd never be able to stand even looking at her again. I need to leave the easier possibility open for my own sake."
There was a long pause before Madame Christmas said anything, and Roy found himself wondering if his declaration had even made sense. "You wouldn't have let her see that child. You didn't make that promise even though she lost the baby- you did it because she did."
"...You're right." It was no surprise. She knew him pretty well. "But think about So- Kimblee if she didn't do that to herself. No one but me comes to see her. Her own family doesn't contact her. Sooner or later they're going to put her in front of the firing squad. She might be crazy, but everyone knows she could tell right from wrong. Whatever time she would have had with her baby, however short, might have been the last happiness she would have had in her life."
It was hard stuff for Chris to hear as something of a mother to Roy. She'd never met Sol Kimblee, but she didn't trust the woman as far as she could throw her. Her poor Roy-boy deserved better than this, but all she could do was offer him her advice and opinion. "If you feel bad because you gave your word, you could go back and apologize to her- tell her you can't manage it. I don't think it would hurt her much, Roy-boy. You told me yourself there's no love between you. A pragmatic gal like that would understand."
"I- I just can't. I don't have much time to spare for her, but what little I have, I'll share."
"Does that nice Hawkeye girl know about this?"
***
It was uncomfortable to have the wooden stocks pushing into her stomach, so Sol put her hands behind her head as she lay on her bunk. It was nice to see Roy. He might not understand her, but Sol didn't expect understanding. He spoke to her in a kind enough fashion and she could coax a tidbit or two out of him about the outside world. It was good that he could keep coming.
Maybe it was a side effect of the medication, but Solf's stomach wouldn't seem to settle. From the way Roy had looked at her, she could tell she looked at least half as bad as she felt. When she closed her eyes, the twitching of her insides only became more pronounced with less outside stimuli to distract her mind. On the undersides of her eyelids, all she could see was blood, running down insides of her legs. Sol had never found the sight of blood bothersome in other contexts, but something about this made her uncomfortable. The blood was warm and sticky on her cold skin.
She turned onto her side, wishing she could just wrap her arms around herself... "A girl, huh?" That would have been her preference. There were generally more women born in her family. She knew exactly what name she would have (had) chosen. What happened, she wondered idly, to a person when they died? To someone who had never even been born? It brought neither comfort nor despair to her. These were simply thoughts. In her mind's eye, she could see again that morning's blood on her fingers.
"Hey, Kimblee," Officer Levesque peeked in on her as she made her rounds, "I heard what happened to you this morning. You hanging in there?"
"You won't lose me yet, Levesque." Talking was normal, natural. It felt good. "Do you have any children of your own, officer?"
"Not that it's any of your business, Kimblee, but I don't," Ellen answered her. "Carry on."
That was all she'd pry from that one. Sol listened to the pleasant rhythm of the guard's boots as she walked on along the row.
She only knew one lullaby, but it wasn't as if knowing more would do her any good. Turning toward the wall, Sol began to quietly hum the tune to put to sleep- Her dead daughter? Her dead sister? In truth, mainly herself.
She dreamt badly, of unwanted touches and unhappy blood.
She awoke in the night and choked the stone up into her hand, rolling it over and over again between her fingers to calm herself. The beautiful gem never failed to cast its spell. Good blood replaced bad in dreams - for now.
Author: seta_suzume
Words: 2,002
Theme: Table 2, #2 reaction
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Unpleasant imagery, blood
Disclaimer: FMA doesn't belong to me~ I will put back the toys when I'm done!
Author's comments: So here I am back at this about a year later. ^^; This one is sort of post-Roy/Kimblee, set pre-series, but after Ishval.
"I suppose you don't have any reason to visit me anymore," Sol said. Her smile was smile and tight, filled with conflicting emotions. Prison was making the thin woman gaunt, and her pale skin porcelain. Roy could see the scarring on her arms from where needles had been roughly used to pipe drugs into her. Sol's heavy eyelids drooped lower over her narrow, golden eyes. She looked tired. Her stomach said a lot for her.
"I miscarried," she told him anyway.
But was that a tragedy to Sol, or merely a fact? Roy halted at the notion of it as a relief. If she'd wanted to terminate the pregnancy, he didn't doubt she could have found the means to do it sooner. These sixteen weeks had been her decision. He had been doing his best to prepare. He didn't have much time for a child with his career, but the Madame had agreed to do a big part of raising him or her. Roy found he was simultaneously horrified and warmed by the fantasies his mind cobbled together of his life with his child). Two days earlier some foolish caprice had tickled him into buying his first thing for the baby- a tiny white and blue hat.
Roy bit his lip. To anyone else he would proclaim his utmost sympathy, but was that the right thing to say to Kimblee?
His lips parted, but she preempted his thoughts with her next comment, "It was a girl. I'm sorry. I suppose the world wasn't ready for a child as beautiful and intelligent as ours would've been." She paused, but not long enough for Roy to gather his thoughts. Her eyes looked strange and glossy through her eyelashes. "I suppose I'll never see you again after this, so you might as well go now. Back to your barracks, your office, your beer hall- whatever kind of place you favor these days, Roy Mustang."
Why was it that those words stung? "Sol, I will..." Sure, this hadn't been started by anything like love, but wasn't he the kind of guy who... She would be sad, wouldn't she, never to see him again? "I won't forget about you. I promise I'll come see you again."
"I will be here until they decide to kill me."
Did she have to deliberately make this as difficult as possible? Part of Roy was so sick of all this that he wanted to turn around and walk out of Sol's life right then, forever. But he was a better person than she was. At least that was what he kept telling himself. They were both killers. "I know." He would bear it. "Even if it's difficult. Even if it's embarrassing. As long as I'm able, I'll continue to come every so often."
"If I were in your shoes, I wonder if I would do the same thing."
"I don't care about that." This was the way things were. There was no use in speculating.
They sat quietly for a while, just looking at one another. Eventually Sol seemed to perk up (the sedatives must have nearly run their course). "I don't imagine you would marry me, but then you could file for a conjugal visit and try again." She placed one hand gingerly over her stomach. "I'm not sure it would end any better though."
"Hmm," Roy nodded. It seemed like the best response he could think of.
"I really enjoyed when you were rough with me," Sol admitted, somewhat coy. "I daydream about it sometimes."
"I won't touch you like that ever again," Roy answered.
"Oh. So I guess all I get are the memories then. ...Does that mean you've learned your lesson?"
"That beautiful things can be poisonous? Yeah. I'll be careful what I sink my teeth into for the rest of my life because of you."
"Does Miss Sniper know about us, Roy? If you mean to keep this up, you'll have to tell her sometime," Sol stood up and leaned slightly closed to him.
"She doesn't know. Not yet. But there's more to her than you realize, Kimblee." He didn't feel any hesitation in regard to this. Riza was a major part of his strength. He supposed a lone wolf like Sol couldn't understand that. "Take care of yourself. You don't want to die here before the date they've scheduled for you, right?"
"Do I really look that bad?" Sol stroked a dangling lock of hair away from her face.
"I've never seen you look so poor," Roy admitted. What effect would telling her so have on her? "What happened this morning must be really bothering you."
Sol let her gaze drift away from Roy's eyes. "I'm sick."
And then nothing else. What did she mean by that? Sol had to be harder to understand than any other person he knew. So what should he tell her? "Try and get some rest."
"You're already leaving? It feels like you just got here. I wish we could talk longer."
That desire to chat at least could probably be dubbed sincere. She always loved to talk. "Even if I don't expect anyone will show up and throw me out, there is a time limit to our visit I should observe. ...Don't you trust me to come again?"
"You'll come," Sol answered. She didn't say anything about trust.
"Goodbye, Kimblee."
"Goodbye, Mustang. I'll be waiting for you."
He nodded and walked away, turning back at the last minute for one final look. Sol was gazing directly at him, her neutral, toothless smile punctuated by a furrow between her eyebrows. He turned back to face away from her as fast as he could manage. It wouldn't have been easy, but he'd wanted to see that child born. He'd wanted to hold and feed and play with and teach his undoubtedly beautiful daughter. The only ones he had told were Maes and his aunt. Leaving the women's prison, he went immediately to make a phone call.
"I'm so sorry, Roy-boy." Madame Christmas offered her sympathies, but her investigator's instincts didn't falter for a second. Once she felt enough distance had been placed between Roy and the immediacy of his pain, she raised her delicate question. "I hate to have to say something like this to you, dear, but did anyone tell you what caused the miscarriage?"
The fear he had felt before struck Roy cold. The madame knew better than him- about pregnancy, about women. "Do you really think she...?"
The way his voice cracked, Chris all but winced, but compassion for her nephew wouldn't change either the facts or her tough way of examining them. "Now that it's happened, ultimately, it doesn't change much, but... Well, it's something to think about."
"I'm not going to as her." Roy bit down on his lower lip, pressing down harder and harder, forcing his mind to split its focus with the other, harsher pain.
"Because you think she'll just lie to you? She sounds like a piece of work, but you can always ask the medical staff-"
"No, you might be right, but it's not that." He let up on his lip, though he could still feel the lingering impressions of his teeth. "I already made a promise to Kimblee. That I would keep visiting her once in awhile even though she lost the child. And you didn't raise me to be the kind of man who breaks his words," Roy went on before Chris had a chance to reply. "Sure, it hurts not knowing for certain, but if I found out that she did do something, I'd never be able to stand even looking at her again. I need to leave the easier possibility open for my own sake."
There was a long pause before Madame Christmas said anything, and Roy found himself wondering if his declaration had even made sense. "You wouldn't have let her see that child. You didn't make that promise even though she lost the baby- you did it because she did."
"...You're right." It was no surprise. She knew him pretty well. "But think about So- Kimblee if she didn't do that to herself. No one but me comes to see her. Her own family doesn't contact her. Sooner or later they're going to put her in front of the firing squad. She might be crazy, but everyone knows she could tell right from wrong. Whatever time she would have had with her baby, however short, might have been the last happiness she would have had in her life."
It was hard stuff for Chris to hear as something of a mother to Roy. She'd never met Sol Kimblee, but she didn't trust the woman as far as she could throw her. Her poor Roy-boy deserved better than this, but all she could do was offer him her advice and opinion. "If you feel bad because you gave your word, you could go back and apologize to her- tell her you can't manage it. I don't think it would hurt her much, Roy-boy. You told me yourself there's no love between you. A pragmatic gal like that would understand."
"I- I just can't. I don't have much time to spare for her, but what little I have, I'll share."
"Does that nice Hawkeye girl know about this?"
***
It was uncomfortable to have the wooden stocks pushing into her stomach, so Sol put her hands behind her head as she lay on her bunk. It was nice to see Roy. He might not understand her, but Sol didn't expect understanding. He spoke to her in a kind enough fashion and she could coax a tidbit or two out of him about the outside world. It was good that he could keep coming.
Maybe it was a side effect of the medication, but Solf's stomach wouldn't seem to settle. From the way Roy had looked at her, she could tell she looked at least half as bad as she felt. When she closed her eyes, the twitching of her insides only became more pronounced with less outside stimuli to distract her mind. On the undersides of her eyelids, all she could see was blood, running down insides of her legs. Sol had never found the sight of blood bothersome in other contexts, but something about this made her uncomfortable. The blood was warm and sticky on her cold skin.
She turned onto her side, wishing she could just wrap her arms around herself... "A girl, huh?" That would have been her preference. There were generally more women born in her family. She knew exactly what name she would have (had) chosen. What happened, she wondered idly, to a person when they died? To someone who had never even been born? It brought neither comfort nor despair to her. These were simply thoughts. In her mind's eye, she could see again that morning's blood on her fingers.
"Hey, Kimblee," Officer Levesque peeked in on her as she made her rounds, "I heard what happened to you this morning. You hanging in there?"
"You won't lose me yet, Levesque." Talking was normal, natural. It felt good. "Do you have any children of your own, officer?"
"Not that it's any of your business, Kimblee, but I don't," Ellen answered her. "Carry on."
That was all she'd pry from that one. Sol listened to the pleasant rhythm of the guard's boots as she walked on along the row.
She only knew one lullaby, but it wasn't as if knowing more would do her any good. Turning toward the wall, Sol began to quietly hum the tune to put to sleep- Her dead daughter? Her dead sister? In truth, mainly herself.
She dreamt badly, of unwanted touches and unhappy blood.
She awoke in the night and choked the stone up into her hand, rolling it over and over again between her fingers to calm herself. The beautiful gem never failed to cast its spell. Good blood replaced bad in dreams - for now.