Humanity Within, Chapter Two
Title: Humanity Within, Chapter Two
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: Still PG. xD
Characters: Scar, Fuhrer Bradley, General Hakuro, Roy, Riza, Hughes
Dedication: Flags, Ruingaraf, Taisa (let's make this an umbrella dedication for the rest of the fic, eh?)
A/N: So, here it is, the second chapter of the crappiness. XD I must say I'm personally far happier with this chapter than the first. I dunno why. xD There's still quite a few chapters till I actually get to the part I wanna write about, though. =/ Anyway, enjoy! I felt really bad for both Scar and Roy while writing this...my muse was rather angsty when it came up with the chapter idea last night. xD;; But...yeah. It has Roy and Hughes friendship cutes too?
Scar awakened slowly, muscles stiff from laying on the cold tiled floor of the cell. For a brief moment, the Ishbalan was disoriented, but it only took a few seconds for him to process the situation. That was right…he’d been captured. This was the morning that he would either agree to help the military…or be executed.
His feelings on the subject had not changed, but as the time when his final decision would be asked of him drew nearer, the harder it was for him to commit to remaining defiant to literally his last breath. He hated the idea…hated himself for being afraid…
Knowing he was a murderer was bad enough without being a coward. A traitor.
Turbulent thoughts such as those raced through his mind gloomily until he was distracted by the sound of a door opening and footsteps against the tiled floor. He managed to pull himself out of his reverie in time to give a duly spiteful glare to the guard that had come to fetch him.
His arms had already been tied behind his back, the bounds just above his wrists, rendering the otherwise fearsome Ishbalan essentially harmless. It seemed that the guard was still afraid, however, as his gun was drawn while he led Scar out of the cell and into a small, dimly lit room. Fuhrer Bradley and General Hakuro were there, waiting for his answer, and in the background, he could just barely make out the silhouettes of a number of armed men. A firing squad…they weren’t even going to wait if he said no, were they?
He hesitated.
“Well? We’re waiting. What is your answer?”
Scar gritted his teeth. Even now, it tore at him to agree, to help those who had made his life worse than any hell he could imagine…he assumed that was the point. This was much less about assistance than humiliation. An execution would have at least been an honorable end…but they knew, somehow. They knew he would cling to his worthless life and were now putting him through this torture.
“If you don’t respond in thirty seconds, we’re taking your answer as a no.”
His heart thumped harshly in his chest as he struggled to find his voice. “I-I…I’ll…I’ll do it…” he finally answered, voice trembling as he stared at the ground, tan cheeks feeling warm from shame and self-disgust at the moment.
“You’ve made a wise decision, Scar,” the Fuhrer responded. He could’ve sworn if he’d looked up, he’d have seen the man smiling, the bastard. Bradley then turned to his general. “General Hakuro, you’ll take Scar to his assignment, yes?”
“Yes, sir!”
A salute, and he was being led back out of the room. Scar didn’t trust himself to look up the entire time-if he was going to shamelessly cling to his life, then he would do best not to anger the general and get the offer revoked.
“Well, colonel, it looks like you’re in luck. You’ll have a guide for the desert after all.”
Colonel…Scar was sure he knew when he heard the rank, but he forced himself to look up, just needing to be sure.
“Him?!” He couldn’t help himself. “I…you’re forcing me to help him?!”
“No one’s forcing you to do anything. You made the decision to help us.” The other man was infuriatingly calm, his tone utterly patronizing. Scar, however, was not in the state of mind to point out that his alternative was death, so it wasn’t exactly as if he really had much of a choice.
His arms were struggling against their bonds, and he was just barely containing himself from charging at the colonel, bound arms or not. The Ishbalan was, literally, shaking with rage. Wasn’t humiliation enough for the military? Did they have to demoralize him as well, pairing him with not only a state alchemist, but one that had directly participated in Ishbal?
“The firing squad hired for your execution hasn’t left quite yet. I would suggest you behave yourself, Ishbalan.”
He froze, and slowly, he fell silent and his muscles went lax, eyes returning to the spot on the ground they had been staring at before. All signs of rage dissolved quickly, replaced with what could only be accurately described as despair. It was almost pitiful, seeing the fearsome state alchemist killer reduced to this…
“I’ll leave him in your hands then, Mustang. Best of luck in your mission.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Another salute, and then the door shut behind General Hakuro. A heavy silence reigned for a few moments, and then, “Scar…”
“...Congratulations.”
Mustang’s eyes narrowed a fraction, not quite catching the Ishbalan’s meaning in the cryptic comment. “What’s that?”
“I said congratulations. This time you’ll be getting an award for slaughtering your own people.”
Steely eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and the colonel stiffened. There was practically no change in Mustang’s facial expression, yet when he spoke after another long silence, it was clear that Scar’s words had shaken him.
“Lieutenant…did you have any more paperwork for me or was that all for the afternoon?”
Hawkeye seemed slightly taken aback, but she shook her head. “No, nothing at the moment, sir.”
He nodded, and turned to the lone soldier that had come in the room with Hakuro. “You can take him back to his cell. I won’t be needing him until tomorrow morning.”
“Uh, y-yes sir.”
Mustang made for the exit at that point, but was interrupted by Hawkeye. “Colonel…”
“I’ll be back in a little while, Lieutenant.” His tone was grim, but firm, and Hawkeye had learned from years by his side that it was pointless to argue, and especially now in front of Scar.
Once outside the headquarters, the colonel wandered for a while until finally settling down on a bench near the front steps. He wasn’t quite sure how long he sat there, staring off blankly into the horizon, but he was pulled out of his nearly-trance-like state by a cheerful voice he knew all too well.
“Heyy, Roy! Long time no see, eh? We’ve both been so busy, I think it’s been almost a week since we’ve talked at all!”
The good-natured jostling, that goofy grin he always wore…Roy wasn’t entirely sure he could handle it, at the moment. The last thing he needed was to break down in front of Hughes…
“You know you can always call, Hughes...” he answered, trying anyway for the sake of his best friend. It really had been a little while since they’d had the chance to converse, after all.
“Okay, spill it, what’s wrong?”
Damn it. Maes knew him far too well. He decided to attempt feigning ignorance, though it was likely the truth would come out soon, if Hughes had anything to say about it.
“What are you talking about? Nothing’s wrong, I’m just-”
“C’mon, Roy, don’t try to pull that with me. You never call me just Hughes unless you’re angry or upset about something.”
Goddamn it.
“Oh…I did? I-I didn’t realize, I’m sorry, Hu-Maes.”
The serious approach wasn’t working, and it seemed that this was where his best friend decided to switch tactics-or maybe that was just the response that came naturally to him, Roy wasn’t exactly in the frame of mind to be sure which.
“I know what’ll cheer you up, Roy! Pictures of my beautiful daughter, Elysia!”
Normally, Roy was content to indulge Maes and his near-obsession with showing off his daughter, but right now…
“P-Please…Maes. Not-not today…” he began, a note of desperation in his voice that was shocking even to him. “I fear that all I’ll be able to think of is the daughters whose mothers and fathers I’ve murdered.”
Maes’s expression became serious for a moment, and then the smile returned, this time a softer and more fatherly expression rather than one of overt cheeriness.
“All right, no Elysia pictures,” he conceded, “How about a good old-fashioned hug, then?”
Before Roy could protest, two arms were around him, and he resisted for only a moment before returning the gesture, soon clinging to the elder man like a small child might-a second Elysia for a scant few moments of weakness.
He offered his friend a watery smile when he had regained himself enough to pull away, but Maes caught his arm before he could turn around to go.
“Hey, how about drowning some of those sorrows with me at a bar? It’s been a while since we’ve just sat and talked.”
Roy seemed hesitant. “I…I promised Hawkeye I’d be back in a short while…”
“I’ll just go tell her I’m borrowing you for a bit, then! Come onnnn, it’ll be my treat. Whaddya say, Roy?”
He finally gave in and agreed, but while he waited for his friend to tell Hawkeye where they were going, he couldn’t help but think that no amount of alcohol would get him away from the fact that he knew Scar was right.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: Still PG. xD
Characters: Scar, Fuhrer Bradley, General Hakuro, Roy, Riza, Hughes
Dedication: Flags, Ruingaraf, Taisa (let's make this an umbrella dedication for the rest of the fic, eh?)
A/N: So, here it is, the second chapter of the crappiness. XD I must say I'm personally far happier with this chapter than the first. I dunno why. xD There's still quite a few chapters till I actually get to the part I wanna write about, though. =/ Anyway, enjoy! I felt really bad for both Scar and Roy while writing this...my muse was rather angsty when it came up with the chapter idea last night. xD;; But...yeah. It has Roy and Hughes friendship cutes too?
Scar awakened slowly, muscles stiff from laying on the cold tiled floor of the cell. For a brief moment, the Ishbalan was disoriented, but it only took a few seconds for him to process the situation. That was right…he’d been captured. This was the morning that he would either agree to help the military…or be executed.
His feelings on the subject had not changed, but as the time when his final decision would be asked of him drew nearer, the harder it was for him to commit to remaining defiant to literally his last breath. He hated the idea…hated himself for being afraid…
Knowing he was a murderer was bad enough without being a coward. A traitor.
Turbulent thoughts such as those raced through his mind gloomily until he was distracted by the sound of a door opening and footsteps against the tiled floor. He managed to pull himself out of his reverie in time to give a duly spiteful glare to the guard that had come to fetch him.
His arms had already been tied behind his back, the bounds just above his wrists, rendering the otherwise fearsome Ishbalan essentially harmless. It seemed that the guard was still afraid, however, as his gun was drawn while he led Scar out of the cell and into a small, dimly lit room. Fuhrer Bradley and General Hakuro were there, waiting for his answer, and in the background, he could just barely make out the silhouettes of a number of armed men. A firing squad…they weren’t even going to wait if he said no, were they?
He hesitated.
“Well? We’re waiting. What is your answer?”
Scar gritted his teeth. Even now, it tore at him to agree, to help those who had made his life worse than any hell he could imagine…he assumed that was the point. This was much less about assistance than humiliation. An execution would have at least been an honorable end…but they knew, somehow. They knew he would cling to his worthless life and were now putting him through this torture.
“If you don’t respond in thirty seconds, we’re taking your answer as a no.”
His heart thumped harshly in his chest as he struggled to find his voice. “I-I…I’ll…I’ll do it…” he finally answered, voice trembling as he stared at the ground, tan cheeks feeling warm from shame and self-disgust at the moment.
“You’ve made a wise decision, Scar,” the Fuhrer responded. He could’ve sworn if he’d looked up, he’d have seen the man smiling, the bastard. Bradley then turned to his general. “General Hakuro, you’ll take Scar to his assignment, yes?”
“Yes, sir!”
A salute, and he was being led back out of the room. Scar didn’t trust himself to look up the entire time-if he was going to shamelessly cling to his life, then he would do best not to anger the general and get the offer revoked.
“Well, colonel, it looks like you’re in luck. You’ll have a guide for the desert after all.”
Colonel…Scar was sure he knew when he heard the rank, but he forced himself to look up, just needing to be sure.
“Him?!” He couldn’t help himself. “I…you’re forcing me to help him?!”
“No one’s forcing you to do anything. You made the decision to help us.” The other man was infuriatingly calm, his tone utterly patronizing. Scar, however, was not in the state of mind to point out that his alternative was death, so it wasn’t exactly as if he really had much of a choice.
His arms were struggling against their bonds, and he was just barely containing himself from charging at the colonel, bound arms or not. The Ishbalan was, literally, shaking with rage. Wasn’t humiliation enough for the military? Did they have to demoralize him as well, pairing him with not only a state alchemist, but one that had directly participated in Ishbal?
“The firing squad hired for your execution hasn’t left quite yet. I would suggest you behave yourself, Ishbalan.”
He froze, and slowly, he fell silent and his muscles went lax, eyes returning to the spot on the ground they had been staring at before. All signs of rage dissolved quickly, replaced with what could only be accurately described as despair. It was almost pitiful, seeing the fearsome state alchemist killer reduced to this…
“I’ll leave him in your hands then, Mustang. Best of luck in your mission.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Another salute, and then the door shut behind General Hakuro. A heavy silence reigned for a few moments, and then, “Scar…”
“...Congratulations.”
Mustang’s eyes narrowed a fraction, not quite catching the Ishbalan’s meaning in the cryptic comment. “What’s that?”
“I said congratulations. This time you’ll be getting an award for slaughtering your own people.”
Steely eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and the colonel stiffened. There was practically no change in Mustang’s facial expression, yet when he spoke after another long silence, it was clear that Scar’s words had shaken him.
“Lieutenant…did you have any more paperwork for me or was that all for the afternoon?”
Hawkeye seemed slightly taken aback, but she shook her head. “No, nothing at the moment, sir.”
He nodded, and turned to the lone soldier that had come in the room with Hakuro. “You can take him back to his cell. I won’t be needing him until tomorrow morning.”
“Uh, y-yes sir.”
Mustang made for the exit at that point, but was interrupted by Hawkeye. “Colonel…”
“I’ll be back in a little while, Lieutenant.” His tone was grim, but firm, and Hawkeye had learned from years by his side that it was pointless to argue, and especially now in front of Scar.
Once outside the headquarters, the colonel wandered for a while until finally settling down on a bench near the front steps. He wasn’t quite sure how long he sat there, staring off blankly into the horizon, but he was pulled out of his nearly-trance-like state by a cheerful voice he knew all too well.
“Heyy, Roy! Long time no see, eh? We’ve both been so busy, I think it’s been almost a week since we’ve talked at all!”
The good-natured jostling, that goofy grin he always wore…Roy wasn’t entirely sure he could handle it, at the moment. The last thing he needed was to break down in front of Hughes…
“You know you can always call, Hughes...” he answered, trying anyway for the sake of his best friend. It really had been a little while since they’d had the chance to converse, after all.
“Okay, spill it, what’s wrong?”
Damn it. Maes knew him far too well. He decided to attempt feigning ignorance, though it was likely the truth would come out soon, if Hughes had anything to say about it.
“What are you talking about? Nothing’s wrong, I’m just-”
“C’mon, Roy, don’t try to pull that with me. You never call me just Hughes unless you’re angry or upset about something.”
Goddamn it.
“Oh…I did? I-I didn’t realize, I’m sorry, Hu-Maes.”
The serious approach wasn’t working, and it seemed that this was where his best friend decided to switch tactics-or maybe that was just the response that came naturally to him, Roy wasn’t exactly in the frame of mind to be sure which.
“I know what’ll cheer you up, Roy! Pictures of my beautiful daughter, Elysia!”
Normally, Roy was content to indulge Maes and his near-obsession with showing off his daughter, but right now…
“P-Please…Maes. Not-not today…” he began, a note of desperation in his voice that was shocking even to him. “I fear that all I’ll be able to think of is the daughters whose mothers and fathers I’ve murdered.”
Maes’s expression became serious for a moment, and then the smile returned, this time a softer and more fatherly expression rather than one of overt cheeriness.
“All right, no Elysia pictures,” he conceded, “How about a good old-fashioned hug, then?”
Before Roy could protest, two arms were around him, and he resisted for only a moment before returning the gesture, soon clinging to the elder man like a small child might-a second Elysia for a scant few moments of weakness.
He offered his friend a watery smile when he had regained himself enough to pull away, but Maes caught his arm before he could turn around to go.
“Hey, how about drowning some of those sorrows with me at a bar? It’s been a while since we’ve just sat and talked.”
Roy seemed hesitant. “I…I promised Hawkeye I’d be back in a short while…”
“I’ll just go tell her I’m borrowing you for a bit, then! Come onnnn, it’ll be my treat. Whaddya say, Roy?”
He finally gave in and agreed, but while he waited for his friend to tell Hawkeye where they were going, he couldn’t help but think that no amount of alcohol would get him away from the fact that he knew Scar was right.