For Psycholullaby: Still Alive
to: psycholullaby
from: Santa
Request: Ed/Ran Fan centric fic
Title: Still Alive
Ran Fan had always been a very strong woman. For as long as I've known her, I've been left stumbling in awe at her strength, her devotion for her country and for Ling. She is a pillar of stone, sturdy, dedicated, intimidating. But, that pillar has been damaged, and part of her has crumbled, only to be replaced by a new material, much stronger. It will, however, take time to get used to this new material. Is she overworking herself to have such an impossible goal? Perhaps, but I have endless amounts of faith that Ran Fan can do it. I once claimed something most people would consider impossible, and now I'm doing it again. So I know that if anyone can do it, it will be her and, Ran Fan will be stronger than she ever was before. She will become a more fearsome opponent.
But as I look over at Ran Fan, laying in the bed, skin as pale as the sheets she's laying on, a chunk of black steel attached to her arm, I realize how vulnerable she can be. Ran Fan looks lost like this, as if the sheets and the pillow are slowly consuming her body, absorbing her into the bed. I can't help but to feel a deep respect for her. I know the pain that she is in, and I know what it can do to you, mind, body and soul. The recovery process will be long, and it will be hard, and though the metal arm looks strange attached to her tiny body, I know she will feel more satisfied with the attachment, rather than completely missing an arm.
I wonder how often Ran Fan thinks about herself, what she needs, her own desires. Is it just her purpose in life to be dedicated to Ling, to protect him, and to serve her country? Or is this what she truly wants? Did she get this arm due to necessity for her job, or because she didn't want to lean on the pity of others? She seems happy enough, I suppose, though I rarely ever see her smile. When she does, I can't help but to think of how pretty she looks. A nice smile definitely suits her, more so than her default emotionless gaze.
The noise that she makes rouses me out of my reverie. I look up, and watch Ran Fan's face as her coal black eyes flutter open and she enters the waking realm. The drugs are probably making her feel like she's still dreaming, making the colours more hazy in some places, more vibrant in others - almost as if everything is surreal. She looks over at me, and her expression is glazed, her eyes glassy. I remember the haze of painkillers all too well, it wasn't pleasant. It's disorienting to feel so detached from your body. Ran Fan blinks several times before her eyes, now partially clear, glare at me, it finally registering in her brain who I am. All I can manage is a sheepish grin. I know I'm in trouble.
“You aren't supposed to be here.”
Her voice is slurred, masking any emotion that may have been put into her words, and her glare is muted. Her glare at me turns to a scowl and she shakes her head in an attempt to ward off the double vision and numbness I know that she feels - a big mistake. She groans, a dizzy spell overcoming her. Ran Fan closes her eyes and wills the feeling to go away.
“Are you alright?”
A stupid question. I know the answer. I asked it to break the silence, to keep the uncomfortable feeling out of the air, but my attempt fails. The feeling is still there.
“I suppose so, considering,” she sighs, lifting her good arm to pinch the bridge of her nose. And that was all that is exchanged between us. I am finding it hard to bring up anything to talk about, and Ran Fan is probably not in the mood to talk. I sigh and stand, intending to leave. I should leave. There really was no reason for me to be here other than my own petty selfishness. I really did want to see how she was doing after the intensely painful automail surgery. Now that I have, it is time for my departure.
“Why are you here?”
I look down at her. Ran Fan's eyes are still closed. I stare at her for a moment, wondering if I remain quiet for long enough if she will just fall back to sleep. A part of me highly doubts this, and after several moments of arguing with myself, I answer anyway.
“I...wanted to see how the surgery went.”
Her eyes slide open slowly and she turns her head to regard me. Her eyes search me, looking for any sign of dishonesty.
“You are risking your friends lives just to check up on me. You never know if you're being followed.”
I sigh and slump my shoulders, hanging my head at her scolding. She's right, of course. I knew what I was doing, and I knew the risks involved, even as I bought my train ticket to Risemburg.
“I know that. I've known that. I've just...never known anyone that has...sacrificed part of their body to protect someone they care about. You did that and now you're getting automail so that you can continue to help that person, even if the situation looks hopeless.”
It is a good feeling to know that I am not alone in this. Logically, I know that I'm probably not the only person out there that has sacrificed a limb to save someone they care about, and has gotten automail to continue on with a normal lifestyle, but I do know that up until now I was the only person placed under seemingly impossible circumstances. Now that I know that I am not alone, it's comforting, and I can't help but want to be close to this other person, and this person is naught but an arms distance away. But, I am being selfish - now is not the time to desperately cling to Ran Fan. She needs to recover, and I am probably not helping.
“I should go.”
I leave her beside and make my way towards the door to the room that they have placed her in. I lay my eyes on the door knob and rest my hand, my automail hand, on the bronzed handle. I cannot feel the cool touch of the metal with this hand. I cannot feel the smoothness of the surface, or any dents and dings that it may have picked up over the years. I can feel pressure with this arm, I can feel pain with this arm, and it's because of this arm that I can protect my little brother, and all of the people that matter to me.
Before my pride in my arm was for the makers, for their craft. Now I'm beginning to feel a new sort of pride in the actual automail, and I can't help but to feel good about this. I smile and turn the knob, when Ran Fan's voice stops me.
“Edward, wait.”
I stop, letting the handle go. It snaps to its default position with a click, and I turn around to face her. She's looking at me, cheeks dusted with pink. A fever, most certainly, is beginning to make itself known in her body, which explains the colour. I tell myself this with certainty, and I believe it.
“Thank you for your concern. I appreciate you coming to visit me. It's...nice to receive visitors.”
I smile a little.
“But, don't risk the safety of your loved ones just to visit me. Concentrate on your goal, I will be fine. If you do that, six months will fly by and you and I will meet once again on the battlefield.”
I give a tiny huff of a laugh, humourless, “I would rather we meet again under more pleasant circumstances, but if it happens to be during a fight, so be it.”
Now it is her turn to smile, and she does, though it is faint. Once again, she closes her eyes, lashes resting softly against her flushed cheek.
“Take care.”
I don't say goodbye as I leave the room, closing the door quietly. I leave her no message of departure, no promise of see you later. Realistically, I know she could die at any moment, and so could I. Still, I cannot help but to avoid telling her goodbye, it seems too firm, too final, too depressing. So, I avoid both of these things by just leaving. If we see each other again, it is a day that I will look forward to. And, when all things are said and done, the final battle is won, and we both manage to escape with our lives, then I would like to exchange personal thoughts and experiences with her, over a steaming cup of Xingian tea.
from: Santa
Request: Ed/Ran Fan centric fic
Title: Still Alive
Ran Fan had always been a very strong woman. For as long as I've known her, I've been left stumbling in awe at her strength, her devotion for her country and for Ling. She is a pillar of stone, sturdy, dedicated, intimidating. But, that pillar has been damaged, and part of her has crumbled, only to be replaced by a new material, much stronger. It will, however, take time to get used to this new material. Is she overworking herself to have such an impossible goal? Perhaps, but I have endless amounts of faith that Ran Fan can do it. I once claimed something most people would consider impossible, and now I'm doing it again. So I know that if anyone can do it, it will be her and, Ran Fan will be stronger than she ever was before. She will become a more fearsome opponent.
But as I look over at Ran Fan, laying in the bed, skin as pale as the sheets she's laying on, a chunk of black steel attached to her arm, I realize how vulnerable she can be. Ran Fan looks lost like this, as if the sheets and the pillow are slowly consuming her body, absorbing her into the bed. I can't help but to feel a deep respect for her. I know the pain that she is in, and I know what it can do to you, mind, body and soul. The recovery process will be long, and it will be hard, and though the metal arm looks strange attached to her tiny body, I know she will feel more satisfied with the attachment, rather than completely missing an arm.
I wonder how often Ran Fan thinks about herself, what she needs, her own desires. Is it just her purpose in life to be dedicated to Ling, to protect him, and to serve her country? Or is this what she truly wants? Did she get this arm due to necessity for her job, or because she didn't want to lean on the pity of others? She seems happy enough, I suppose, though I rarely ever see her smile. When she does, I can't help but to think of how pretty she looks. A nice smile definitely suits her, more so than her default emotionless gaze.
The noise that she makes rouses me out of my reverie. I look up, and watch Ran Fan's face as her coal black eyes flutter open and she enters the waking realm. The drugs are probably making her feel like she's still dreaming, making the colours more hazy in some places, more vibrant in others - almost as if everything is surreal. She looks over at me, and her expression is glazed, her eyes glassy. I remember the haze of painkillers all too well, it wasn't pleasant. It's disorienting to feel so detached from your body. Ran Fan blinks several times before her eyes, now partially clear, glare at me, it finally registering in her brain who I am. All I can manage is a sheepish grin. I know I'm in trouble.
“You aren't supposed to be here.”
Her voice is slurred, masking any emotion that may have been put into her words, and her glare is muted. Her glare at me turns to a scowl and she shakes her head in an attempt to ward off the double vision and numbness I know that she feels - a big mistake. She groans, a dizzy spell overcoming her. Ran Fan closes her eyes and wills the feeling to go away.
“Are you alright?”
A stupid question. I know the answer. I asked it to break the silence, to keep the uncomfortable feeling out of the air, but my attempt fails. The feeling is still there.
“I suppose so, considering,” she sighs, lifting her good arm to pinch the bridge of her nose. And that was all that is exchanged between us. I am finding it hard to bring up anything to talk about, and Ran Fan is probably not in the mood to talk. I sigh and stand, intending to leave. I should leave. There really was no reason for me to be here other than my own petty selfishness. I really did want to see how she was doing after the intensely painful automail surgery. Now that I have, it is time for my departure.
“Why are you here?”
I look down at her. Ran Fan's eyes are still closed. I stare at her for a moment, wondering if I remain quiet for long enough if she will just fall back to sleep. A part of me highly doubts this, and after several moments of arguing with myself, I answer anyway.
“I...wanted to see how the surgery went.”
Her eyes slide open slowly and she turns her head to regard me. Her eyes search me, looking for any sign of dishonesty.
“You are risking your friends lives just to check up on me. You never know if you're being followed.”
I sigh and slump my shoulders, hanging my head at her scolding. She's right, of course. I knew what I was doing, and I knew the risks involved, even as I bought my train ticket to Risemburg.
“I know that. I've known that. I've just...never known anyone that has...sacrificed part of their body to protect someone they care about. You did that and now you're getting automail so that you can continue to help that person, even if the situation looks hopeless.”
It is a good feeling to know that I am not alone in this. Logically, I know that I'm probably not the only person out there that has sacrificed a limb to save someone they care about, and has gotten automail to continue on with a normal lifestyle, but I do know that up until now I was the only person placed under seemingly impossible circumstances. Now that I know that I am not alone, it's comforting, and I can't help but want to be close to this other person, and this person is naught but an arms distance away. But, I am being selfish - now is not the time to desperately cling to Ran Fan. She needs to recover, and I am probably not helping.
“I should go.”
I leave her beside and make my way towards the door to the room that they have placed her in. I lay my eyes on the door knob and rest my hand, my automail hand, on the bronzed handle. I cannot feel the cool touch of the metal with this hand. I cannot feel the smoothness of the surface, or any dents and dings that it may have picked up over the years. I can feel pressure with this arm, I can feel pain with this arm, and it's because of this arm that I can protect my little brother, and all of the people that matter to me.
Before my pride in my arm was for the makers, for their craft. Now I'm beginning to feel a new sort of pride in the actual automail, and I can't help but to feel good about this. I smile and turn the knob, when Ran Fan's voice stops me.
“Edward, wait.”
I stop, letting the handle go. It snaps to its default position with a click, and I turn around to face her. She's looking at me, cheeks dusted with pink. A fever, most certainly, is beginning to make itself known in her body, which explains the colour. I tell myself this with certainty, and I believe it.
“Thank you for your concern. I appreciate you coming to visit me. It's...nice to receive visitors.”
I smile a little.
“But, don't risk the safety of your loved ones just to visit me. Concentrate on your goal, I will be fine. If you do that, six months will fly by and you and I will meet once again on the battlefield.”
I give a tiny huff of a laugh, humourless, “I would rather we meet again under more pleasant circumstances, but if it happens to be during a fight, so be it.”
Now it is her turn to smile, and she does, though it is faint. Once again, she closes her eyes, lashes resting softly against her flushed cheek.
“Take care.”
I don't say goodbye as I leave the room, closing the door quietly. I leave her no message of departure, no promise of see you later. Realistically, I know she could die at any moment, and so could I. Still, I cannot help but to avoid telling her goodbye, it seems too firm, too final, too depressing. So, I avoid both of these things by just leaving. If we see each other again, it is a day that I will look forward to. And, when all things are said and done, the final battle is won, and we both manage to escape with our lives, then I would like to exchange personal thoughts and experiences with her, over a steaming cup of Xingian tea.