After the Fall
Title: After the Fall
Artist/Author: inugrlrayn
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Prompt: Roy tries to apologise for killing her parents. hurt/comfort
Word Count (if necessary): 1757
Summary (if necessary): post series, ignoring CoS. Al and Winry pop up at Roy's office looking for leads on Ed's disappearance.
Disclaimer: I don't own the series, characters, etc.
Notes: To the person who requested this, sorry this didn't turn out more shippy.
The deep and fading light of evening filtered through the window at Roy’s back. Even Hawkeye had gone home, and he spared a longing glance to the parade ground below. Autumn came in brilliant red and orange, just beginning to pull the leaves from their branches. Eager to be free of the office entirely, he turned his attention back to the last report on his desk, making a face at the thick ream of paper within the manila folder.
“General Mustang?”
His heart nearly stopped, and he knew that voice, though he hadn’t heard it in so very long. It was hard to reconcile the bright young eyes and slight figure that peeked around the door at him. Despite the lack of hollowness around the words, the voice belonged to Alphonse.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” He forced a smile, pretending he wasn’t still looking for Ed at his back. A more willowy figure stood behind him though, all lean muscle, her long blonde hair too light to be mistaken for Ed’s. There was guilt in that too, but Roy swallowed it down as he greeted her.
“We were just following up on a lead about my brother. I thought maybe you would know something.” Even before Al had finished, Roy was putting on his jacket, pushing his chair away from the desk. It was a stupid hope, he knew, but irresistible nonetheless, this possibility he might be able to undo somewhat of his failures.
XXX
Hours later left them no nearer an answer. There’d been a walk back to the hotel where Winry and Al were staying, and he’d insisted on buying takeout at least, something to eat while the younger Elric pored over books and reports he ought not really have.
Somewhere along the way, the hotel had been far too stuffy. Roy slid the door aside out onto the little balcony overlooking Central. Stars prickled at the dark sheet of the sky, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, only that his shoulders ached from the way he’d been reading, and the evening air was chilled on his skin.
He heard the door open again behind him, the soft clack of Winry’s shoes on the balcony. There’d been a time once when he’d have brushed off the way his stomach flopped, remembering only what he’d robbed her of. He wouldn’t have said a word, let her think the worst of him. All his reasons were moot now, and he might have kept silent about it still, but their losses were crushing, and he was speaking before he could stop himself.
“I’m afraid I owe you more of an apology than I can possibly hope to offer.” Roy leaned against the balcony, and he didn’t look, didn’t dare look. He couldn’t begin to bear the judgment he knew he would find, that even after all these years, he so justly deserved. Winry only offered him silence, and his mind filled in the gaps, the shadow of an alchemist half metal limbs and all frenetic energy. More than that, there were gunshots and the metal tang of the barrel against the flat of his tongue, and why hadn’t he pulled the trigger?
He heard more than saw Winry swallow, jaw working. There was the faintest click in her throat, and he waited for wrath that never came. Even the bitterness that coated her words was a muted thing, a memory that shifted and faded with each passing year. “I hated you for so long.”
“Quite right, too,” Roy heard himself say, the words hollow and echoing in the empty evening air.
“You took away everyone I loved.” Even in her grief, she’d grown to be so beautiful, the soft edge of her jaw tensing as she spoke.
He wanted to defend himself. Well no, some part of him wanted to defend himself. The greater part knew better because this hurt, but it was true, and it was far less than he deserved. He could only nod in understanding, and all his silken words failed him, leaving him mute.
“It was easy, you know.” Winry wasn’t looking at him, elbows settled on the railing, long hair dripping across her shoulders. In another life, he’d have been dragging them aside without a second thought. Her lean, strong hands gripped the rail, and he imagined for a second she might crush it beneath the gravity of her sorrow. “So much easier than letting go.”
There were so many wiser things he might have said. He imagine himself managing, but the words never came, and his throat was full of glue. He smiled, a meaningless lie, confidence that spread only skin deep. The illusion was shattered the moment he willed himself to speak, dragging a ragged whisper past his lips, “I’m sorry.”
“No.” The word was a plea on Winry’s lips, and he didn’t understand, but it meant something, he was certain. “No, I can’t… You take it back.”
“It’s all I have,” Roy replied, raw and bruised though she hadn’t laid a finger on him. He wondered just then, which of them was wounded more deeply, because it cut right through him and plucked at the nerves, but he couldn’t move.
“I don’t want it,” Winry insisted, the words hissed out between her teeth. Still he didn’t understand, not even when her hands shot out, palms against his shirt like she couldn’t sort out whether she meant to shake some sense into him or push him away.
When he said nothing, because what could he say, she continued. “You can’t be sorry for that without being sorry for everything that came after. You helped Ed and Al. Al had his body back in part because of you. Are you sorry for that, too?”
And oh, it must have hurt her so much to say. There was rain in her eyes, just at the edges, and her fingers caught in the fabric of his shirt. Somewhere between encounters, she’d grown up, and standing there, refusing his apologies, he wondered if she’d always been so brave. He owed her honestly at the very least, and so he replied nudging painfully at her reasoning, “Ed is gone.”
“And you didn’t cause that.” He wondered what it cost her to turn aside the closest thing he could offer to closure, cautiously lifted his arms because she looked in danger of her knees giving way, though her expression remained endlessly determined.
To his surprise, she sagged against him, fingers twisting against clean white cotton. Her face pressed against his chest, more by circumstance than design. She stayed though, like she meant to somehow breathe him in. The words were muffled against his chest when she finally spoke. “So much easier when I didn’t know.
“Didn’t know what?” he found himself asking before he quite thought it though. Her shoulders trembled faintly, and he was sorry for that too, because more than a decade later, he’d still never worked out how to be anything else where she was concerned.
“I used to have… this picture in my head, this faceless murderer who took my parents away,” Winry murmured, the words faltering, even as she drew back. She didn’t look at him, but the city beneath them, though she still leaned against his chest.
There was nothing he could say to that, because even if he’d never wanted to, he had pulled the trigger. It served no one to hide behind his orders or the things he’d done since. Neither offered any relief for the holes left behind.
“When I found out it was you…” And for a moment she did seem angry all over again, tensing in his arms, but her expression was more grief than wrath. “You took Ed and Al away and they were always in harms’ way, and it made so much sense to tack that on to the idea I had of what you were.”
“I can’t apo…” Roy began, but she was cutting him off with a stern look, and he thought maybe he understood how Ed had always seemed just a bit afraid of her ire.
“Just listen to me because I’m not done and I don’t need you interrupting,” she grated out, lips pushed out in an irritated pout terribly at odds with the rest of her.
“I’m listening.” He was, he was, though he hadn’t a clue what he was meant to hear.
Winry sucked in a breath. “I had you all wrong, I think. You… you protected Ed and Al, you believed them when you didn’t have to and… and you’ve been helping Al too. Don’t try and lie to me about it, I know you have.”
“It’s the very least I owe them,” Roy replied, jaw working as he struggled not to interject further.
“I don’t know where they’d have ended up if you hadn’t… I don’t want to think what Ed might’ve done on his own,” Winry muttered, like it could be any worse than the way he’d simply disappeared, not so much as a body left behind in the city beneath Central. She took a breath then, shivery and rueful. “I used to think you didn’t care about anyone but yourself, that you weren’t sorry for any of it.”
Roy closed his eyes because he couldn’t look at her just then. He shook his head, and even if she refused to hear him, the words tumbled off his lips. “I never stopped being sorry.”
“You should forgive yourself. I…” Winry’s breath hiccupped and her hands moved from the front of his shirt, sliding across his flanks to settle at his back. “I would forgive you if I could.”
“You shouldn’t,” Roy insisted, no matter how much he longed for absolution.
“I can’t,” Winry corrected, and he couldn’t see her expression, but he knew her eyes were damp, and her voice caught and shredded as she shuddered against him. “They were my family.”
For all her words, she still touched him with none of the revulsion he expected. They were broken things, the two of them, and he’d have cried if he could, but he only closed his eyes, feeling the patter of her heartbeat through his shirt. He’d ruined the world around her, and no penance would heal that. As they wrapped around each other in the dark and the cold, he went over in his head for the thousandth time, the reports he’d brought Al, in hopes to somehow bring her back some fraction of what she’d lost.
Artist/Author: inugrlrayn
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Prompt: Roy tries to apologise for killing her parents. hurt/comfort
Word Count (if necessary): 1757
Summary (if necessary): post series, ignoring CoS. Al and Winry pop up at Roy's office looking for leads on Ed's disappearance.
Disclaimer: I don't own the series, characters, etc.
Notes: To the person who requested this, sorry this didn't turn out more shippy.
The deep and fading light of evening filtered through the window at Roy’s back. Even Hawkeye had gone home, and he spared a longing glance to the parade ground below. Autumn came in brilliant red and orange, just beginning to pull the leaves from their branches. Eager to be free of the office entirely, he turned his attention back to the last report on his desk, making a face at the thick ream of paper within the manila folder.
“General Mustang?”
His heart nearly stopped, and he knew that voice, though he hadn’t heard it in so very long. It was hard to reconcile the bright young eyes and slight figure that peeked around the door at him. Despite the lack of hollowness around the words, the voice belonged to Alphonse.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” He forced a smile, pretending he wasn’t still looking for Ed at his back. A more willowy figure stood behind him though, all lean muscle, her long blonde hair too light to be mistaken for Ed’s. There was guilt in that too, but Roy swallowed it down as he greeted her.
“We were just following up on a lead about my brother. I thought maybe you would know something.” Even before Al had finished, Roy was putting on his jacket, pushing his chair away from the desk. It was a stupid hope, he knew, but irresistible nonetheless, this possibility he might be able to undo somewhat of his failures.
XXX
Hours later left them no nearer an answer. There’d been a walk back to the hotel where Winry and Al were staying, and he’d insisted on buying takeout at least, something to eat while the younger Elric pored over books and reports he ought not really have.
Somewhere along the way, the hotel had been far too stuffy. Roy slid the door aside out onto the little balcony overlooking Central. Stars prickled at the dark sheet of the sky, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, only that his shoulders ached from the way he’d been reading, and the evening air was chilled on his skin.
He heard the door open again behind him, the soft clack of Winry’s shoes on the balcony. There’d been a time once when he’d have brushed off the way his stomach flopped, remembering only what he’d robbed her of. He wouldn’t have said a word, let her think the worst of him. All his reasons were moot now, and he might have kept silent about it still, but their losses were crushing, and he was speaking before he could stop himself.
“I’m afraid I owe you more of an apology than I can possibly hope to offer.” Roy leaned against the balcony, and he didn’t look, didn’t dare look. He couldn’t begin to bear the judgment he knew he would find, that even after all these years, he so justly deserved. Winry only offered him silence, and his mind filled in the gaps, the shadow of an alchemist half metal limbs and all frenetic energy. More than that, there were gunshots and the metal tang of the barrel against the flat of his tongue, and why hadn’t he pulled the trigger?
He heard more than saw Winry swallow, jaw working. There was the faintest click in her throat, and he waited for wrath that never came. Even the bitterness that coated her words was a muted thing, a memory that shifted and faded with each passing year. “I hated you for so long.”
“Quite right, too,” Roy heard himself say, the words hollow and echoing in the empty evening air.
“You took away everyone I loved.” Even in her grief, she’d grown to be so beautiful, the soft edge of her jaw tensing as she spoke.
He wanted to defend himself. Well no, some part of him wanted to defend himself. The greater part knew better because this hurt, but it was true, and it was far less than he deserved. He could only nod in understanding, and all his silken words failed him, leaving him mute.
“It was easy, you know.” Winry wasn’t looking at him, elbows settled on the railing, long hair dripping across her shoulders. In another life, he’d have been dragging them aside without a second thought. Her lean, strong hands gripped the rail, and he imagined for a second she might crush it beneath the gravity of her sorrow. “So much easier than letting go.”
There were so many wiser things he might have said. He imagine himself managing, but the words never came, and his throat was full of glue. He smiled, a meaningless lie, confidence that spread only skin deep. The illusion was shattered the moment he willed himself to speak, dragging a ragged whisper past his lips, “I’m sorry.”
“No.” The word was a plea on Winry’s lips, and he didn’t understand, but it meant something, he was certain. “No, I can’t… You take it back.”
“It’s all I have,” Roy replied, raw and bruised though she hadn’t laid a finger on him. He wondered just then, which of them was wounded more deeply, because it cut right through him and plucked at the nerves, but he couldn’t move.
“I don’t want it,” Winry insisted, the words hissed out between her teeth. Still he didn’t understand, not even when her hands shot out, palms against his shirt like she couldn’t sort out whether she meant to shake some sense into him or push him away.
When he said nothing, because what could he say, she continued. “You can’t be sorry for that without being sorry for everything that came after. You helped Ed and Al. Al had his body back in part because of you. Are you sorry for that, too?”
And oh, it must have hurt her so much to say. There was rain in her eyes, just at the edges, and her fingers caught in the fabric of his shirt. Somewhere between encounters, she’d grown up, and standing there, refusing his apologies, he wondered if she’d always been so brave. He owed her honestly at the very least, and so he replied nudging painfully at her reasoning, “Ed is gone.”
“And you didn’t cause that.” He wondered what it cost her to turn aside the closest thing he could offer to closure, cautiously lifted his arms because she looked in danger of her knees giving way, though her expression remained endlessly determined.
To his surprise, she sagged against him, fingers twisting against clean white cotton. Her face pressed against his chest, more by circumstance than design. She stayed though, like she meant to somehow breathe him in. The words were muffled against his chest when she finally spoke. “So much easier when I didn’t know.
“Didn’t know what?” he found himself asking before he quite thought it though. Her shoulders trembled faintly, and he was sorry for that too, because more than a decade later, he’d still never worked out how to be anything else where she was concerned.
“I used to have… this picture in my head, this faceless murderer who took my parents away,” Winry murmured, the words faltering, even as she drew back. She didn’t look at him, but the city beneath them, though she still leaned against his chest.
There was nothing he could say to that, because even if he’d never wanted to, he had pulled the trigger. It served no one to hide behind his orders or the things he’d done since. Neither offered any relief for the holes left behind.
“When I found out it was you…” And for a moment she did seem angry all over again, tensing in his arms, but her expression was more grief than wrath. “You took Ed and Al away and they were always in harms’ way, and it made so much sense to tack that on to the idea I had of what you were.”
“I can’t apo…” Roy began, but she was cutting him off with a stern look, and he thought maybe he understood how Ed had always seemed just a bit afraid of her ire.
“Just listen to me because I’m not done and I don’t need you interrupting,” she grated out, lips pushed out in an irritated pout terribly at odds with the rest of her.
“I’m listening.” He was, he was, though he hadn’t a clue what he was meant to hear.
Winry sucked in a breath. “I had you all wrong, I think. You… you protected Ed and Al, you believed them when you didn’t have to and… and you’ve been helping Al too. Don’t try and lie to me about it, I know you have.”
“It’s the very least I owe them,” Roy replied, jaw working as he struggled not to interject further.
“I don’t know where they’d have ended up if you hadn’t… I don’t want to think what Ed might’ve done on his own,” Winry muttered, like it could be any worse than the way he’d simply disappeared, not so much as a body left behind in the city beneath Central. She took a breath then, shivery and rueful. “I used to think you didn’t care about anyone but yourself, that you weren’t sorry for any of it.”
Roy closed his eyes because he couldn’t look at her just then. He shook his head, and even if she refused to hear him, the words tumbled off his lips. “I never stopped being sorry.”
“You should forgive yourself. I…” Winry’s breath hiccupped and her hands moved from the front of his shirt, sliding across his flanks to settle at his back. “I would forgive you if I could.”
“You shouldn’t,” Roy insisted, no matter how much he longed for absolution.
“I can’t,” Winry corrected, and he couldn’t see her expression, but he knew her eyes were damp, and her voice caught and shredded as she shuddered against him. “They were my family.”
For all her words, she still touched him with none of the revulsion he expected. They were broken things, the two of them, and he’d have cried if he could, but he only closed his eyes, feeling the patter of her heartbeat through his shirt. He’d ruined the world around her, and no penance would heal that. As they wrapped around each other in the dark and the cold, he went over in his head for the thousandth time, the reports he’d brought Al, in hopes to somehow bring her back some fraction of what she’d lost.