Fullmetal Alchemist, "Humana," Belsio/Nash, R
Before anything else is said, I would like to state that I do not like this story. I don't care if it's well or poorly written, I don't care if it's creepy or cheesy, I do not like it.
WARNINGS: Deathfic. Dark, scary deathfic. Not sad so much as creepy.
The bunny said hop so I hopped, and this is what I got. Based off of a request by goldphish_bowl, and no, before anyone worries, this is not going to continue, it's a one-shot and I'm going to forget about it as soon as possible.
The end.
Humana
by Mistr3ss Quickly
The military officer interrogating him looked tired, as though he'd been on duty for too many hours and, really, wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed.
Belsio empathized with the man. He was tired, too.
"Okay, Mr. Belsio," said the officer, sighing. "One more time, from the top. Tell me what happened."
Again. Fourth time, then, and Belsio couldn't help but wonder how many times more he'd have to tell his story before they'd believe him.
He took a deep breath.
~*~*~*~
"Russel? Fletcher? What are you two doing down here?"
He'd not have wondered, had the boys not been acting strangely. It was their home, after all; they were free to be in the cellar if they wanted to be. Only it was long past bedtime and the cellar was cold and dark, and for Fletcher-still too frightened of the dark to sleep without a nightlight-to be down in the basement with his brother ...
The echo as Russel cocked the gun died down into silence before Belsio realized what he'd heard. It was hard to see the boy's face in the low light from the lamp in his hand, most of which was reflecting off of the firearm in the boy's trembling hands.
"Russel?" he said.
From the floor, Fletcher sniffled. "Brother," he said, "don't. Father will want to see him, too."
He couldn't see the terror in Russel's eyes, but he could hear it in the boy's voice.
"Then he'd better not mess with us, had he, Fletch?"
Trying so hard to be tough, just as he'd done in the years Belsio had known him. Trying so hard to be anything but the scared little boy who looked like Nash when he frowned and sounded like Nash when he laughed.
Belsio opened both hands, his left curled only enough to keep his hold on the lamp. "Relax, Russel," he'd said. "Put the gun down. What are you two doing?"
The gun didn't lower. "Bringing back our father," said Russel. "If that Elric kid can do it, so can we."
"It's against the law, Russel," Belsio said, gently.
The gun shook when Russel laughed, a harsh sound that sounded nothing like his usual laugh, and certainly nothing like his father's laugh.
"So's sodomy, but you and my father didn't seem to care much about that," said Russel. "Did you?"
"Brother!" said Fletcher.
Belsio said nothing.
"Good boy," said Russel. "Now. Sit down over there. We'll have Father back in no time."
~*~*~*~
The military officer squinted at Belsio, upper lip curled enough to show his teeth. "So you're telling me that two kids-kids-were the ones to execute the transmutation?"
Belsio tried to nod, but couldn't bring himself to do it. "I am not an Alchemist, sir," he managed, finally.
The officer rolled his eyes. "Fine, then," he said. "So the kids allegedly set off the transmutation ... disappeared ... and then what?"
~*~*~*~
Something was terribly wrong.
The dust settled in the cellar, tinged with the pungent odor of lemon and the reek of ozone, thick around the dying glow of the lamp. Belsio coughed twice and moved forward, hand outstretched.
"Russel?" he said, wary of the gun he'd yet to locate, fearful of the boy who might yet be holding it. "Fletcher? Russel?"
Movement. Not the gasping wheeze of the thing that had appeared in the center of the circle drawn in chalk. Not the shuffle of Russel's boots, of Fletcher's oversized house-shoes.
Just movement. Then touch.
"John."
Belsio turned. Met sad blue eyes with absolute shock, his heart thudding to a stop in his chest.
"Nash," he whispered. "The boys succeeded."
"Boys?" said Nash. "My boys?"
Belsio nodded. Then he remembered.
Nash was holding him by the shoulders, fingers digging like claws into muscles already sore from bringing in the day's crop.
"Where are they? Where are my sons? Russel? Fletcher? Where are they, John? Where are they?"
~*~*~*~
The military officer was shaking his head, just as he'd done each time, before, when Belsio had related that particular part of the story. "Okay, then," he said. "So you're saying that those kids disappeared, and a ... what'd you call it? Human culla-something?"
"Homunculus," said Belsio.
"-showed up and wanted to know where the kids went?" said the officer.
Belsio nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Well, that's all well and good," said the officer, "but where's this homunculus now?"
Belsio looked up, into the darkness creeping into the circle of light where the lamp on the table flickered.
"Right behind you," said Nash, softly.
~*~*~*~
The officer was dead before another word could be uttered. Nash stepped forward, wiping his hands on his trousers.
"Well then," he said. "Enough of that. Let's go, you have Alchemists to find for me. And this time, try not to get yourself arrested so quickly, eh?"
Belsio didn't answer. He stood, mutely, and allowed himself to be herded out of the room, then out of the station, his lover changing form to reflect the officer who lay bleeding in the interrogation room floor.
They stepped out into the cool night air without a word, disappearing into the darkness together.
~*~
Okay, I have a good explanation for it! Honest. Mr. Quickly and I participated in a psychology experiment recently in which we had to watch a woman being interrogated about the death of her daughter, whom she burnt to death over an argument about how the daughter dressed. It was terribly upsetting and has lodged itself into my poor brain, and this is how I'm purging it. Please, please, please don't hate me, I promise I'll write something sweet to make up for it! ~_~ ;;;;
WARNINGS: Deathfic. Dark, scary deathfic. Not sad so much as creepy.
The bunny said hop so I hopped, and this is what I got. Based off of a request by goldphish_bowl, and no, before anyone worries, this is not going to continue, it's a one-shot and I'm going to forget about it as soon as possible.
The end.
Humana
by Mistr3ss Quickly
The military officer interrogating him looked tired, as though he'd been on duty for too many hours and, really, wanted nothing more than to go home and go to bed.
Belsio empathized with the man. He was tired, too.
"Okay, Mr. Belsio," said the officer, sighing. "One more time, from the top. Tell me what happened."
Again. Fourth time, then, and Belsio couldn't help but wonder how many times more he'd have to tell his story before they'd believe him.
He took a deep breath.
~*~*~*~
"Russel? Fletcher? What are you two doing down here?"
He'd not have wondered, had the boys not been acting strangely. It was their home, after all; they were free to be in the cellar if they wanted to be. Only it was long past bedtime and the cellar was cold and dark, and for Fletcher-still too frightened of the dark to sleep without a nightlight-to be down in the basement with his brother ...
The echo as Russel cocked the gun died down into silence before Belsio realized what he'd heard. It was hard to see the boy's face in the low light from the lamp in his hand, most of which was reflecting off of the firearm in the boy's trembling hands.
"Russel?" he said.
From the floor, Fletcher sniffled. "Brother," he said, "don't. Father will want to see him, too."
He couldn't see the terror in Russel's eyes, but he could hear it in the boy's voice.
"Then he'd better not mess with us, had he, Fletch?"
Trying so hard to be tough, just as he'd done in the years Belsio had known him. Trying so hard to be anything but the scared little boy who looked like Nash when he frowned and sounded like Nash when he laughed.
Belsio opened both hands, his left curled only enough to keep his hold on the lamp. "Relax, Russel," he'd said. "Put the gun down. What are you two doing?"
The gun didn't lower. "Bringing back our father," said Russel. "If that Elric kid can do it, so can we."
"It's against the law, Russel," Belsio said, gently.
The gun shook when Russel laughed, a harsh sound that sounded nothing like his usual laugh, and certainly nothing like his father's laugh.
"So's sodomy, but you and my father didn't seem to care much about that," said Russel. "Did you?"
"Brother!" said Fletcher.
Belsio said nothing.
"Good boy," said Russel. "Now. Sit down over there. We'll have Father back in no time."
~*~*~*~
The military officer squinted at Belsio, upper lip curled enough to show his teeth. "So you're telling me that two kids-kids-were the ones to execute the transmutation?"
Belsio tried to nod, but couldn't bring himself to do it. "I am not an Alchemist, sir," he managed, finally.
The officer rolled his eyes. "Fine, then," he said. "So the kids allegedly set off the transmutation ... disappeared ... and then what?"
~*~*~*~
Something was terribly wrong.
The dust settled in the cellar, tinged with the pungent odor of lemon and the reek of ozone, thick around the dying glow of the lamp. Belsio coughed twice and moved forward, hand outstretched.
"Russel?" he said, wary of the gun he'd yet to locate, fearful of the boy who might yet be holding it. "Fletcher? Russel?"
Movement. Not the gasping wheeze of the thing that had appeared in the center of the circle drawn in chalk. Not the shuffle of Russel's boots, of Fletcher's oversized house-shoes.
Just movement. Then touch.
"John."
Belsio turned. Met sad blue eyes with absolute shock, his heart thudding to a stop in his chest.
"Nash," he whispered. "The boys succeeded."
"Boys?" said Nash. "My boys?"
Belsio nodded. Then he remembered.
Nash was holding him by the shoulders, fingers digging like claws into muscles already sore from bringing in the day's crop.
"Where are they? Where are my sons? Russel? Fletcher? Where are they, John? Where are they?"
~*~*~*~
The military officer was shaking his head, just as he'd done each time, before, when Belsio had related that particular part of the story. "Okay, then," he said. "So you're saying that those kids disappeared, and a ... what'd you call it? Human culla-something?"
"Homunculus," said Belsio.
"-showed up and wanted to know where the kids went?" said the officer.
Belsio nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Well, that's all well and good," said the officer, "but where's this homunculus now?"
Belsio looked up, into the darkness creeping into the circle of light where the lamp on the table flickered.
"Right behind you," said Nash, softly.
~*~*~*~
The officer was dead before another word could be uttered. Nash stepped forward, wiping his hands on his trousers.
"Well then," he said. "Enough of that. Let's go, you have Alchemists to find for me. And this time, try not to get yourself arrested so quickly, eh?"
Belsio didn't answer. He stood, mutely, and allowed himself to be herded out of the room, then out of the station, his lover changing form to reflect the officer who lay bleeding in the interrogation room floor.
They stepped out into the cool night air without a word, disappearing into the darkness together.
~*~
Okay, I have a good explanation for it! Honest. Mr. Quickly and I participated in a psychology experiment recently in which we had to watch a woman being interrogated about the death of her daughter, whom she burnt to death over an argument about how the daughter dressed. It was terribly upsetting and has lodged itself into my poor brain, and this is how I'm purging it. Please, please, please don't hate me, I promise I'll write something sweet to make up for it! ~_~ ;;;;