Fullmetal Alchemist, "Lies We Want to Believe," Al/Danny, PG
It's odd, to me, that in my culture, a common greeting goes like this:
"Hi, how are ya?"
"Oh I'm fine, you?"
"Fine, thanks."
Even when neither of you is fine. At what point do people start saying "I'm on the verge of doing something I'm going to regret, later on," or "I feel like shit, want to hear about it?" or so on? And then, how do you go about saying it without getting labeled "emo" or "unstable?"
This fic's about that, kind of. How saying "I'm fine, thanks," is the lie we all, at some point, really want to believe.
Lies We Want to Believe
by Mistr3ss Quickly
The evaluation Danny fills out every other month regarding the young man he's been assigned to guard twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, is five pages long, single-spaced, typed in a tiny, hard-to-read font, and detailed enough that, by the time Danny's finished filling it out, his head hurts and his eyes are watering.
Danny very strongly dislikes filling out the evaluation. But he doesn't say so, keeping his thoughts to himself as he works through it, sitting across from Alphonse in Central Library, Al's attentions focused elsewhere.
The person or group of people who wrote the evaluation want to know if Al-or anyone deemed important enough to warrant a bodyguard out of the Amestris Armed Forces-is worth the time and resources allotted to him. Want to make sure that Al's doing what he needs to be doing and doing it in a way that's most efficient and most likely to yield results that will benefit the Armed Forces at large, eventually. But because the task of bodyguard usually falls to the lower-ranked officers who are generally free to do things like spend the day in the library or disappear for a week to places like Aquaroya, Xenotime, or Lior, the evaluation is strictly specific, leaving no room whatsoever for Danny to write down what he really thinks or feels or observes, living and working and traveling with Alphonse Elric.
On pages one and two, the evaluation wants to know if Al's working hard every day towards his goal, the goal that will eventually serve the organization that supports him.
Danny snorts and marks yes, yes, yes on those questions. It's true enough, he supposes, even though Al's not doing what he does so that the Military can have its prized State Alchemist back. In fact, Danny strongly suspects that, if Alphonse ever manages to find his brother, the Military will be officially short one more State Alchemist, and that they'll have two Elrics to contend with if they decide to press the issue.
On pages three and four, the evaluation wants to know if Al's made any progress, and if so, has he reported his progress to the proper authorities?
Danny rolls his eyes and marks yes, yes, yes on those questions. It's true enough, he supposes, even though Al's not reporting to General Mustang because he has to. In fact, Alphonse Elric rarely does anything simply because someone's ordered him to do it, something Danny admires about him. Al goes to see Roy because Roy loves him and he trusts Roy, and whatever he tells Roy, he knows he can trust Roy to sugar-coat and obscure with fancy words, because Roy doesn't trust the higher-ups any more than he does.
On page five, the evaluation wants to know if Al's okay. If Al's stable, coping well enough with whatever it is that makes him need a bodyguard in the first place.
Danny lies and marks yes, yes, yes on those questions.
Al's most certainly not okay.
He works himself to the point of exhaustion, most days. Has nightmares, if he doesn't. Nightmares that leave him sobbing and disoriented, curled up in a ball at the back corner of the dorm room he and Danny share, screaming if Danny gets too close to him before he's woken fully and remembers where he is.
He forgets to eat, most days, focused too intently on his work to consider the needs of his body. Remembers that it's time to have a meal only when Danny's stomach growls, loudly enough that he notices it, and even then, Danny has to prod him to eat enough for a young man his size, convincing him finally with a sigh and Edward would kill me, if he saw how skinny you've gotten.
He stares off into space, whenever he can't work anymore, staring out the window of the train as he and Danny travel together to another city that will give him nothing but hints of his older brother. Tells Danny that, sometimes, it seems so pointless to be searching for someone who obviously doesn't want to be found. That, sometimes, he wonders if it's his fault Edward's gone, if Edward's hiding from him as punishment.
Danny signs his name at the bottom of page five and stuffs the evaluation into an envelope marked only with his enlistment number and Al's Special Case number, then delivers the thing to the secretary on the first floor of Headquarters while Al's in Roy's office, telling Roy whatever it is he's found in the two weeks since he and Roy last spoke. The secretary smiles up at him and asks how Alphonse is doing, commenting that he's such a sweet boy, and that he always looks so sad.
"Alphonse is doing fine," Danny lies, smiling back. "Thank you for asking."
As always, no one seems to have any trouble believing him.
Danny lives in fear of the day he starts believing it, himself.
"Hi, how are ya?"
"Oh I'm fine, you?"
"Fine, thanks."
Even when neither of you is fine. At what point do people start saying "I'm on the verge of doing something I'm going to regret, later on," or "I feel like shit, want to hear about it?" or so on? And then, how do you go about saying it without getting labeled "emo" or "unstable?"
This fic's about that, kind of. How saying "I'm fine, thanks," is the lie we all, at some point, really want to believe.
Lies We Want to Believe
by Mistr3ss Quickly
The evaluation Danny fills out every other month regarding the young man he's been assigned to guard twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, is five pages long, single-spaced, typed in a tiny, hard-to-read font, and detailed enough that, by the time Danny's finished filling it out, his head hurts and his eyes are watering.
Danny very strongly dislikes filling out the evaluation. But he doesn't say so, keeping his thoughts to himself as he works through it, sitting across from Alphonse in Central Library, Al's attentions focused elsewhere.
The person or group of people who wrote the evaluation want to know if Al-or anyone deemed important enough to warrant a bodyguard out of the Amestris Armed Forces-is worth the time and resources allotted to him. Want to make sure that Al's doing what he needs to be doing and doing it in a way that's most efficient and most likely to yield results that will benefit the Armed Forces at large, eventually. But because the task of bodyguard usually falls to the lower-ranked officers who are generally free to do things like spend the day in the library or disappear for a week to places like Aquaroya, Xenotime, or Lior, the evaluation is strictly specific, leaving no room whatsoever for Danny to write down what he really thinks or feels or observes, living and working and traveling with Alphonse Elric.
On pages one and two, the evaluation wants to know if Al's working hard every day towards his goal, the goal that will eventually serve the organization that supports him.
Danny snorts and marks yes, yes, yes on those questions. It's true enough, he supposes, even though Al's not doing what he does so that the Military can have its prized State Alchemist back. In fact, Danny strongly suspects that, if Alphonse ever manages to find his brother, the Military will be officially short one more State Alchemist, and that they'll have two Elrics to contend with if they decide to press the issue.
On pages three and four, the evaluation wants to know if Al's made any progress, and if so, has he reported his progress to the proper authorities?
Danny rolls his eyes and marks yes, yes, yes on those questions. It's true enough, he supposes, even though Al's not reporting to General Mustang because he has to. In fact, Alphonse Elric rarely does anything simply because someone's ordered him to do it, something Danny admires about him. Al goes to see Roy because Roy loves him and he trusts Roy, and whatever he tells Roy, he knows he can trust Roy to sugar-coat and obscure with fancy words, because Roy doesn't trust the higher-ups any more than he does.
On page five, the evaluation wants to know if Al's okay. If Al's stable, coping well enough with whatever it is that makes him need a bodyguard in the first place.
Danny lies and marks yes, yes, yes on those questions.
Al's most certainly not okay.
He works himself to the point of exhaustion, most days. Has nightmares, if he doesn't. Nightmares that leave him sobbing and disoriented, curled up in a ball at the back corner of the dorm room he and Danny share, screaming if Danny gets too close to him before he's woken fully and remembers where he is.
He forgets to eat, most days, focused too intently on his work to consider the needs of his body. Remembers that it's time to have a meal only when Danny's stomach growls, loudly enough that he notices it, and even then, Danny has to prod him to eat enough for a young man his size, convincing him finally with a sigh and Edward would kill me, if he saw how skinny you've gotten.
He stares off into space, whenever he can't work anymore, staring out the window of the train as he and Danny travel together to another city that will give him nothing but hints of his older brother. Tells Danny that, sometimes, it seems so pointless to be searching for someone who obviously doesn't want to be found. That, sometimes, he wonders if it's his fault Edward's gone, if Edward's hiding from him as punishment.
Danny signs his name at the bottom of page five and stuffs the evaluation into an envelope marked only with his enlistment number and Al's Special Case number, then delivers the thing to the secretary on the first floor of Headquarters while Al's in Roy's office, telling Roy whatever it is he's found in the two weeks since he and Roy last spoke. The secretary smiles up at him and asks how Alphonse is doing, commenting that he's such a sweet boy, and that he always looks so sad.
"Alphonse is doing fine," Danny lies, smiling back. "Thank you for asking."
As always, no one seems to have any trouble believing him.
Danny lives in fear of the day he starts believing it, himself.