The Unpublished Memoirs of Roy Mustang Ch. 1
Title: The Unpublished Memoirs of Roy Mustang
Rating: R eventually
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairings: Canon pairings, yes *those* ones, along with Roy/Ed later. This means both het and yaoi with the main characters. You have been warned.
Spoilers: The whole manga/Brotherhood.
Edward Elric keeping bedside vigil
Brother Alphonse remains in serious condition
CENTRAL - Anonymous reports from Amestris General Hospital claim that Alphonse Elric remains in the Intensive Care Unit, suffering from severe malnutrition.
This has confused many, given the knowledge that the younger Elric has been seen at his brother's side wearing a cumbersome suit of armor.
The source, who has spoken to the Central Herald only under the guarantee of anonymity, said that the elder brother, known to many as the Fullmetal Alchemist, has not left his sibling's side since they were rescued by some of Colonel Mustang's men, but that he has given no explanation for his brother's current condition.
At this time, there is no word on any potential legal action that may be taken against Edward Elric or Pinako Rockbell, who were responsible for Alphonse Elric's well-being.
We were all in the same hospital -- Riza, Alphonse and myself. Ed technically was as well, but despite his own war wounds and the medical staff that continued to keep an eye on them, he never once considered himself as or behaved as a patient. I think that if Death approached Ed and told him that it was time for him to die, Ed would argue until even Death was doubting his own records. That stubborn streak, not to be confused with my own, was both my greatest frustration as the teen's superior officer and one of the things I respected most about him. It wasn't perhaps the top, maybe not even top five on the list, but it was there, nonetheless.
My stubborn streak, however, had me walking the halls of the hospital, learning to adapt well enough to my new handicap well enough that, I hoped, I could avoid being tossed out of the military. Riza called it "bull-headed" and "stupid," but she didn't try to stop me. The shock of being permanently blind, even the admittance of it, had yet to hit me, and I knew one and then the other would come eventually, probably in the wake of a major breakdown, but I didn't have time for that now. Though my stubbornness could easily match Ed's worst, I possessed something that the teen did not: self control. And my self control was dictating that I would have that breakdown when it suited me, and that wasn't while I was still recovering from the fight with the homunculi.
For now, I had people in worse shape than me to worry about and a country to help rebuild.
I knew, though, I was still a long way from being much good to anyone; it was all I could do to make my way through the hospital hallways, counting each doorway I encountered until I reached the one I knew was the Elric's. There was a rail that ran the length of each wall, save for the doorways, and I used it to guide myself. It was always ... regrettable when I found it inexplicably wet or sticky. My hands had smaller bandages on them, so my fingers got the brunt of whatever the mystery substance was on the rail. Still, I considered it a better option to the roughly textured wallpaper. It was as abrasive as sandpaper on my fingertips, and after dealing with sore digits after days of relying on the walls, I swore I'd stick to the mystery substances and the railing.
Twelve doors down the hall from the nurses' desk, on the opposite side of the hall from my own room, I knew was where the Elrics were staying. The door to their room was closed, as it usually was to avoid nosy hospital staff members.
"No visitors. Ve ahre resting," a voice called out from within the room in a Drachman accent, a very poorly executed one.
"Don't try to screw with me, Ed," I replied through the wooden door as I reached for the handle. I had found it was easier to grab at and find handles on doors than it was when they had a knob. This concerned me for my return home; most of the doors at my apartmenthad knobs, and not all were at a normal height, a fact I still question. I still wonder who built the place, as half of the door handles were located closer to my knees than my waist. "Your phoney accent fooled me once. It won't again."
I could hear him laughing on the other side as I push down the handle and open the door. "You should have seen your face. Well, I guess you couldn't now that you can't really see a damned thing anymore, but the last time, when you thought you'd gotten the wrong room. That was hysterical!" He was genuinely laughing, not the forced noise that came out of him when Breda or Pinako visited, so even if this was entirely at my expense, I couldn't say I minded all that much.
"Sure, Fullmetal, make fun of the blind man." I made my way over to the chair I already know he was moving toward me. Almost as easily as Riza, Ed had gotten into a routine of how to keep items that would trip me out of my way and moving chairs or items I needed closer to my grasp.
"As though you're any better," he said as I took a seat and slowly rolled the chair a little closer to where he seems to be sitting. "I know you're the one who stuck Nina's alphabet letters to my automail."
I tried to look appalled at the idea. Even with the dark glasses over my eyes, I didn't think I could pull it off. "How could I possibly do that? I can't even see."
"You still know how a magnet works, asshole, and the last time I checked, that didn't require staring at it." Most of my team were shocked at how Ed talked to me, with all of them still tiptoeing around the fact that, no, I couldn't see. And as long as I didn't accept it as permanent, I didn't care that I couldn't at the moment. I had never avoided the topic of Ed's automail before, and even as Al was still in bed, drifting in and out of unconsciousness, it didn't stop me from messing with him however I could. "So," he said, "are you still sporting baby blues?"
I tipped down the glasses and looked in what I assumed was Ed's general direction, at least, I did after rolling my eyes at the question. "I wouldn't know."
"Still blue. Maybe a little darker, but definitely still blue."
Like someone who had suddenly acquired a very severe case of cataracts, both of my eyes had become washed out, lightened by a white film that no doctor seemed to know how to begin removing. Ed seemed most surprised of anyone that my eyes had not gone gray but rather a pale, pale blue. Everyone assumed my eyes were brown or even black, but I could have told them -- and I think Riza could have as well, even at that point when we still considered one another only friends -- that they'd been a dark, almost-navy blue.
"How is Al doing?" I asked, pushing the glasses back up the bridge of my nose.
"He's been waking up off and on," Ed said. "And the doctors think his body is doing better than it should be. I told him he needed to pull through. He kept apologizing to me. Like it was his fault he's like this." I could almost hear the dark cloud that was now hovering over him, as it always did, when he reflected on their attempt to resurrect their mother.
"It's a lot of people's fault, his included."
"Don't say that," Ed snapped back, a dangerous edge cutting through his voice. I had heard it before, and usually, I backed off, but intuition was telling me that pushing the issue now was probably better than doing it later. Later, Al might be awake and have to hear this conversation, but I knew when he was unconscious like this, there was no chance he could hear a word that was being said. And later, Ed would need to be strong to help Al as his body slowly grew stronger. We needed to have this conversation now.
"You might have come up with the idea, but Al helped you." I raised a hand to cut off any argument from Ed that I knew was coming. The fact that the simple move was all it took seemed proof enough to me that a part of him wanted to hear what I was going to say, needed to hear it. "And he was only one year younger than you. It wasn't as though you led your younger brother of five or six into helping you with this transmutation. He was as aware of you that it was considered forbidden, and he knew as much as you did about what you were doing." I heard him tell me to shut up, sounding half-hearted, but I continued. "If we're on the subject of dishing out the blame, you know, when you were both heading for Risembool on the train, Mrs. Curtis didn't call the Rockbells to tell them you were on your way home. And really, Pinako should have called at some point to see how ou were and if you were going to be coming home anytime soon. There is also the fact that your father shouldn't have left all that information behind. It was far too dangerous for anyone to have found, not just you and Al."
Perhaps, if I could have seen him, I might have seen the warning signs of Ed's anger being ready to go off and realized that my interpretation of it being half-hearted was very wrong, but I had no visual clues. That didn't mean I didn't have a fairly good guess that that his fury was building was happening as I recited my laundry list of people who should have done better by the Elric boys prior to that night that changed everything for them.
"How can you say that?" Ed asked in a voice so low that I could practically feel the danger that lurked inside it. "Al listened to me because he was my little brother. And in case you've forgotten, he saved your sorry ass in battle. You'd have been stumbling around blindly while the rest of us fought to save everyone's asses. Izumi is still helping you, you sorry bastard, talking at those idiotic press conferences whenever you're 'too tired.'" I could hear his voice rising and heard the squeaking of the wheels on his chair sliding haphazardly across the tiled floor. I assumed he was standing.
"It is all true, what we've both said. One doesn't change the other."
Ed was close, I could feel his breath on my cheek and his hands at either armrest of my chair were bumping into my arms. I don't know what he thought to achieve in doing this, but if I didn't care before, when I could see his anger firing off, there wasn't a chance I was going to do it now. "Don't say that!" his hissed warning came with some unpleasant spittle that hit my right cheek, probably my glasses too. I raised my hand to wipe his saliva off of my face with a faint look of disgust, but did my best to give no sign I would back down. "My father fucking died for all of us and Al was nearly dead."
"While that may redeem themselves of that action, it doesn't erase that it happened or that blame still rests with them." I withheld a wince as I felt Ed's legs pressing against my own -- his automail was surprisingly painful thanks to a random bolt the digging into my shin.
"It does. It has to, or what good does any of it mean?"
"It means that you all contributed to a mistake, and in some way, you have all paid and made up for it." I put my hand on his arm. "Most people have no problems spreading the blame, but you're the exact opposite. I think if you could, you'd heap all of it on yourself."
"But it isn't fair. It just ... My father isn't even here to defend himself.
Twice now in one sitting I'd heard him refer to Hohenheim as his father. It seemed in that last act of heroism that cost him his life, he had earned what he hadn't been able to while he was still alive: Ed's respect. I supposed that it had always been there, but admitting it aloud as he'd just done would have meant Ed getting past all of the hurt that is father had caused, intentional or not.
"No. He's not here to defend himself, or to apologize, or to even talk to you about how angry you have been with him all these years. You can't force the closure you didn't get with him for leaving by ignoring that he did it and that it was wrong in a lot of ways."
Ed didn't respond right away, so I waited. The bolt was still pushing into my leg, he was still breathing in my face, but we both waited until he finally spoke, his voice cracking just a little. "Are you trying to make me cry or something? Because I'm not likely to do it over him."
I gave Ed's arm a squeeze, sympathetic for the hitch I'd heard in his voice, but I wouldn't dare say anything all. To call attention to it would only cause additional embarrassment to the teen. "I wouldn't expect it," I said instead, "but I wouldn't think less of you if you did."
Ed moved his arm away from my grip and stepped back, thankfully relieving me of the presence of that blasted bolt. "Besides, some people might be willing to cry like a baby," he said in a way that told me that snide little comment, childish at that, was directed at me, "but not all of us are."
I nodded and took an audible sniff of the air, opting for immaturity to match his. "Tell me something, Fullmetal." I got a grunt from him in reply. "When was the last time you took a shower? You stink."
"What the hell are you playing at, Mustang?" Though I'd heard this phrase many times in our professional lives together, I don't think I'd heard it with such genuine confusion. "First, you play feature reporter and try to get me to cry over my father in some idiotic, teary confession of ... I don't know, love for the bastard or something, and now you're telling me I smell? Bastard."
Indeed," I said as I stood from the chair, "I think it would be doing everyone a favor if you showered. Not to mention that the sound of water provides privacy when you need it."
I stood and slowly made my way to the door, my fingertips tracing the walls. He didn't say a goodbye, or a thank you, or "I hope trip and fall and die on your way back to your room," but I could be certain I heard the door to the small bathroom open as I left.
Rating: R eventually
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairings: Canon pairings, yes *those* ones, along with Roy/Ed later. This means both het and yaoi with the main characters. You have been warned.
Spoilers: The whole manga/Brotherhood.
Edward Elric keeping bedside vigil
Brother Alphonse remains in serious condition
CENTRAL - Anonymous reports from Amestris General Hospital claim that Alphonse Elric remains in the Intensive Care Unit, suffering from severe malnutrition.
This has confused many, given the knowledge that the younger Elric has been seen at his brother's side wearing a cumbersome suit of armor.
The source, who has spoken to the Central Herald only under the guarantee of anonymity, said that the elder brother, known to many as the Fullmetal Alchemist, has not left his sibling's side since they were rescued by some of Colonel Mustang's men, but that he has given no explanation for his brother's current condition.
At this time, there is no word on any potential legal action that may be taken against Edward Elric or Pinako Rockbell, who were responsible for Alphonse Elric's well-being.
We were all in the same hospital -- Riza, Alphonse and myself. Ed technically was as well, but despite his own war wounds and the medical staff that continued to keep an eye on them, he never once considered himself as or behaved as a patient. I think that if Death approached Ed and told him that it was time for him to die, Ed would argue until even Death was doubting his own records. That stubborn streak, not to be confused with my own, was both my greatest frustration as the teen's superior officer and one of the things I respected most about him. It wasn't perhaps the top, maybe not even top five on the list, but it was there, nonetheless.
My stubborn streak, however, had me walking the halls of the hospital, learning to adapt well enough to my new handicap well enough that, I hoped, I could avoid being tossed out of the military. Riza called it "bull-headed" and "stupid," but she didn't try to stop me. The shock of being permanently blind, even the admittance of it, had yet to hit me, and I knew one and then the other would come eventually, probably in the wake of a major breakdown, but I didn't have time for that now. Though my stubbornness could easily match Ed's worst, I possessed something that the teen did not: self control. And my self control was dictating that I would have that breakdown when it suited me, and that wasn't while I was still recovering from the fight with the homunculi.
For now, I had people in worse shape than me to worry about and a country to help rebuild.
I knew, though, I was still a long way from being much good to anyone; it was all I could do to make my way through the hospital hallways, counting each doorway I encountered until I reached the one I knew was the Elric's. There was a rail that ran the length of each wall, save for the doorways, and I used it to guide myself. It was always ... regrettable when I found it inexplicably wet or sticky. My hands had smaller bandages on them, so my fingers got the brunt of whatever the mystery substance was on the rail. Still, I considered it a better option to the roughly textured wallpaper. It was as abrasive as sandpaper on my fingertips, and after dealing with sore digits after days of relying on the walls, I swore I'd stick to the mystery substances and the railing.
Twelve doors down the hall from the nurses' desk, on the opposite side of the hall from my own room, I knew was where the Elrics were staying. The door to their room was closed, as it usually was to avoid nosy hospital staff members.
"No visitors. Ve ahre resting," a voice called out from within the room in a Drachman accent, a very poorly executed one.
"Don't try to screw with me, Ed," I replied through the wooden door as I reached for the handle. I had found it was easier to grab at and find handles on doors than it was when they had a knob. This concerned me for my return home; most of the doors at my apartmenthad knobs, and not all were at a normal height, a fact I still question. I still wonder who built the place, as half of the door handles were located closer to my knees than my waist. "Your phoney accent fooled me once. It won't again."
I could hear him laughing on the other side as I push down the handle and open the door. "You should have seen your face. Well, I guess you couldn't now that you can't really see a damned thing anymore, but the last time, when you thought you'd gotten the wrong room. That was hysterical!" He was genuinely laughing, not the forced noise that came out of him when Breda or Pinako visited, so even if this was entirely at my expense, I couldn't say I minded all that much.
"Sure, Fullmetal, make fun of the blind man." I made my way over to the chair I already know he was moving toward me. Almost as easily as Riza, Ed had gotten into a routine of how to keep items that would trip me out of my way and moving chairs or items I needed closer to my grasp.
"As though you're any better," he said as I took a seat and slowly rolled the chair a little closer to where he seems to be sitting. "I know you're the one who stuck Nina's alphabet letters to my automail."
I tried to look appalled at the idea. Even with the dark glasses over my eyes, I didn't think I could pull it off. "How could I possibly do that? I can't even see."
"You still know how a magnet works, asshole, and the last time I checked, that didn't require staring at it." Most of my team were shocked at how Ed talked to me, with all of them still tiptoeing around the fact that, no, I couldn't see. And as long as I didn't accept it as permanent, I didn't care that I couldn't at the moment. I had never avoided the topic of Ed's automail before, and even as Al was still in bed, drifting in and out of unconsciousness, it didn't stop me from messing with him however I could. "So," he said, "are you still sporting baby blues?"
I tipped down the glasses and looked in what I assumed was Ed's general direction, at least, I did after rolling my eyes at the question. "I wouldn't know."
"Still blue. Maybe a little darker, but definitely still blue."
Like someone who had suddenly acquired a very severe case of cataracts, both of my eyes had become washed out, lightened by a white film that no doctor seemed to know how to begin removing. Ed seemed most surprised of anyone that my eyes had not gone gray but rather a pale, pale blue. Everyone assumed my eyes were brown or even black, but I could have told them -- and I think Riza could have as well, even at that point when we still considered one another only friends -- that they'd been a dark, almost-navy blue.
"How is Al doing?" I asked, pushing the glasses back up the bridge of my nose.
"He's been waking up off and on," Ed said. "And the doctors think his body is doing better than it should be. I told him he needed to pull through. He kept apologizing to me. Like it was his fault he's like this." I could almost hear the dark cloud that was now hovering over him, as it always did, when he reflected on their attempt to resurrect their mother.
"It's a lot of people's fault, his included."
"Don't say that," Ed snapped back, a dangerous edge cutting through his voice. I had heard it before, and usually, I backed off, but intuition was telling me that pushing the issue now was probably better than doing it later. Later, Al might be awake and have to hear this conversation, but I knew when he was unconscious like this, there was no chance he could hear a word that was being said. And later, Ed would need to be strong to help Al as his body slowly grew stronger. We needed to have this conversation now.
"You might have come up with the idea, but Al helped you." I raised a hand to cut off any argument from Ed that I knew was coming. The fact that the simple move was all it took seemed proof enough to me that a part of him wanted to hear what I was going to say, needed to hear it. "And he was only one year younger than you. It wasn't as though you led your younger brother of five or six into helping you with this transmutation. He was as aware of you that it was considered forbidden, and he knew as much as you did about what you were doing." I heard him tell me to shut up, sounding half-hearted, but I continued. "If we're on the subject of dishing out the blame, you know, when you were both heading for Risembool on the train, Mrs. Curtis didn't call the Rockbells to tell them you were on your way home. And really, Pinako should have called at some point to see how ou were and if you were going to be coming home anytime soon. There is also the fact that your father shouldn't have left all that information behind. It was far too dangerous for anyone to have found, not just you and Al."
Perhaps, if I could have seen him, I might have seen the warning signs of Ed's anger being ready to go off and realized that my interpretation of it being half-hearted was very wrong, but I had no visual clues. That didn't mean I didn't have a fairly good guess that that his fury was building was happening as I recited my laundry list of people who should have done better by the Elric boys prior to that night that changed everything for them.
"How can you say that?" Ed asked in a voice so low that I could practically feel the danger that lurked inside it. "Al listened to me because he was my little brother. And in case you've forgotten, he saved your sorry ass in battle. You'd have been stumbling around blindly while the rest of us fought to save everyone's asses. Izumi is still helping you, you sorry bastard, talking at those idiotic press conferences whenever you're 'too tired.'" I could hear his voice rising and heard the squeaking of the wheels on his chair sliding haphazardly across the tiled floor. I assumed he was standing.
"It is all true, what we've both said. One doesn't change the other."
Ed was close, I could feel his breath on my cheek and his hands at either armrest of my chair were bumping into my arms. I don't know what he thought to achieve in doing this, but if I didn't care before, when I could see his anger firing off, there wasn't a chance I was going to do it now. "Don't say that!" his hissed warning came with some unpleasant spittle that hit my right cheek, probably my glasses too. I raised my hand to wipe his saliva off of my face with a faint look of disgust, but did my best to give no sign I would back down. "My father fucking died for all of us and Al was nearly dead."
"While that may redeem themselves of that action, it doesn't erase that it happened or that blame still rests with them." I withheld a wince as I felt Ed's legs pressing against my own -- his automail was surprisingly painful thanks to a random bolt the digging into my shin.
"It does. It has to, or what good does any of it mean?"
"It means that you all contributed to a mistake, and in some way, you have all paid and made up for it." I put my hand on his arm. "Most people have no problems spreading the blame, but you're the exact opposite. I think if you could, you'd heap all of it on yourself."
"But it isn't fair. It just ... My father isn't even here to defend himself.
Twice now in one sitting I'd heard him refer to Hohenheim as his father. It seemed in that last act of heroism that cost him his life, he had earned what he hadn't been able to while he was still alive: Ed's respect. I supposed that it had always been there, but admitting it aloud as he'd just done would have meant Ed getting past all of the hurt that is father had caused, intentional or not.
"No. He's not here to defend himself, or to apologize, or to even talk to you about how angry you have been with him all these years. You can't force the closure you didn't get with him for leaving by ignoring that he did it and that it was wrong in a lot of ways."
Ed didn't respond right away, so I waited. The bolt was still pushing into my leg, he was still breathing in my face, but we both waited until he finally spoke, his voice cracking just a little. "Are you trying to make me cry or something? Because I'm not likely to do it over him."
I gave Ed's arm a squeeze, sympathetic for the hitch I'd heard in his voice, but I wouldn't dare say anything all. To call attention to it would only cause additional embarrassment to the teen. "I wouldn't expect it," I said instead, "but I wouldn't think less of you if you did."
Ed moved his arm away from my grip and stepped back, thankfully relieving me of the presence of that blasted bolt. "Besides, some people might be willing to cry like a baby," he said in a way that told me that snide little comment, childish at that, was directed at me, "but not all of us are."
I nodded and took an audible sniff of the air, opting for immaturity to match his. "Tell me something, Fullmetal." I got a grunt from him in reply. "When was the last time you took a shower? You stink."
"What the hell are you playing at, Mustang?" Though I'd heard this phrase many times in our professional lives together, I don't think I'd heard it with such genuine confusion. "First, you play feature reporter and try to get me to cry over my father in some idiotic, teary confession of ... I don't know, love for the bastard or something, and now you're telling me I smell? Bastard."
Indeed," I said as I stood from the chair, "I think it would be doing everyone a favor if you showered. Not to mention that the sound of water provides privacy when you need it."
I stood and slowly made my way to the door, my fingertips tracing the walls. He didn't say a goodbye, or a thank you, or "I hope trip and fall and die on your way back to your room," but I could be certain I heard the door to the small bathroom open as I left.