(no subject)
Okay, here's the fma fic I promised! And the song it's based off of is called "I Wanna Feel Something" by Trace Adkins; here's a link: http://youtube.com/watch?v=JZNjlFIjuOM
Title: "Something"
Genres: Romance, Drama (sorta)
Pairings: Royai.
Rating: T for somewhat graphic violence and as a precaution for later.
Summary: Brigadier General Roy Mustang is injured from his battle with the Fuhrer, and now he's having an emotional crisis of sorts. Takes place right after the anime series. Most likely a two-three part short fic.
A/N: Well, here's a short little project of mine; I got a plot bunny while I was trying to go to sleep so I started this the next day (yesterday) at school. This was inspired by the song "I Wanna Feel Something" by Trace Adkins. I'll post a link to a video in my own LJ in case anyone wants to hear it-- this may make a little more sense if you do. It's country, as a warning for you country-music-haters. Anyway, on with the fic!
Disclaimer: Don't own. If I did, you should be afraid. Veeeeeery afraid.
Something, part One
The Flame Alchemist snaps his fingers.
Just a snap, and they burned.
He stands back and watches as their skin blackens, their clothes turning to ashes in mere seconds.
You just stood back and watched.
He hears them scream.
You didn’t do anything.
He sees the terror in their faces.
You could’ve saved them.
He takes a single step back.
You didn’t even hesitate.
He slowly begins to realize what he’s done.
They did nothing to deserve this.
Tears cloud his eyes--whether they’re from the smoke or emotion he can’t tell.
You’re a murderer.
I’m not a murderer. I was on orders, he tries to tell himself.
Quit lying to yourself. You’re a murderer.
No!
MURDERER!
Roy Mustang sits bolt upright, then regrets it as a sharp pain shoots through his ribs. He’s covered in sweat, as are his sheets, which are wrapped uncomfortably around his legs. His bare chest heaves with his breathing.
A quick glance at the clock; it’s 2 a.m. Riza Hawkeye is sleeping peacefully beside his hospital bed. The poor woman has barely left his side; he vaguely remembers hearing her voice barking at the nurses to be gentler. (They’d obeyed right away, of course.)
But that dream… He’d had it repeatedly since the incident with the Fuhrer. It isn’t the dream itself that scares him though. It’s his reaction.
It’s like there isn’t one.
Indifference, apathy, no emotional response… it scares even him, the hardened dog of the military.
What have I become? he asks himself in desperation.
A monster, answers the voice from his dream.
He coughs; Riza jerks awake. “Oh. Why’re you up?” she asks sleepily.
“Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”
She mutters something that he can’t understand, then lies her head back down on the pillow leaned against the arm of the couch. A few strands of golden hair fall into her face, and he wants so bad to brush them away, to touch the soft skin of that beautiful face. He reaches out one hand towards her, then stops abruptly - he can’t reach. Besides, it’s not wise to startle such a trigger-happy woman, and he’s in bad enough condition as it is without a few extra bullet wounds.
He slowly drifts off to sleep again, thinking of her deep brown eyes.
A/N: Soo? What do you think? Please comment! And sorry for it being so short; I wanted to go ahead and post this and it seemed like a good stopping place. Thankees for reading!
Title: "Something"
Genres: Romance, Drama (sorta)
Pairings: Royai.
Rating: T for somewhat graphic violence and as a precaution for later.
Summary: Brigadier General Roy Mustang is injured from his battle with the Fuhrer, and now he's having an emotional crisis of sorts. Takes place right after the anime series. Most likely a two-three part short fic.
A/N: Well, here's a short little project of mine; I got a plot bunny while I was trying to go to sleep so I started this the next day (yesterday) at school. This was inspired by the song "I Wanna Feel Something" by Trace Adkins. I'll post a link to a video in my own LJ in case anyone wants to hear it-- this may make a little more sense if you do. It's country, as a warning for you country-music-haters. Anyway, on with the fic!
Disclaimer: Don't own. If I did, you should be afraid. Veeeeeery afraid.
Something, part One
The Flame Alchemist snaps his fingers.
Just a snap, and they burned.
He stands back and watches as their skin blackens, their clothes turning to ashes in mere seconds.
You just stood back and watched.
He hears them scream.
You didn’t do anything.
He sees the terror in their faces.
You could’ve saved them.
He takes a single step back.
You didn’t even hesitate.
He slowly begins to realize what he’s done.
They did nothing to deserve this.
Tears cloud his eyes--whether they’re from the smoke or emotion he can’t tell.
You’re a murderer.
I’m not a murderer. I was on orders, he tries to tell himself.
Quit lying to yourself. You’re a murderer.
No!
MURDERER!
Roy Mustang sits bolt upright, then regrets it as a sharp pain shoots through his ribs. He’s covered in sweat, as are his sheets, which are wrapped uncomfortably around his legs. His bare chest heaves with his breathing.
A quick glance at the clock; it’s 2 a.m. Riza Hawkeye is sleeping peacefully beside his hospital bed. The poor woman has barely left his side; he vaguely remembers hearing her voice barking at the nurses to be gentler. (They’d obeyed right away, of course.)
But that dream… He’d had it repeatedly since the incident with the Fuhrer. It isn’t the dream itself that scares him though. It’s his reaction.
It’s like there isn’t one.
Indifference, apathy, no emotional response… it scares even him, the hardened dog of the military.
What have I become? he asks himself in desperation.
A monster, answers the voice from his dream.
He coughs; Riza jerks awake. “Oh. Why’re you up?” she asks sleepily.
“Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”
She mutters something that he can’t understand, then lies her head back down on the pillow leaned against the arm of the couch. A few strands of golden hair fall into her face, and he wants so bad to brush them away, to touch the soft skin of that beautiful face. He reaches out one hand towards her, then stops abruptly - he can’t reach. Besides, it’s not wise to startle such a trigger-happy woman, and he’s in bad enough condition as it is without a few extra bullet wounds.
He slowly drifts off to sleep again, thinking of her deep brown eyes.
A/N: Soo? What do you think? Please comment! And sorry for it being so short; I wanted to go ahead and post this and it seemed like a good stopping place. Thankees for reading!