From the fic-meme I posted in my journal a bit over a week ago. First, the one
treesock requested, an 'AU Hughes Family Fluff' fic. AU due to its basis that the end of ep 25 turned out differently. I don't really like it, but I wasn't expecting to, as I usually don't write light, humorous, fluffy pieces. Hopefully you'll think it's better than I think it is. (583 words)
"Nothing Really Changes"
Willpower could change the world, at least that bit nearest the person exerting their will. Hughes had come to this realization after the shape-shifting being had shot him. The bullet should have killed him, he had known so then, and still knew so now. As it had knocked him to the ground, scenes from his life had played themselves out a second time, but even after he experienced being shot again, scenes had continued to play. He had seen the doctors unable to save him, seen his funeral, seen Elysia ask Gracia why he was being buried, seen the sadness that had fallen over his family afterward. He couldn't bear seeing Elysia in such a depressed state and had denied the truth of the last scenes until darkness had claimed him. He had woken to the sight of a tired-looking Gracia sitting next to his hospital bed.
"Elysia saved your life, Maes."
"Is she okay?" he glanced around frantically for his daughter, wincing at the pain that came in his chest when he turned in his bed.
Gracia chuckled. "She's fine. I guess I should have said that your obsessive love for her saved you," she held up his wallet, which now had a hole going through its center. "The multitudes of pictures you had of her slowed down the bullet enough to nullify the lethality of the shot. You're a lucky man."
"I know. I have Elysia." Gracia looked at him expectantly. "And you, of course!"
***
"What is this, Hughes?" Roy held up the odd garment Hughes had placed among the papers on his desk.
"A uniform that utilizes multiple layers of photos of Elysia," he flipped open the jacket part, revealing the pictures, "See? Isn't she cute?"
"Yes, I can see what it is. What's it for?"
"It's a semi-bulletproof outfit. The thickness of the photos serves to slow down bullets enough to nullify fatal wounds. It also works as a deterrent. Once the enemy catches a glimpse of Elysia's face, they won't even want to shoot! Look at that innocent smile, that--"
"Hughes--"
"--perfectly blonde hair, that--"
"Hughes!"
"What?"
"I get the picture. Go home."
Roy sighed as he left. It seemed that Hughes' Elysia obsession had only intensified since he had left the hospital.
***
Two Elysias sat in his living room when Hughes got home, but he had no difficulty determining the real one, nor would anybody else. The double was a bit too tall, the hair not quite right, eyes the wrong color, and obviously a boy. In addition, the fake looked aggravated in contrast to the always-cheerful Elysia. Hughes burst into laughter as he identified the crossdressed boy as Ed, another testament to the strength of willpower. His unwillingness to lose his brother had resulted in a most ingenious way of saving him. Hughes ignored the intense glare Ed shot him in response to his laughter.
"Daddy, look, now there's two of me!"
"Nice try, imposter," He said, picking up Ed, "But I'd know my daughter anywhere, and this is her, isn't it Elysia?"
"No! Put me down! I only agreed to this because Elysia and Al forced me to!"
"Oh! I guess your height tricked me then." Hughes said, feigning innocence and taking a stab at Ed since he refused to play along.
"Who are you calling so short that a ruler couldn't measure his height?!!?!"
"Nothing really changes, does it?" reflected Gracia after the ensuing laughter had died down.
Next, the one
samaside requested, a pre-series Hohenheim/Trisha fic. Contains some spoilers for near the end of the series, and I think I might have made Hoho a bit too introspective rather than detached, but I like this one better than the Hughes one. Without any further preamble (664 words):
Hohenheim knew he didn't deserve a wife as loving and beautiful as Trisha. Knew also that he couldn't stay with her forever. Not only would she have to watch his flesh decay, but he would have to watch her die while he lived on. At one point, he would have said that immortality guaranteed happiness. Seeing history happen, enjoying the pleasures life had to offer for all eternity. Romantic ideals, he now knew, that ignored the reality of the situation. To truly enjoy living forever one needed solitude, to avoid making social ties to people that one would inevitably have to outlive. Even the most solitary man, however, needed at least one social contact to remain happy and retain his humanity. In Hohenheim's case, Trisha filled that role. Granted, in previous lives, others had held that position, but he hadn't truly loved any of them. He smiled mournfully as he admired the form of his wife, who must have sensed something of his thoughts.
"What's wrong, honey?"
"Everything. Nothing. Don't worry about it." How he wanted to tell her the truth, but he didn't know how she'd react. Didn't want to know how, didn't know if he could handle her response.
"It's my sickness, isn't it? I hadn't thought it that evident yet."
"Yes...yes, that's it. I'm worried for you." Sickness? No, she was still young, sickness couldn't take her! He wasn't ready to give her up, wouldn't be until his own decaying flesh forced him to.
"I've still got at least a few years ahead of me, and the doctor says most of them should be happy, mostly free from trauma. I do wish you'd spend at least a little time with your children, though. If the doctor's right, I'll die when the kids are only 9 and 10 years old. Kids that young shouldn't have to grow up by themselves."
He winced; he couldn't get close to anybody else. "Trish--"
"Do you really abhor your children that much?"
"Of course not! They're beautiful, intelligent little boys, and I'm proud to be their father. It's just that--that I don't want them to end up like me. I've done horrible things, Trish. You don't know the man you married."
"Maybe not the whole man, but I do know him. Everyone has done things they're not proud of, Henny. I know you for the soft, gentle man that you are. A bit reserved, but that just adds a pleasing layer of mystery to you. You've done more for me than most husbands do for their wives, and no matter what you've done, I'll still love you."
No she wouldn't; nobody could. "I've killed thousands of innocents numerous times for no reason other than to extend my own life. I don't deserve your love."
He had finally exposed the truth, had to tell everything now. Hohenheim continued to speak, detailing the deepest corners of himself. About Dante, about his past lives, his past forms, his past lovers, his rotting flesh. He opened his heart completely, revealed his solitude, his pain, his remorse, how he hadn't truly loved anyone until Trisha. Tears flowed freely from his eyes by the time he had finished, attention fixed on Trisha, expecting the worst. He was thus completely unprepared for the hug she delivered and he fell to the floor with her, still locked in her embrace.
"Even after all I've done? Why, Trish?"
"How have you been able to get by for so long?"
"I had you."
"There's your answer then. I love you, and you love me. Sometimes the simplest answer is the only answer."
"You won't tell Ed and Al what I've done, will you?"
"No. They don't need to know."
They lay on the floor in each other's embrace for some time. He truly didn't deserve her, but if she was willing to ignore that fact, then so was he. He smiled contentedly as he drifted off to sleep, Trisha soon following him into slumber.
'Twas fun, and should anybody else desire a mini-fic, feel free to request one. As I said in the original post, I have pretty much no limitations as to what I'll write. Just let me know the genre, rating, and character(s) you want the fic to involve, and I'll write it. That said, I'm out!