FMA_Fic_Contest- Prompt 53, Ishbal, "Big Dreams" (Jean Havoc)
Title: Big Dreams
Author: Seaweed_FMA
Series: Either, though I guess more manga-ish
Word Count: 1833
Rating: PG
Characters: Jean Havoc, his parents, and one OC.
Summary: A boy grows up, dreaming of doing great things.
Warnings: Talk about war, injury, and death. Nothing too graphic.
Thanks: Heather and Emma for making this much better than it was before.
Notes: This is the time line I came up with for this fic. I'm not sure of Jean's age, but this seems to make sense to me.
1885- Roy and Maes born
1888- Riza born
1890- Jean born
1901- Ishbal starts (Roy and Maes 16, Riza 13, Jean 11)
1908- Alchemist sent to Ishbal (Roy and Maes 23, Riza 21, Jean 18)
1901
“Hey Ma, why are there men in blue jackets coming into our store?”
“They're soldiers, dear. They're going to the conflict in the east.”
“What're they fighting for?”
Jean's mother sighed and stopped doing the dishes. She turned to face her son that was standing behind her, his bright blue eyes full of interest. She put the plate that she'd been cleaning back into the dishwater, then kneeled, taking her son's hands in her own.
“Jean, honey, sometimes people do bad things. Sometimes an entire group of people do bad things. And when they do, it is up to another group of people to police them and make sure that they stop doing those bad things. That's what the Fuhrer and his men are doing. The Ishballans attacked some
Amestrians, so now the soldiers are going in to stop them from doing anything else.”
Jean's face scrunched up in confusion as he let the words sink in. “So... people are going to die?”
She held him tight, rocking him back and forth softly. “Yes, honey.” She whispered into his ear. “But you're safe here. I promise I'll never let anything happen to you.”
**
1908
“Ma. I'm done with the chores.” Jean came in, wiping the sweat from his brow, spreading a streak of dirt across his forehead.
“Okay, honey. I'm in the living room.” The lanky teen walked in to find his mother sitting in her favorite chair, reading the Eastern Times newspaper- something she had been doing for as long as he could remember. Ever since the Ishballan conflict had started, she'd been glued to the newspaper, devouring every new piece off information that came through.
Jean remembered how, as he was growing up, he became more and more interested in the war. He would go out back, into the forest, and find a hollow in the trees. He had a rough sword that he had carved from an old two by four that his dad had used to fix the barn, and he would often pretend that he was Fuhrer Bradley, chopping down those evil Ishballans with each swipe.
“So what are they saying?”
“There are rumors that they are going to send in state alchemists soon if the conflict isn't resolved.” Unfortunately for Jean's mother, that only made him even more excited. His eyes went wide. He had heard about alchemists and tried to learn all he could about them- like the one that could create guns by slamming his hands together, or the one who could make things out of stone by putting his fists on the ground, or a young alchemist right out the Academy that could create fire. They were closest things to celebrities that his 'hick town' would ever know.
“Hey, Ma. I'm old enough to go to the Military Academy. I've been thinking about it for a long time. I wanna join up and help them.”
“Jean, I'm not about to let my only child go and get himself killed on the battlefield.”
“I still have to go through the Academy. If they do send the alchemists in, the battle will be over long before I'm done with school, and when it's over, I can help rebuild the Ishballan community, make it a better place.”
His mother shook her head. “I don't want you doing something that dangerous.”
“Ma, I could fall from the ladder in the store and break my neck. I could get maimed or killed on the farm machinery on Mr. Jenkins' farm. I do dangerous things every day. If I went into the military, I'd be trained on how to stay safe, and I'd be around hundreds of other trained men.” He ran his large, calloused hand through his spiky hair. “I just wanna help, Ma. I feel like I'm stagnating. It's great here, but I wanna do more. I know I can make a difference.”
“We need to talk this over with your Pa.” They both knew that meant the end of the conversation. But one look into her son's eyes, and she knew that he had already made up his mind. She loved him with all of her heart, but he had a lot of his dad's stubbornness inside of him. Once he decided to do something, Hell or high water was not going to stop him.
**
As the weeks passed, Jean's mother hoped that the silly idea of going into the military would be replaced by another passing interest that would fill his head and push the thoughts of a soldier's life out of his mind.
But the day that a train full of soldiers coming back from the rebellion broke down right outside their town was the day that Jean Havoc knew what he wanted to do with his life.
It didn't take long for word to spread through town that the soldiers were here for a couple of days, and they were patronizing the local shops and restaurants. Being a small farming village, there were not many stores, so it was inevitable that they would find Havoc's Sundries.
Even though Jean usually worked with Farmer Jenkins through the summer and fall- helping him plant and then harvest his crops in the day, and working with his parents in the evening at the store- he'd been working in the store the day after the train came in. With all the extra foot traffic, they needed as much help they could get.
By the end of the day, Jean was bone tired. Both of his parents had retired to the house- which was attached to the side of the store- to start dinner, and he was left to close up. He had almost completed his duties when he heard a knock on the door.
“We're closed. Please come back tomorrow.” He just wanted to finish up and be able to sink into a big, plush chair for the next couple of hours.
“Please, I just need some snacks. Our train is leaving in the morning.”
He had heard some some of the soldiers later in the day say that the train was almost fixed and they were going to be heading out first thing tomorrow morning. Despite his utter fascination with the rebellion, he hadn't had time to have an actual conversation with a solider. This could be his last chance.
“Okay, one minute.” He went to the front door and was surprised to see a solider with bandages around one arm and covering part of his head. He tried not to stare, but this man was the first injured person that he had seen, despite everyone who had come through that day.
“Please, come in.” Jean flipped on the lights again so he could get around easier. As he moved inside the door, he noticed that one of the man's eyes was bandaged, and he could see tiny flecks of red soaking through it.
“Thank you, sir. I just need a little food. It's gonna be a long trip back to Central tomorrow, and the food on the train is less than ideal.”
“Central, I've always wanted to go there. I hear there are really tall buildings, wide streets and every kind of store that you could imagine!” His blue eyes were shining with wonder. “And you can call me Jean. I'm just a kid.”
The soldier chuckled and held out his uninjured hand. “Corporal James Blackwell. It's nice to meet you, Jean. Central is pretty nice, but I'm a city boy, so it's no big deal to me.” The man's eyes moved around the store. “I was just hoping for some snacks.”
Jean started moving around, gathering up a few things and talking as he went. “I'll get you some dried smoked meat and some dried fruits. They'll keep for a while if you don't eat it all on the train. I'll put in a little bit of candy too. I know everyone gets a sweet tooth.” As the blond was flittering around the store, he looked back at the soldier. He couldn't have been older than 20, only a couple of years older than himself. But his eyes were already sunken in and he could see the age and stress behind them. It was amazing that a smile still seemed to come so easily to his face.
“The war...” Jean finally said, when he had finished gathering up the snacks, plus a few magazines so he would have some reading material and a deck of cards to keep his hands busy. “...is it worth it?”
That warm smile came back into the soldier's eyes. “Yes.” he said, without hesitation. “It's hell- the heat of the desert, the hours of boredom and moments of utter fear, the feeling of shooting another human being...” A look of horror flashed across his face for a moment, and then it was gone. But it was long enough for Jean to see it, and it made him shiver.
“... but there are many citizens that live on the edge of Ishballan land, and we have to protect them. If we don't do it, then no one will.”
Jean nodded his head. He couldn't even imagine how it would feel to take another person's life, and as much as he wanted to ask the solider about it, he had a feeling that it wasn't the right thing to do.
“How much do I owe you?” The question drew Jean out of his quiet contemplation. He looked over the items. It was really no more than a few cens. “It's on me.” Jean said, putting the items in a small paper bag and handing it to the soldier. “Consider it repayment for answering my questions.”
“Thank you!” Corporal Blackwell smiled widely. “I better get back to the train before curfew. It's been nice talking to you, Jean. Perhaps we'll meet again. I get the feeling I'll see you wearing the blue.”
“If I can convince my parents, maybe.” Jean chuckled. He held the front door open to let the solider out and waved a hand. “Thank you, Corporal. I hope you get back home safely.” Despite the looming darkness that was overtaking the sky, Jean watched until the man was just a small dot on the horizon, heading towards the train tracks.
It only took a few minutes to close the store up for the night, then Jean headed into the house.
“That took a while. Is everything okay?” She looked into her son's eyes and immediately knew that something was going on. “Jean, what is it?”
The blond collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, glad to finally get off his aching feet. “Ma, Pa, we need to talk about me joining the military.”
Author: Seaweed_FMA
Series: Either, though I guess more manga-ish
Word Count: 1833
Rating: PG
Characters: Jean Havoc, his parents, and one OC.
Summary: A boy grows up, dreaming of doing great things.
Warnings: Talk about war, injury, and death. Nothing too graphic.
Thanks: Heather and Emma for making this much better than it was before.
Notes: This is the time line I came up with for this fic. I'm not sure of Jean's age, but this seems to make sense to me.
1885- Roy and Maes born
1888- Riza born
1890- Jean born
1901- Ishbal starts (Roy and Maes 16, Riza 13, Jean 11)
1908- Alchemist sent to Ishbal (Roy and Maes 23, Riza 21, Jean 18)
1901
“Hey Ma, why are there men in blue jackets coming into our store?”
“They're soldiers, dear. They're going to the conflict in the east.”
“What're they fighting for?”
Jean's mother sighed and stopped doing the dishes. She turned to face her son that was standing behind her, his bright blue eyes full of interest. She put the plate that she'd been cleaning back into the dishwater, then kneeled, taking her son's hands in her own.
“Jean, honey, sometimes people do bad things. Sometimes an entire group of people do bad things. And when they do, it is up to another group of people to police them and make sure that they stop doing those bad things. That's what the Fuhrer and his men are doing. The Ishballans attacked some
Amestrians, so now the soldiers are going in to stop them from doing anything else.”
Jean's face scrunched up in confusion as he let the words sink in. “So... people are going to die?”
She held him tight, rocking him back and forth softly. “Yes, honey.” She whispered into his ear. “But you're safe here. I promise I'll never let anything happen to you.”
**
1908
“Ma. I'm done with the chores.” Jean came in, wiping the sweat from his brow, spreading a streak of dirt across his forehead.
“Okay, honey. I'm in the living room.” The lanky teen walked in to find his mother sitting in her favorite chair, reading the Eastern Times newspaper- something she had been doing for as long as he could remember. Ever since the Ishballan conflict had started, she'd been glued to the newspaper, devouring every new piece off information that came through.
Jean remembered how, as he was growing up, he became more and more interested in the war. He would go out back, into the forest, and find a hollow in the trees. He had a rough sword that he had carved from an old two by four that his dad had used to fix the barn, and he would often pretend that he was Fuhrer Bradley, chopping down those evil Ishballans with each swipe.
“So what are they saying?”
“There are rumors that they are going to send in state alchemists soon if the conflict isn't resolved.” Unfortunately for Jean's mother, that only made him even more excited. His eyes went wide. He had heard about alchemists and tried to learn all he could about them- like the one that could create guns by slamming his hands together, or the one who could make things out of stone by putting his fists on the ground, or a young alchemist right out the Academy that could create fire. They were closest things to celebrities that his 'hick town' would ever know.
“Hey, Ma. I'm old enough to go to the Military Academy. I've been thinking about it for a long time. I wanna join up and help them.”
“Jean, I'm not about to let my only child go and get himself killed on the battlefield.”
“I still have to go through the Academy. If they do send the alchemists in, the battle will be over long before I'm done with school, and when it's over, I can help rebuild the Ishballan community, make it a better place.”
His mother shook her head. “I don't want you doing something that dangerous.”
“Ma, I could fall from the ladder in the store and break my neck. I could get maimed or killed on the farm machinery on Mr. Jenkins' farm. I do dangerous things every day. If I went into the military, I'd be trained on how to stay safe, and I'd be around hundreds of other trained men.” He ran his large, calloused hand through his spiky hair. “I just wanna help, Ma. I feel like I'm stagnating. It's great here, but I wanna do more. I know I can make a difference.”
“We need to talk this over with your Pa.” They both knew that meant the end of the conversation. But one look into her son's eyes, and she knew that he had already made up his mind. She loved him with all of her heart, but he had a lot of his dad's stubbornness inside of him. Once he decided to do something, Hell or high water was not going to stop him.
**
As the weeks passed, Jean's mother hoped that the silly idea of going into the military would be replaced by another passing interest that would fill his head and push the thoughts of a soldier's life out of his mind.
But the day that a train full of soldiers coming back from the rebellion broke down right outside their town was the day that Jean Havoc knew what he wanted to do with his life.
It didn't take long for word to spread through town that the soldiers were here for a couple of days, and they were patronizing the local shops and restaurants. Being a small farming village, there were not many stores, so it was inevitable that they would find Havoc's Sundries.
Even though Jean usually worked with Farmer Jenkins through the summer and fall- helping him plant and then harvest his crops in the day, and working with his parents in the evening at the store- he'd been working in the store the day after the train came in. With all the extra foot traffic, they needed as much help they could get.
By the end of the day, Jean was bone tired. Both of his parents had retired to the house- which was attached to the side of the store- to start dinner, and he was left to close up. He had almost completed his duties when he heard a knock on the door.
“We're closed. Please come back tomorrow.” He just wanted to finish up and be able to sink into a big, plush chair for the next couple of hours.
“Please, I just need some snacks. Our train is leaving in the morning.”
He had heard some some of the soldiers later in the day say that the train was almost fixed and they were going to be heading out first thing tomorrow morning. Despite his utter fascination with the rebellion, he hadn't had time to have an actual conversation with a solider. This could be his last chance.
“Okay, one minute.” He went to the front door and was surprised to see a solider with bandages around one arm and covering part of his head. He tried not to stare, but this man was the first injured person that he had seen, despite everyone who had come through that day.
“Please, come in.” Jean flipped on the lights again so he could get around easier. As he moved inside the door, he noticed that one of the man's eyes was bandaged, and he could see tiny flecks of red soaking through it.
“Thank you, sir. I just need a little food. It's gonna be a long trip back to Central tomorrow, and the food on the train is less than ideal.”
“Central, I've always wanted to go there. I hear there are really tall buildings, wide streets and every kind of store that you could imagine!” His blue eyes were shining with wonder. “And you can call me Jean. I'm just a kid.”
The soldier chuckled and held out his uninjured hand. “Corporal James Blackwell. It's nice to meet you, Jean. Central is pretty nice, but I'm a city boy, so it's no big deal to me.” The man's eyes moved around the store. “I was just hoping for some snacks.”
Jean started moving around, gathering up a few things and talking as he went. “I'll get you some dried smoked meat and some dried fruits. They'll keep for a while if you don't eat it all on the train. I'll put in a little bit of candy too. I know everyone gets a sweet tooth.” As the blond was flittering around the store, he looked back at the soldier. He couldn't have been older than 20, only a couple of years older than himself. But his eyes were already sunken in and he could see the age and stress behind them. It was amazing that a smile still seemed to come so easily to his face.
“The war...” Jean finally said, when he had finished gathering up the snacks, plus a few magazines so he would have some reading material and a deck of cards to keep his hands busy. “...is it worth it?”
That warm smile came back into the soldier's eyes. “Yes.” he said, without hesitation. “It's hell- the heat of the desert, the hours of boredom and moments of utter fear, the feeling of shooting another human being...” A look of horror flashed across his face for a moment, and then it was gone. But it was long enough for Jean to see it, and it made him shiver.
“... but there are many citizens that live on the edge of Ishballan land, and we have to protect them. If we don't do it, then no one will.”
Jean nodded his head. He couldn't even imagine how it would feel to take another person's life, and as much as he wanted to ask the solider about it, he had a feeling that it wasn't the right thing to do.
“How much do I owe you?” The question drew Jean out of his quiet contemplation. He looked over the items. It was really no more than a few cens. “It's on me.” Jean said, putting the items in a small paper bag and handing it to the soldier. “Consider it repayment for answering my questions.”
“Thank you!” Corporal Blackwell smiled widely. “I better get back to the train before curfew. It's been nice talking to you, Jean. Perhaps we'll meet again. I get the feeling I'll see you wearing the blue.”
“If I can convince my parents, maybe.” Jean chuckled. He held the front door open to let the solider out and waved a hand. “Thank you, Corporal. I hope you get back home safely.” Despite the looming darkness that was overtaking the sky, Jean watched until the man was just a small dot on the horizon, heading towards the train tracks.
It only took a few minutes to close the store up for the night, then Jean headed into the house.
“That took a while. Is everything okay?” She looked into her son's eyes and immediately knew that something was going on. “Jean, what is it?”
The blond collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, glad to finally get off his aching feet. “Ma, Pa, we need to talk about me joining the military.”