FMA_FIC_Contest- Prompt 56, Crazy Like a Fox, "Deliverance" (Roy Mustang)
Title: Deliverance
Author: Unknown
Series: Either
Word Count: 918
Rating: PG
Characters: Roy Mustang
Summary: Roy laments about the irony of his later life.
Warnings: Possible AU future.
Wind whipped outside the paper thin walls of the small shack that Roy had called home for more years that he cared to think about. Winter had come with a vengance, and Roy chuckled bitterly at the irony- a low laugh that developed into a wet, sickly, hacking cough.
'I'm the Flame Alchemist, and I'm going to die huddled under thin blankets, trying to keep the chill out of my bones,' he thought to himself wryly. He didn't even try to laugh a second time, falling immediately back into a cough that brought a slimy mass up his throat which settled in his mouth until he spit it out.
"Hmm. More blood this time. It must be getting worse." He had stopped feeling any sort of discomfort quite a while ago. So much of his body was totally numb that it didn't even seem to register with his pain receptors that he was hacking up increasingly large pieces of his lungs.
A loud howl of wind passed outside the shack. The timbers that made up the ramshakle walls rattled. When the gale hit the front door, it burst open, and a small cyclone of wind and snow twirled in and deposited its payload at the threshhold of the small house's entrance.
Roy wanted to get up to close the door, but as soon as he tried to move, the pain returned with a vengance, exploding across his body and inside his chest, causing an even louder and more violent series of coughs.
His silver hair wafted in the cold breeze that now filled the tiny room. 'What an embarassing way to go- alone and cold, not even able to shut the door.' He silently lamented with a sigh.
Maybe he was crazy to think that he would be lucky enough to be granted a short life. He had been a human weapon. An early death would've been too merciful for the likes of him. Instead, he had decades to rot at the top of the world. Time to remember all the terrible things that he had done throughout his life. Time for the nightmares to invade his dreams so much that he was just as afraid to be asleep as he was to stay awake. 'I guess that's the fate I deserve. A monster like me shouldn't get deliverance.' He thought bitterly.
The wind seemed to agree, as a particularly bad gust came through the wide open front door and tossed Roy's blanket off his bare feet. He shivered, but even that small movement created another series of raucous, juicy coughs.
It seemed unfair that he had outlived all of his subordinates, friends, and family. One had succumbed to his unhealthy habit. His two brightest men had been pulled into a war that they didn't want to fight and came home with the flag of Amestris draped over their coffins- a heroes' welcome that they'd never gotten while alive, when they truly deserved it. Only the oldest of all of them had been 'lucky' enough to die of natural causes.
His foster mother had lasted a lot longer than he thought she would, considering her lifestyle. But even the toughest of people succumbed eventually, and he had to bury her too.
And then there was his angel, the blonde sniper that revolved around his world like planets around the sun. He loved her- with all of his heart and soul- and he wanted to believe that she felt the same way, but by the time their world and their lives had settled, she had already found someone else. A man who treated her like the goddess that she was. Roy's heart was broken, but he knew that it was what she deserved. Since her father was dead, Riza asked Roy to give her away, and even though it took every ounce of strength that he had, he did it with a warm smile and words of happiness.
That had nearly killed him.
She had been taken in the cruelest way possible. She died trying to bring another life into this world. The mother and son had died, and her husband- her widow- had to bury the two people most precious to him.
Roy knew all too well how that felt. He was there at her funeral. And once again, that had nearly been enough to kill him.
But he wouldn't be lucky enough to die that soon.
One funeral after another. He got older, and he kept burying the few people that he had let fully into his life- the only ones who had ever gotten under the mask that he wore to the rest of the world and saw the real Roy Mustang.
They were all dead- and he was still here- in what semblance of a life this was.
“Maybe if I'm lucky pneumonia will kill me before this cough does.” He said wistfully to the empty space around him. A large yawn filled his face, and he thinned his dark eyes slightly. He wasn't sure why, but suddenly he felt quite sleepy. Roy closed his eyes, hoping that he would dream about a nice, warm, summer day.
There was a tiny part of Roy that seemed to realize that this was much more than simple drowsiness. He would never admit it to the more rational side of himself that this was going to be the last sleep that he ever had.
“Maes, I guess it's finally time. I'll be meeting you again soon...”
Author: Unknown
Series: Either
Word Count: 918
Rating: PG
Characters: Roy Mustang
Summary: Roy laments about the irony of his later life.
Warnings: Possible AU future.
Wind whipped outside the paper thin walls of the small shack that Roy had called home for more years that he cared to think about. Winter had come with a vengance, and Roy chuckled bitterly at the irony- a low laugh that developed into a wet, sickly, hacking cough.
'I'm the Flame Alchemist, and I'm going to die huddled under thin blankets, trying to keep the chill out of my bones,' he thought to himself wryly. He didn't even try to laugh a second time, falling immediately back into a cough that brought a slimy mass up his throat which settled in his mouth until he spit it out.
"Hmm. More blood this time. It must be getting worse." He had stopped feeling any sort of discomfort quite a while ago. So much of his body was totally numb that it didn't even seem to register with his pain receptors that he was hacking up increasingly large pieces of his lungs.
A loud howl of wind passed outside the shack. The timbers that made up the ramshakle walls rattled. When the gale hit the front door, it burst open, and a small cyclone of wind and snow twirled in and deposited its payload at the threshhold of the small house's entrance.
Roy wanted to get up to close the door, but as soon as he tried to move, the pain returned with a vengance, exploding across his body and inside his chest, causing an even louder and more violent series of coughs.
His silver hair wafted in the cold breeze that now filled the tiny room. 'What an embarassing way to go- alone and cold, not even able to shut the door.' He silently lamented with a sigh.
Maybe he was crazy to think that he would be lucky enough to be granted a short life. He had been a human weapon. An early death would've been too merciful for the likes of him. Instead, he had decades to rot at the top of the world. Time to remember all the terrible things that he had done throughout his life. Time for the nightmares to invade his dreams so much that he was just as afraid to be asleep as he was to stay awake. 'I guess that's the fate I deserve. A monster like me shouldn't get deliverance.' He thought bitterly.
The wind seemed to agree, as a particularly bad gust came through the wide open front door and tossed Roy's blanket off his bare feet. He shivered, but even that small movement created another series of raucous, juicy coughs.
It seemed unfair that he had outlived all of his subordinates, friends, and family. One had succumbed to his unhealthy habit. His two brightest men had been pulled into a war that they didn't want to fight and came home with the flag of Amestris draped over their coffins- a heroes' welcome that they'd never gotten while alive, when they truly deserved it. Only the oldest of all of them had been 'lucky' enough to die of natural causes.
His foster mother had lasted a lot longer than he thought she would, considering her lifestyle. But even the toughest of people succumbed eventually, and he had to bury her too.
And then there was his angel, the blonde sniper that revolved around his world like planets around the sun. He loved her- with all of his heart and soul- and he wanted to believe that she felt the same way, but by the time their world and their lives had settled, she had already found someone else. A man who treated her like the goddess that she was. Roy's heart was broken, but he knew that it was what she deserved. Since her father was dead, Riza asked Roy to give her away, and even though it took every ounce of strength that he had, he did it with a warm smile and words of happiness.
That had nearly killed him.
She had been taken in the cruelest way possible. She died trying to bring another life into this world. The mother and son had died, and her husband- her widow- had to bury the two people most precious to him.
Roy knew all too well how that felt. He was there at her funeral. And once again, that had nearly been enough to kill him.
But he wouldn't be lucky enough to die that soon.
One funeral after another. He got older, and he kept burying the few people that he had let fully into his life- the only ones who had ever gotten under the mask that he wore to the rest of the world and saw the real Roy Mustang.
They were all dead- and he was still here- in what semblance of a life this was.
“Maybe if I'm lucky pneumonia will kill me before this cough does.” He said wistfully to the empty space around him. A large yawn filled his face, and he thinned his dark eyes slightly. He wasn't sure why, but suddenly he felt quite sleepy. Roy closed his eyes, hoping that he would dream about a nice, warm, summer day.
There was a tiny part of Roy that seemed to realize that this was much more than simple drowsiness. He would never admit it to the more rational side of himself that this was going to be the last sleep that he ever had.
“Maes, I guess it's finally time. I'll be meeting you again soon...”