For some strange reason, I can't stop writing about Nina... *shrugs* It's how my mind works, don't ask... *skitters off before she gets hit*
Title: The Rain Will Stop Soon
Author: Lain Blackchurch
Rating: PG-13 for Roy's thoughts having swears >.<
Genre: Gen (no romance)
Characters: Roy and Edward
Spoilers: Episodes 7 through 8's prologue
Summary: No, Edward, you can't alchemize me into the alley wall, it just won't happen tonight. Or ever for that matter.
He's so small compared to that blood stain on the wall. I can see it all the way from inside the car. Hawkeye gives one of her wan looks at me, and right there, I know that she's a mind reader, a goddamned mind reader. "Why don't you go, Sir... I'll make sure the cab waits," she says coolly, and I grit my teeth.
"I should hide it better," I mumble to myself and quietly step out of the car, my boots plashing in the shallow puddles of rain. Their is clapping, and the popping of a chain of alchemic reactions coming from the narrow alley.
I don't think that Alphonse has seen me yet, and so, I take a few tentative steps into the dark. There is a flash of yellow light, and I know that Edward is trying his damndest to do something about the issue of Nina Tucker's death. I know he is, but there's nothing he can do.
I step into full view, and Alphonse calls his brother's name softly.
You said you were strong, didn't you, Ed? Where did your strength go because I can't see it right now. I didn't suggest that you go into the military to die bringing someone back to life again, or to cry over death. Look at me and stop crying!
And he turns around, and I see... fear in his eyes. It's unnatural, to see the pupils dialated in the dark, and his hands try to shield his face. Edward usually isn't like that.
But I lash out, and I grab hold of his arm, and he lets out something akin to an outcry. The tears running down his face blend in with the rain, and there is blood of his gloves. Nina and Tucker's blood... and it's saddening... but I cannot show that I pity him. He bites his lip as I pull his arm off to the side, out of reach from his other hand.
No, Edward, you can't alchemize me into the alley wall, it just won't happen tonight. Or ever for that matter.
I verbally beat him with words that are as cold as the rain that pours over our heads, and he listens as best he can without letting those tears fall down his face. You're not a little kid anymore, Edward... grow the fuck up... His eyes plead with me as I speak. And they say one thing...
'It's hard to grow up...'
He struggles to pull away, but I won't let him go just yet. I say a few more harsh sentences to beat the message that he can't break down like this ever again hard into his head.
And it is then when I loosen my tight grip on his wrist...
And he runs, I can see his red jacket clinging to his small frame as he heads down the streets with Alphonse soon following behind.
Riza is looking at me...
She's looking at me with those 'hawk' eyes and I think I should just walk home instead of riding in the cab. She might shoot me if I step one foot in there.
When I run into Edward the next day, I put my hand on his should and whisper gently to him... "The rain will stop soon, you just have to wait a little while longer, okay?"
Golden eyes look up at me, curious, but he manages to nod, and yet, run off again.
Oh well... he'll come back, so I won't worry.
Author: Lain Blackchurch
Rating: G - PG
Genre: Gen (no romance)
Characters: Roy and Edward from Riza's PoV
Spoilers: Manga spoilers for Vol. 2 of FMA
Summary: Is that how you treat a child? Hit them and let them cry themselves to sleep?
Sometimes she sees him sitting out there, trying to coax Edward Elric inside of the building again. The rain falls, and she can watch Roy Mustang, Colonel and esteemed alchemist, rise to his feet and deliver a hard blow to the younger child’s head. The First Lieutenant can hear him say a few poisonous words.
“Stop living in the past, Fullmetal! It’s not worth catching pneumonia over.”
She can't stand to see a child be struck like such, and usually such a clout would make some unlucky boy or girl Edward’s age, a tender twelve years, bawl his or her eyes out from the pain, begging for exculpation.
But not Edward.
He would stand as well, hands at his side, finally clutching into white balls of fabric, flesh, and for his right arm, metal. Lashing out was only one way that Edward could tolerate pain that was brought back. When Riza watched from the window, as Edward nearly made contact with his superior’s jawbone, his hand was caught in mid-swing, and thrust down.
“Can’t you just leave me alone?”
That was what the younger boy would say. He would want solitude to wonder, whether the forecast called for rain, sleet, sun, or snow.
“No, Fullmetal, I’m afraid that I cannot.”
The Colonel would pull Edward into a tight hold against his chest, and she could see the faint breaths that Edward took as he cried against the Flame Alchemist’s jacket.
She had never seen so many tears in all of her life.
And if she had, they had never been from Fullmetal.
Sometimes their embrace would last for what seemed like hours on end; with Mustang holding the child with such a fierce grasp that Riza wondered if Edward was able to breathe through the heavy chino material and coat.
And speaking of the coat…
Sometimes the Colonel would remove it from his own shoulders, when Fullmetal was heaving dryly, and he would casually settle his hands upon the younger boy’s back, smoothing out the material of the navy blue coat.
“Let’s go back.”
Flame would say, lifting Edward from the knees and the back, and holding him tightly against his chest, carrying him inside, past Riza, and into the child’s dorm. She would look down and see the puddles that both boots left, Edward’s from being suspended and Roy’s from tapping against the floor.
Once she had poked her head into Edward’s room, and watched quietly and Mustang held Ed against his chest once more and dried the child’s hair with a towel, then laying him upon the bed. “Sir?” she had asked.
“Yes, Hawkeye?” he returned softly, back still turned and eyes still focusing on Edward as he wrung the towel within his strong grasp.
“Is that how you treat a child? Hit them and let them cry themselves to sleep?” Her heart pounded as loud as thunder within her breast. She shouldn’t be contradicting him in such a way, yet she needed to know.
What was his motive for such treatment?
“You need to tell them to stand alone, and--”
“And that poor boy doesn’t do that enough?”
“You need to let them learn how and when to ask for a shoulder to cry on.” He finished, looking at the bed and smiling. “I’ll watch him for the night. You go.”
It was then that Roy Mustang appeared to be more than to whom she served for.
He was a man…
A man with a father-like demeanor.
He was a vigilante.