Fic - Letting Go - FMA
Jul. 10th, 2006 11:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cornerofmadnessLetting Go
DM Evans
Disclaimer - not mine, all characters belong to Hiromu Arakawa et al, Square Enix and funimition. I don’t make a profit
Pairing - None really, Roy centric, implied Maes/Gracia
Time Line - Set in ch 16 of the manga (i.e after episode 25 of the anime)
Summary - They’re just not ready to let go yet
Author’s Note - Written for the Fullservicefma July challenge. The prompt is uniform. Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
evil_little_dog & mjules for the beta.
Roy didn’t know why he had agreed to this. He wasn’t ready and it was simply too hard. Still, he couldn’t leave this to Gracia. When she had talked him into having dinner the other night, he could see how the prospect of this task weighed on her. Roy couldn’t allow poor Gracia to shoulder the burden. He was supposed to be the brave one.
Only he wasn’t brave, not about this. It was wrong; he didn’t belong here. Roy shouldn’t be doing this. He was making it all final. As soon as he opened the blanket chest to remove Maes’ winter clothing, it would all be over. Once he boxed everything for charity, his friend would truly be gone.
Before he dared those extremely personal items, Roy decided to bolster his bravery by packing away Maes’ uniforms. Those were less personal, just some blue wool and white cotton, each one looked pretty much the same. He’d return them to the base for destruction as was protocol. He’d have to take off any ribbons and medals, those were Gracia’s to keep. Soon enough she’d receive one of the highest honors that could be given to a soldier - Hughes’ medal of honor - and he’d probably be the one to confer it posthumously to her. Roy didn’t look forward to that day.
Roy just grabbed the uniforms out of the closet en masse and tossed them onto the bed. Hangers slithered free of some of them, clacking woodenly as they hit floor. He scooped them back up and returned them to the closet before sitting on the bed to go through each uniform just in case something had been left inside a pocket. Roy wasn’t expecting to find much. Though his friend had always gone well armed with his arsenal of photos, Maes certainly would have been diligent about removing his treasures before sending the uniforms to be cleaned. Even the most important ribbons would have been on the uniform Maes had died in and Roy had no idea if Gracia had him buried with them and his medals or not.
As his fingers worked the detachable bits from the first uniform, Roy froze. He was certain a fist had found his gut, leaving him breathless. He couldn’t understand for a moment why it hit him so hard. It was just a uniform like the ones he wore every day, like the one he allowed Fullmetal to get away with not wearing since it was to his advantage to blend in, like the one Roy expected to be buried in himself one day. Only it wasn’t just any uniform, it belonged to a man who had changed his life in ways Roy hadn’t expected.
Memories of the academy bubbled up, some sweet, some painful, each feeling like a cage his heart couldn’t beat against. Roy had been so ill-prepared for the academy. He had grown up in back water towns, which might be why he disdained them now. As a child, his grandfather had insisted on him being clothed in fashions from a home land his widowed mother hadn’t even seen; loose, open clothing that gave way in later years to rough and tumble clothing that he wore on Hawkeye’s estate. Roy hadn’t adapted well to the academy uniform, hating the tightness of the collars. To this day, he still tugged on his collar, trying to get that extra hairbreadth of room around his neck.
He had been a social disaster, barely able to figure out the intricacies of the uniform much less personal interactions. Roy had been unable to make friends since he was far more interested in continuing his alchemic studies than anything else. Yes, Roy thought the military was his path to truly being ‘for the people’ and helping his country, foolish boy, but he didn’t quite fit in. No one wanted to be around an alchemist. They were afraid of him and Hawkeye had cut him off for turning to the military so he couldn’t really go home. Roy had been more alone at the academy than he could ever remember and he had spent most of his life in a solitary fashion or with adult teachers.
Then just a few months into his training, one of the boys from basic strategic planning cornered him in the library, simply sat down and started talking to him. At first Roy had no idea why this kid sought him out or why he wouldn’t shut up. It would be years before Maes confessed that he had heard some of the upper classman talking about what they were going to do to the new freak cadet and stepped in before the hazing could begin.
Roy was glad he hadn’t known that at the time. He would have been offended if he had known Hughes thought he needed a guardian. At the time, Roy had simply been bemused but intrigued by the gawky, bespectacled young man. Hughes had been unlike anyone Roy had ever known. Maes liked to laugh, so carefree and yet when the time came, he could be deadly serious and sharp as a knife. Roy hadn’t ever known anyone to laugh so much. Grandfather laughed hardly at all; neither had Teacher but Hughes always found something to chuckle about.
Even without realizing it, they had slipped into such an easy friendship. Roy had missed Hughes acutely when they graduated, and while it hurt him to see Maes pop up in Ishbal, Roy was glad he was there with him. More importantly, Roy knew he wouldn’t have survived the emotional aftermath of the war if not for his friend. Riza’s quiet love and devotion might not have been enough because she had the same somberness that ruled Roy’s life. He needed Hughes’ laughter.
The military might have kept them separate over the years but the bonds of friendship simply stretched to meet their needs. As much as he bitched about Hughes’ frivolous phone calls, Roy missed them when they didn’t come. His last words to his best friend were to snap at him about how he didn’t want to hear more about Hughes’ family, then came the awful muffled sounds of gun fire and the nothingness.
Roy hadn’t even realized he was crying, Maes’ uniform crumpled in his lap, until he felt Gracia’s hand on his shoulder. He flinched as her arms went around him, her light body barely making a dent on the mattress as she sat beside him. Roy wiped his eyes. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right, Roy. He was your best friend,” she said softly.
He was one of my only friends, Roy thought and it hurt to know that was true. He didn’t make friends easily and even if he could, the word ‘alchemist’ would scare off most people. After Ishbal, no one trusted them and he didn’t blame them. Roy put his arms around Gracia and he kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry, Gracia. I keep failing everyone.”
Gracia smoothed the hair off his face. “I don’t understand what you mean, Roy.”
“I promised you I’d find out who did this to you and Elicia,” he faltered. Who did this to me.
“And you will, Roy. I know that but it’ll take time...and I’m afraid for you, you know that right?” Gracia took his hand and Roy looked away. “You told me what you’re up against. I know Maes was afraid because of something inside the military and now you’re following in his footsteps. I don’t want you to die, too.”
“I won’t,” he said somehow sure of it, no matter how stupid that was. “And the people who did this will suffer.” Roy shuddered at the sounds of grim determination in his own voice. Gracia’s green eyes went huge and he knew she understood what he meant. He would turn whoever had killed Hughes into so much ash and brittle bone. Roy looked back at the uniforms. “Sorry, Gracia, I’ll get these out of here. You don’t need to deal with any of this.”
Gracia squeezed the hand she held. “Roy, it’s all right. If you’re not up to it, I can do this.”
“No, I’m fine, Gracia,” Roy lied. His eyes stung, feeling swollen. He felt like a failure because he couldn’t find Maes’ killer, or even the whole reason his friend died. Roy couldn’t even pack up the man’s uniforms. He glanced over at the blanket chest.
“The photo albums are in there, too,” she whispered then sobbed loudly.
Roy held her tight while her pain spilled out all over him. His tears mixed with hers as memories swallowed them alive. In the end, only the uniforms ended up in the box. Neither of them could brave the chest. It was just too soon to let go.
DM Evans
Disclaimer - not mine, all characters belong to Hiromu Arakawa et al, Square Enix and funimition. I don’t make a profit
Pairing - None really, Roy centric, implied Maes/Gracia
Time Line - Set in ch 16 of the manga (i.e after episode 25 of the anime)
Summary - They’re just not ready to let go yet
Author’s Note - Written for the Fullservicefma July challenge. The prompt is uniform. Thanks to
evil_little_dog & mjules for the beta.Roy didn’t know why he had agreed to this. He wasn’t ready and it was simply too hard. Still, he couldn’t leave this to Gracia. When she had talked him into having dinner the other night, he could see how the prospect of this task weighed on her. Roy couldn’t allow poor Gracia to shoulder the burden. He was supposed to be the brave one.
Only he wasn’t brave, not about this. It was wrong; he didn’t belong here. Roy shouldn’t be doing this. He was making it all final. As soon as he opened the blanket chest to remove Maes’ winter clothing, it would all be over. Once he boxed everything for charity, his friend would truly be gone.
Before he dared those extremely personal items, Roy decided to bolster his bravery by packing away Maes’ uniforms. Those were less personal, just some blue wool and white cotton, each one looked pretty much the same. He’d return them to the base for destruction as was protocol. He’d have to take off any ribbons and medals, those were Gracia’s to keep. Soon enough she’d receive one of the highest honors that could be given to a soldier - Hughes’ medal of honor - and he’d probably be the one to confer it posthumously to her. Roy didn’t look forward to that day.
Roy just grabbed the uniforms out of the closet en masse and tossed them onto the bed. Hangers slithered free of some of them, clacking woodenly as they hit floor. He scooped them back up and returned them to the closet before sitting on the bed to go through each uniform just in case something had been left inside a pocket. Roy wasn’t expecting to find much. Though his friend had always gone well armed with his arsenal of photos, Maes certainly would have been diligent about removing his treasures before sending the uniforms to be cleaned. Even the most important ribbons would have been on the uniform Maes had died in and Roy had no idea if Gracia had him buried with them and his medals or not.
As his fingers worked the detachable bits from the first uniform, Roy froze. He was certain a fist had found his gut, leaving him breathless. He couldn’t understand for a moment why it hit him so hard. It was just a uniform like the ones he wore every day, like the one he allowed Fullmetal to get away with not wearing since it was to his advantage to blend in, like the one Roy expected to be buried in himself one day. Only it wasn’t just any uniform, it belonged to a man who had changed his life in ways Roy hadn’t expected.
Memories of the academy bubbled up, some sweet, some painful, each feeling like a cage his heart couldn’t beat against. Roy had been so ill-prepared for the academy. He had grown up in back water towns, which might be why he disdained them now. As a child, his grandfather had insisted on him being clothed in fashions from a home land his widowed mother hadn’t even seen; loose, open clothing that gave way in later years to rough and tumble clothing that he wore on Hawkeye’s estate. Roy hadn’t adapted well to the academy uniform, hating the tightness of the collars. To this day, he still tugged on his collar, trying to get that extra hairbreadth of room around his neck.
He had been a social disaster, barely able to figure out the intricacies of the uniform much less personal interactions. Roy had been unable to make friends since he was far more interested in continuing his alchemic studies than anything else. Yes, Roy thought the military was his path to truly being ‘for the people’ and helping his country, foolish boy, but he didn’t quite fit in. No one wanted to be around an alchemist. They were afraid of him and Hawkeye had cut him off for turning to the military so he couldn’t really go home. Roy had been more alone at the academy than he could ever remember and he had spent most of his life in a solitary fashion or with adult teachers.
Then just a few months into his training, one of the boys from basic strategic planning cornered him in the library, simply sat down and started talking to him. At first Roy had no idea why this kid sought him out or why he wouldn’t shut up. It would be years before Maes confessed that he had heard some of the upper classman talking about what they were going to do to the new freak cadet and stepped in before the hazing could begin.
Roy was glad he hadn’t known that at the time. He would have been offended if he had known Hughes thought he needed a guardian. At the time, Roy had simply been bemused but intrigued by the gawky, bespectacled young man. Hughes had been unlike anyone Roy had ever known. Maes liked to laugh, so carefree and yet when the time came, he could be deadly serious and sharp as a knife. Roy hadn’t ever known anyone to laugh so much. Grandfather laughed hardly at all; neither had Teacher but Hughes always found something to chuckle about.
Even without realizing it, they had slipped into such an easy friendship. Roy had missed Hughes acutely when they graduated, and while it hurt him to see Maes pop up in Ishbal, Roy was glad he was there with him. More importantly, Roy knew he wouldn’t have survived the emotional aftermath of the war if not for his friend. Riza’s quiet love and devotion might not have been enough because she had the same somberness that ruled Roy’s life. He needed Hughes’ laughter.
The military might have kept them separate over the years but the bonds of friendship simply stretched to meet their needs. As much as he bitched about Hughes’ frivolous phone calls, Roy missed them when they didn’t come. His last words to his best friend were to snap at him about how he didn’t want to hear more about Hughes’ family, then came the awful muffled sounds of gun fire and the nothingness.
Roy hadn’t even realized he was crying, Maes’ uniform crumpled in his lap, until he felt Gracia’s hand on his shoulder. He flinched as her arms went around him, her light body barely making a dent on the mattress as she sat beside him. Roy wiped his eyes. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right, Roy. He was your best friend,” she said softly.
He was one of my only friends, Roy thought and it hurt to know that was true. He didn’t make friends easily and even if he could, the word ‘alchemist’ would scare off most people. After Ishbal, no one trusted them and he didn’t blame them. Roy put his arms around Gracia and he kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry, Gracia. I keep failing everyone.”
Gracia smoothed the hair off his face. “I don’t understand what you mean, Roy.”
“I promised you I’d find out who did this to you and Elicia,” he faltered. Who did this to me.
“And you will, Roy. I know that but it’ll take time...and I’m afraid for you, you know that right?” Gracia took his hand and Roy looked away. “You told me what you’re up against. I know Maes was afraid because of something inside the military and now you’re following in his footsteps. I don’t want you to die, too.”
“I won’t,” he said somehow sure of it, no matter how stupid that was. “And the people who did this will suffer.” Roy shuddered at the sounds of grim determination in his own voice. Gracia’s green eyes went huge and he knew she understood what he meant. He would turn whoever had killed Hughes into so much ash and brittle bone. Roy looked back at the uniforms. “Sorry, Gracia, I’ll get these out of here. You don’t need to deal with any of this.”
Gracia squeezed the hand she held. “Roy, it’s all right. If you’re not up to it, I can do this.”
“No, I’m fine, Gracia,” Roy lied. His eyes stung, feeling swollen. He felt like a failure because he couldn’t find Maes’ killer, or even the whole reason his friend died. Roy couldn’t even pack up the man’s uniforms. He glanced over at the blanket chest.
“The photo albums are in there, too,” she whispered then sobbed loudly.
Roy held her tight while her pain spilled out all over him. His tears mixed with hers as memories swallowed them alive. In the end, only the uniforms ended up in the box. Neither of them could brave the chest. It was just too soon to let go.
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 04:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 04:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 04:19 am (UTC)This was my favourite paragraph:
"The military might have kept them separate over the years but the bonds of friendship simply stretched to meet their needs. As much as he bitched about Hughes’ frivolous phone calls, Roy missed them when they didn’t come. His last words to his best friend were to snap at him about how he didn’t want to hear more about Hughes’ family, then came the awful muffled sounds of gun fire and the nothingness."
I can imagine Mustang sitting in his office, just looking at the phone and willing it to ring, for him to pick it up an hear Hughes on the other line, telling him it had all been a mistake or something.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 04:27 am (UTC)I can imagine Mustang sitting in his office, just looking at the phone and willing it to ring, for him to pick it up an hear Hughes on the other line, telling him it had all been a mistake or something. That is such a lovely image
no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 08:28 pm (UTC)Feel free to withold your decision until you can see what sort of company your fic would be in.
I would love to have you!
no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 09:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 05:14 am (UTC)I'm not lying, you made me cry. I've had to do this with a friend, helping him deal with his wife's untimely death, and you described the emotions and flooding memories with realism.
Beautiful job. This is going in my memories.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 02:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 05:25 am (UTC)*BAWLS*
So... touching (and I'm completely unable to say any more, sorry)
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Date: 2006-07-11 02:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-11 11:19 am (UTC)no subject
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