Fullmetal Alchemist: Detachment
May. 12th, 2010 10:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jordannamorgan posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
prose_alchemistTitle: Detachment
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jordannamorgan
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: PG for blood.
Characters: Ed and Roy, with a quick glimpse of Al.
Setting: General.
Summary: Sometimes resentment makes a flimsy shield.
Disclaimer: They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m just playing with them.
Notes: This is a curiously veiled bit of parental!antagonistic Roy&Ed. It was written for the prompt word quiver at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fma_fic_contest.
Ed hadn’t seen so much blood since the failed transmutation.
It should have been a simple errand, calling on a troubled State Alchemist to repossess his license; but the man unexpectedly attacked. His transmuted blade caught Colonel Mustang off-guard before Ed could take him down.
Now the Colonel lay bleeding his life out in front of Ed, while Al had gone for help.
“You’re not dying on me—!”
Mustang was unresponsive, barely breathing, pulse erratic. Ed snarled in helpless frustration, pressing harder on the torn piece of his coat that staunched the wound.
“This is why I hate your guts. If I didn’t hate you, I might feel…”
Ed trailed off. He bowed his head, eyes closed, and felt himself begin shaking like a leaf.
“It’s hard enough being so scared of losing Al. I won’t feel like that about anybody else! If I did, I… I couldn’t take it when you do get yourself killed.”
He glanced up at Mustang’s ashen face… and was sure he saw the shadow of a familiar smirk.
At the same instant, he heard running footsteps and clattering metal. Al burst through the doorway, followed by a man and woman; unknown Good Samaritans who rushed to aid Colonel Mustang. They didn’t quite push Ed aside, but he backed away, torn between reluctance and relief.
Al gently gripped Ed’s shoulder. “The ambulance is coming. It’s gonna be okay.”
“…Yeah,” Ed murmured, staring down at his bloodstained gloves.
I don’t want to feel like this.
© 2010 Jordanna Morgan
Author:
jordannamorganArchive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: PG for blood.
Characters: Ed and Roy, with a quick glimpse of Al.
Setting: General.
Summary: Sometimes resentment makes a flimsy shield.
Disclaimer: They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m just playing with them.
Notes: This is a curiously veiled bit of parental!antagonistic Roy&Ed. It was written for the prompt word quiver at
fma_fic_contest.Ed hadn’t seen so much blood since the failed transmutation.
It should have been a simple errand, calling on a troubled State Alchemist to repossess his license; but the man unexpectedly attacked. His transmuted blade caught Colonel Mustang off-guard before Ed could take him down.
Now the Colonel lay bleeding his life out in front of Ed, while Al had gone for help.
“You’re not dying on me—!”
Mustang was unresponsive, barely breathing, pulse erratic. Ed snarled in helpless frustration, pressing harder on the torn piece of his coat that staunched the wound.
“This is why I hate your guts. If I didn’t hate you, I might feel…”
Ed trailed off. He bowed his head, eyes closed, and felt himself begin shaking like a leaf.
“It’s hard enough being so scared of losing Al. I won’t feel like that about anybody else! If I did, I… I couldn’t take it when you do get yourself killed.”
He glanced up at Mustang’s ashen face… and was sure he saw the shadow of a familiar smirk.
At the same instant, he heard running footsteps and clattering metal. Al burst through the doorway, followed by a man and woman; unknown Good Samaritans who rushed to aid Colonel Mustang. They didn’t quite push Ed aside, but he backed away, torn between reluctance and relief.
Al gently gripped Ed’s shoulder. “The ambulance is coming. It’s gonna be okay.”
“…Yeah,” Ed murmured, staring down at his bloodstained gloves.
I don’t want to feel like this.
© 2010 Jordanna Morgan