Jordanna Morgan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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prose_alchemist2013-06-02 10:11 pm
jordannamorgan) wrote in prose_alchemist2013-06-02 10:11 pm
Fullmetal Alchemist: Chasm (Epilogue)
Title: Chasm (Epilogue)
Author:jordannamorgan
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: Mild PG for fantasy violence and desperate situations.
Characters: Hughes, Alphonse, Edward, Mustang, Scar.
Setting: First anime. These events take place sometime after my story “Roughing It”, in which Hughes learned the truth about the Elrics’ past. In terms of where it fits within canon events, I leave that up to the reader.
Summary: During a manhunt for Scar, Hughes and Alphonse become trapped and endangered, leading Al to make a grave request.
Disclaimer: They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m just playing with them.
The unmistakable antiseptic smell was the first thing to tell Maes he was waking up in a hospital room. Before any other thoughts came, he let out a groan of protest on principle, and tried to move; but a strong hand caught his left wrist.
“Easy, Maes. You’ll pull the I.V. out.”
Roy’s voice. Maes blinked his eyes open. He was still missing his glasses, but he could make out his friend leaning over him, studying his face with what looked to be thoughtful satisfaction. At the very least, there seemed to be the faintest trace of a smile on Roy’s lips.
“Al?” Maes whispered hoarsely, his throat still dry and scratched from the dirt he had swallowed during the ordeal.
To his joy, what preceded the answer was definitely a smile.
“He’s alright. Just a little shaken up.” Roy gave Maes a light pat on the shoulder. “You’re going to be fine too. Gracia is on her way here to take you back home. You should be fit to be released by the time she arrives.”
Now that he knew Al was safe, Maes took the time to glance himself over briefly. The long, deep laceration on his right arm was bandaged, and he could easily presume his right leg had been wrapped as well, although it was obscured from view under the blankets. A drip of clear liquid was being fed intravenously into his uninjured arm. Most likely warm fluid to treat his hypothermia—and perhaps some pain medication as well, because he now felt only a faint dull ache from his wounds.
“Tell me you got Scar,” he muttered, thinking of Dyson and Voss.
Roy abruptly sobered, looking away.
“…I’m afraid I can’t, Maes.” He clenched his fists on the edge of the hospital bed. “Scar escaped again. All we have to show for this fiasco is five deaths—including the two men who were with you and Al. We recovered their bodies half an hour ago.”
Although Maes had already known their fate, the words refreshed his anger. He closed his eyes and swore quietly.
“It could have been worse,” Roy said. His voice was solemn, but underneath, Maes sensed a note of strain that was not quite like anything he had heard from his friend before. “I saw the mark of the waterline inside Al’s armor. If Ed and I had reached you only a minute later… Al might very well have died.”
Maes’ heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He found it suddenly impossible to meet Roy’s gaze—or to say what had really almost happened.
If you and Ed had been only a minute later, Al would have died… because I would have taken his life myself.
He was spared from having to find the words for that confession. A soft tap sounded against the closed door of the hospital room. When Roy called out for the visitor to enter, the door swung open—and beyond it stood Alphonse Elric.
Alphonse, fully intact and brightly polished, his armor apparently as good as new.
“Excuse me,” he whispered, addressing Roy, as he took a step into the room. “I just wanted to see how the Major was doing.”
Roy smiled. “You can see for yourself.” He gestured toward the bed—apparently prompting Al to realize that Maes was awake. Then, a bit too casually, he moved past Al and headed for the doorway. “I have some work to do. I’ll see you before you leave, Maes.”
The door shut behind the Colonel, and Maes was left alone with Al—struggling to face the boy through his guilt.
“How are you feeling?” Al asked in a soft voice, approaching the bed with slow movements to minimize his metallic clatter.
“Oh… not bad.” Maes tried to meet the glow of Al’s gaze. He did not quite succeed, and his eyes only passed over the gleaming smoothness of the armor instead. “What about you? …You look good,” he finished lamely.
Al proudly flexed his reattached right arm. “I’m just fine. Ed fixed my armor right up. It was easy for him—once he drained the water out of that hole, and found my missing pieces.” His voice took on an almost humorous note. “Cleaning all the dirt out of me was the hardest part.”
“…Good. I’m… I’m glad.”
For Maes if not for Al, the extended silence that followed was unbearably awkward. At last the Major sighed and squirmed under the blankets, pushing himself up against the pillows. Predictably, Al hurried to help him sit up—which only made him feel more guilty.
“Al.” He gripped the boy’s vambrace, disengaging leather fingers before they could attempt to fluff the pillow for him. “Listen. I—”
“Please, sir.” The voice that came from within Al’s cold steel was as gentle and warm as sunlight after rain. “You don’t need to say anything. I don’t want you to ever feel bad about—what could have happened.”
In the face of such complete forgiveness, Maes’ courage faltered completely. He looked away, closing his eyes. “I nearly killed you.”
“It was only because I asked you to. You promised, and you were ready to keep that promise—even though it would have hurt you so much to do it. I know that.” Al moved his arm under Maes’ hand, his gauntlet lightly gripping the Major’s wrist in turn. “It means a lot to me, sir. I won’t forget it.”
A lump tightened in Maes’ throat. He swallowed hard, and looked up at Al with a feeble smile… but before he could find the words to say, there was another knock at the door.
Although Maes’ voice was rough and weak from something more than his physical condition, he took the initiative this time. “Come in.”
The door opened… and at the threshold stood Edward Elric, his expression stiff and unreadable.
“Oh. Brother,” Al chirped, sounding just a little chagrined. “I know you didn’t want me to be gone long—but you can stop worrying about me now, you know. Or did you come to see how Mr. Hughes is doing?”
“…Yeah.” Ed approached slowly. When he came near, he rested his left hand on Al’s vambrace. It was a simple touch; yet it expressed volumes of unspoken emotion. “I mean—I wanted to talk to the Major. Al, would you… wait for me outside a few minutes?”
Al’s helmet tilted in sudden pensiveness. Then he nodded, and with a quiet reply of “Okay,” he retreated from the room.
Edward watched Al’s departure in silence. When the door had closed behind the younger Elric, only then did the elder turn to face Maes. His arms were wrapped around himself, his lips tight and pale, as he gazed at the Major from underneath his bangs… and Maes was suddenly filled with the sickening certainty that Ed knew what had happened in the pit.
…And this is where he tears my guts out through my throat for what I almost did to his brother.
“Major.” Ed’s voice was taut, but there was an almost imperceptible tremor in it. His words were short and somewhat halting. “Al told me. What happened. What he asked.”
It was impossible for Maes to give any answer for his guilt. Not with those intent, burning golden eyes fixed on him that way. He could only stare back, stricken with condemnation, feeling sick to his stomach.
Ed stepped closer. His chin tipped downward, and he stared at the floor, his eyes hidden behind his hair.
“I just wanted to say… thank you.”
Maes’ breath caught. He stared at Ed’s downcast face, convinced he was having some kind of auditory hallucination.
“What?”
“He was scared it would hurt.” Edward still did not look up; but if his expression matched the suddenly, painfully young-sounding quiver in his voice, Maes was not sorry it was hidden, for he was sure it would be more than his fatherly heart could bear. “If I couldn’t have reached him in time… I’m glad you were with him. Glad you were willing to… to do that for him. That you wouldn’t—wouldn’t have let him hurt…”
What remained of the teenager’s willfully hardened poise crumbled altogether then. He raised his gloved hands to cover his face, and his shoulders trembled with silent tears.
The Major’s heart twisted. Barely mindful of the I.V. tube attached to his forearm, he stretched out his left hand, cupping it around Ed’s metal shoulder to pull him closer to the bed.
Unresisting, Ed crumpled brokenly onto the bedside chair. He leaned against the edge of the thin hospital mattress and buried his face in his arms, as his own pent-up emotions quietly released themselves in salty moisture.
Some of it Maes could guess. The lingering residue of Ed’s fear from not knowing what had happened to Al, and horror from the thoughts of what he now knew almost had. Guilt from sending him off with Maes’ team alone, not being there to protect him…
And in the midst of all that, instead of anger, somehow there was gratitude for the fact that Maes could have contemplated the unthinkable.
Maes wiped the dampness from his own eyes. His hand settled between Ed’s shoulders, gently rubbing his back. They sat that way for a long time, as Maes searched for the words to express what he wanted to say.
Come home with Gracia and I. Let us take care of you and Al.
“…Ed?”
There was no response. Ed’s breaths had grown deeper and softer. Maes brushed back the fringe of blond hair from his face, and saw that he had lapsed into a gentle, exhausted sleep.
A sad smile passed over Maes’ lips. Letting his hand continue to rest on Ed’s back, he closed his eyes, and wished the boy’s dreams, at least, would be happy ones.
When Alphonse peeked into the room a short time later, the only sound to be heard was quiet snoring.
© 2013 Jordanna Morgan
CHAPTERS: I. - II. - III. - IV. - Epilogue
Author:
jordannamorganArchive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: Mild PG for fantasy violence and desperate situations.
Characters: Hughes, Alphonse, Edward, Mustang, Scar.
Setting: First anime. These events take place sometime after my story “Roughing It”, in which Hughes learned the truth about the Elrics’ past. In terms of where it fits within canon events, I leave that up to the reader.
Summary: During a manhunt for Scar, Hughes and Alphonse become trapped and endangered, leading Al to make a grave request.
Disclaimer: They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m just playing with them.
The unmistakable antiseptic smell was the first thing to tell Maes he was waking up in a hospital room. Before any other thoughts came, he let out a groan of protest on principle, and tried to move; but a strong hand caught his left wrist.
“Easy, Maes. You’ll pull the I.V. out.”
Roy’s voice. Maes blinked his eyes open. He was still missing his glasses, but he could make out his friend leaning over him, studying his face with what looked to be thoughtful satisfaction. At the very least, there seemed to be the faintest trace of a smile on Roy’s lips.
“Al?” Maes whispered hoarsely, his throat still dry and scratched from the dirt he had swallowed during the ordeal.
To his joy, what preceded the answer was definitely a smile.
“He’s alright. Just a little shaken up.” Roy gave Maes a light pat on the shoulder. “You’re going to be fine too. Gracia is on her way here to take you back home. You should be fit to be released by the time she arrives.”
Now that he knew Al was safe, Maes took the time to glance himself over briefly. The long, deep laceration on his right arm was bandaged, and he could easily presume his right leg had been wrapped as well, although it was obscured from view under the blankets. A drip of clear liquid was being fed intravenously into his uninjured arm. Most likely warm fluid to treat his hypothermia—and perhaps some pain medication as well, because he now felt only a faint dull ache from his wounds.
“Tell me you got Scar,” he muttered, thinking of Dyson and Voss.
Roy abruptly sobered, looking away.
“…I’m afraid I can’t, Maes.” He clenched his fists on the edge of the hospital bed. “Scar escaped again. All we have to show for this fiasco is five deaths—including the two men who were with you and Al. We recovered their bodies half an hour ago.”
Although Maes had already known their fate, the words refreshed his anger. He closed his eyes and swore quietly.
“It could have been worse,” Roy said. His voice was solemn, but underneath, Maes sensed a note of strain that was not quite like anything he had heard from his friend before. “I saw the mark of the waterline inside Al’s armor. If Ed and I had reached you only a minute later… Al might very well have died.”
Maes’ heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He found it suddenly impossible to meet Roy’s gaze—or to say what had really almost happened.
If you and Ed had been only a minute later, Al would have died… because I would have taken his life myself.
He was spared from having to find the words for that confession. A soft tap sounded against the closed door of the hospital room. When Roy called out for the visitor to enter, the door swung open—and beyond it stood Alphonse Elric.
Alphonse, fully intact and brightly polished, his armor apparently as good as new.
“Excuse me,” he whispered, addressing Roy, as he took a step into the room. “I just wanted to see how the Major was doing.”
Roy smiled. “You can see for yourself.” He gestured toward the bed—apparently prompting Al to realize that Maes was awake. Then, a bit too casually, he moved past Al and headed for the doorway. “I have some work to do. I’ll see you before you leave, Maes.”
The door shut behind the Colonel, and Maes was left alone with Al—struggling to face the boy through his guilt.
“How are you feeling?” Al asked in a soft voice, approaching the bed with slow movements to minimize his metallic clatter.
“Oh… not bad.” Maes tried to meet the glow of Al’s gaze. He did not quite succeed, and his eyes only passed over the gleaming smoothness of the armor instead. “What about you? …You look good,” he finished lamely.
Al proudly flexed his reattached right arm. “I’m just fine. Ed fixed my armor right up. It was easy for him—once he drained the water out of that hole, and found my missing pieces.” His voice took on an almost humorous note. “Cleaning all the dirt out of me was the hardest part.”
“…Good. I’m… I’m glad.”
For Maes if not for Al, the extended silence that followed was unbearably awkward. At last the Major sighed and squirmed under the blankets, pushing himself up against the pillows. Predictably, Al hurried to help him sit up—which only made him feel more guilty.
“Al.” He gripped the boy’s vambrace, disengaging leather fingers before they could attempt to fluff the pillow for him. “Listen. I—”
“Please, sir.” The voice that came from within Al’s cold steel was as gentle and warm as sunlight after rain. “You don’t need to say anything. I don’t want you to ever feel bad about—what could have happened.”
In the face of such complete forgiveness, Maes’ courage faltered completely. He looked away, closing his eyes. “I nearly killed you.”
“It was only because I asked you to. You promised, and you were ready to keep that promise—even though it would have hurt you so much to do it. I know that.” Al moved his arm under Maes’ hand, his gauntlet lightly gripping the Major’s wrist in turn. “It means a lot to me, sir. I won’t forget it.”
A lump tightened in Maes’ throat. He swallowed hard, and looked up at Al with a feeble smile… but before he could find the words to say, there was another knock at the door.
Although Maes’ voice was rough and weak from something more than his physical condition, he took the initiative this time. “Come in.”
The door opened… and at the threshold stood Edward Elric, his expression stiff and unreadable.
“Oh. Brother,” Al chirped, sounding just a little chagrined. “I know you didn’t want me to be gone long—but you can stop worrying about me now, you know. Or did you come to see how Mr. Hughes is doing?”
“…Yeah.” Ed approached slowly. When he came near, he rested his left hand on Al’s vambrace. It was a simple touch; yet it expressed volumes of unspoken emotion. “I mean—I wanted to talk to the Major. Al, would you… wait for me outside a few minutes?”
Al’s helmet tilted in sudden pensiveness. Then he nodded, and with a quiet reply of “Okay,” he retreated from the room.
Edward watched Al’s departure in silence. When the door had closed behind the younger Elric, only then did the elder turn to face Maes. His arms were wrapped around himself, his lips tight and pale, as he gazed at the Major from underneath his bangs… and Maes was suddenly filled with the sickening certainty that Ed knew what had happened in the pit.
…And this is where he tears my guts out through my throat for what I almost did to his brother.
“Major.” Ed’s voice was taut, but there was an almost imperceptible tremor in it. His words were short and somewhat halting. “Al told me. What happened. What he asked.”
It was impossible for Maes to give any answer for his guilt. Not with those intent, burning golden eyes fixed on him that way. He could only stare back, stricken with condemnation, feeling sick to his stomach.
Ed stepped closer. His chin tipped downward, and he stared at the floor, his eyes hidden behind his hair.
“I just wanted to say… thank you.”
Maes’ breath caught. He stared at Ed’s downcast face, convinced he was having some kind of auditory hallucination.
“What?”
“He was scared it would hurt.” Edward still did not look up; but if his expression matched the suddenly, painfully young-sounding quiver in his voice, Maes was not sorry it was hidden, for he was sure it would be more than his fatherly heart could bear. “If I couldn’t have reached him in time… I’m glad you were with him. Glad you were willing to… to do that for him. That you wouldn’t—wouldn’t have let him hurt…”
What remained of the teenager’s willfully hardened poise crumbled altogether then. He raised his gloved hands to cover his face, and his shoulders trembled with silent tears.
The Major’s heart twisted. Barely mindful of the I.V. tube attached to his forearm, he stretched out his left hand, cupping it around Ed’s metal shoulder to pull him closer to the bed.
Unresisting, Ed crumpled brokenly onto the bedside chair. He leaned against the edge of the thin hospital mattress and buried his face in his arms, as his own pent-up emotions quietly released themselves in salty moisture.
Some of it Maes could guess. The lingering residue of Ed’s fear from not knowing what had happened to Al, and horror from the thoughts of what he now knew almost had. Guilt from sending him off with Maes’ team alone, not being there to protect him…
And in the midst of all that, instead of anger, somehow there was gratitude for the fact that Maes could have contemplated the unthinkable.
Maes wiped the dampness from his own eyes. His hand settled between Ed’s shoulders, gently rubbing his back. They sat that way for a long time, as Maes searched for the words to express what he wanted to say.
Come home with Gracia and I. Let us take care of you and Al.
“…Ed?”
There was no response. Ed’s breaths had grown deeper and softer. Maes brushed back the fringe of blond hair from his face, and saw that he had lapsed into a gentle, exhausted sleep.
A sad smile passed over Maes’ lips. Letting his hand continue to rest on Ed’s back, he closed his eyes, and wished the boy’s dreams, at least, would be happy ones.
When Alphonse peeked into the room a short time later, the only sound to be heard was quiet snoring.
© 2013 Jordanna Morgan