Ugh, I'm so sorry everyone! (shot) It's been forever and I sincerely apologize! However, not all is lost. This is a new fanfic I've decided to work on. I'll update 'Play' whenever I can. And no, this hasn't gone to my beta. I thought it'd be better if this was rough. Fullmetal Alchemist itself isn't mine, however, the character of Elizabeth Hartley is. Another thing, this has absolutely NO ROMANCE, so don't flame me saying 'omg edxoc ish teh suxxxorzzz'. Elizabeth is a doctor, and Edward is her patient. Nothing more. Reviews are um, greatly appreciated! Enjoy.
Stroke of Midnight
by Elphaba Crush
The Patient Journal of Dr. Elizabeth Hartley
Patient Number 026-B: Fullmetal Alchemist, Major Edward Elric
June 1st, 1927
It's been two days; two sessions each of my time with the Fullmetal Alchemist. He's a very brash young man, child-like. Whenever someone comments on his small stature he tends to get very testy and angry. He even tends to overexaggerate and fabricate what the person says, making the statement bigger than it already is. For example, I commented on how small he was for his age, a man of twenty-eight years. He immediately rambled on about why I was calling him a microscopic amoeba who couldn't see past a grain of sand. Though he contains the child-like qualities he never truly had when he was a child (such as ramblings over his height, his stubborn refusal to drink milk, and his tendency to play practical jokes on his superior officer, Roy Mustang), Edward also exhibits qualities that only an experienced old man could have--from his insights, to his philosophies, to his selfless urge to put everyone else above himself. He seems like a perfectly healthy individual, an engaging young man. When I asked him why he bothered to see me that first day he looked away, his face almost aging from the twenty-eight years to a fifty-year-old man. He spoke quietly, in a voice I'd never heard from any of my past patients, including the shaken war veterans. His voice shook, and I will never forget his words,
"Let's just say my inner demons have come to claim me, Dr. Hartley. At least," he grinned widely, though oddly, it didn't reach his eyes, "that's what my brother tells me," he said.
I remember the air in my office becoming cold, chilly, and not because of the open window. I remember pausing, staring directly into his eyes. I saw a grown man who'd experienced so much, had grown up far too fast, and if I looked deeper, right in the center of his irises, I'd see a child, huddled up in a ball of fear.
That's what drew me to my most complex patient.
He's hidden so much from others, from himself.
It's time he comes out of that shell.
