Cries of the Broken
People said that he was obsessed with his daughter. Ok, sure, he loved his daughter and his wife more than anything in the world, and he would do anything for them. But obsessed? Not so much...maybe.
He took a lot of pictures for the sole purpose of keeping memories alive, as it was a well known fact that such things were easily forgotten. He didn't think that he took too many of them, just enough so that it was an efficient and reliable memory. But still, he was not obsessed by any means. As for shoving said photos in everyone's face, well, who could possibly deny that she was the cutest little thing ever?
He also had a knack for acquiring amazing amounts of dangerous information, which he knew could get him into trouble, but his loyalties to his friends got in the way of personal value . One such loyalty was to his longtime friend, Colonel Roy Mustang.
He had never seen the Ishbal conflict. He had heard all the rumors and tales, but he had a desk job, so there had been no need to deploy him. He could have volunteered, sure, but at that time, he was dating Gracia, and he saw no need to throw his life away for something he didn't quite understand. He was glad he hadn't gone.
When Roy had come back from the war, the military victorious after long years of fighting, he saw something in his friend's eyes he never thought he would see. It was such a haunted look, one that plead for either salvation from the terror, or death.
The night that he had come home, Maes had welcomed him into his house with open arms, but saw nothing in his friend other than a scared animal, backed into a corner, and ready to fight for its life. His nerves were as frayed as his hair, and Maes had to repeatedly calm him down so that his house wasn't burnt to the ground. Roy had refused to remove his gloves, and threatened to snap each time Maes tried to coax them off. When he tried to ask his friend what was wrong, he only shook his head and mumbled something to himself.
That night, Maes had made a nice dinner, and had brought out the good wine. He wanted Roy to be as comfortable as possible, in the hopes that he would calm down. He had sat Roy in the living room upon the couch and gave him a book to read and left the radio on his friend's favorite station while he busied himself with the food. The smell of steak was drifting into the air when Maes felt someone staring intently at him. He turned and saw Roy standing at the threshold of the kitchen, a lost and almost fearful look upon his face. Maes smiled and turned from the food for a minute to address him.
"What's wrong, Roy?" Maes asked, taking a small step towards him, hands in clear view of the tense man, to show that he held nothing that could pose a threat to him.
Roy shook his head and mumbled something, a bead of sweat dripping down his brow and trailing down his cheeks.
"What's wrong?" he repeated, taking a few more small steps towards him.
"Don't leave me alone," Roy said finally, staring at the floor as though ashamed of the request.
The amber hues of the usually carefree man widened when he heard this, and finally, after a moment or two of staring at his longtime friend, his eyes narrowed again and he smiled warmly.
"Sure. Come on. Come sit at the table while I finish up dinner. How's that sound? I'll be right in the room with you, ok?" he asked, closing the distance between them and placing an arm around the man's shoulder. He did this slowly and deliberately, speaking the last of his invitation as he did so, so that Roy's eyes would follow his movements in an effort to clearly hear his voice, and thus see the movement. When he finally got his arm around him, Roy tensed only a little, and relaxed much more quickly.
"Y-yes," Roy replied.
"Alright then," Maes said with a forced light-heartedness.
He led Roy to the table and pulled out a chair and helped him to sit, and, before returning to the sizzling meal, set a glass of wine in front of the stiff man. Then he turned and went back to the food, just in time to prevent it from burning. Within a few more minutes, it was all done, and the delicious smell wafted through the air of the small house. He placed a plate in front of Roy and one in front a chair next to him, followed by a glass of wine. He took to occupying this seat and smiled as his friend turned in his chair to face the source of the aroma that filled the kitchen.
"Ok, Roy! Dinner is served!" Maes announced grandly, after which he began to eat.
For a long moment, Roy just stared at the plate in front of him, as though he didn't believe that it was actually there. Finally, he lifted his fork and began to eat mechanically, staring into the plate blankly as he did so, and never stopping to drink from the glass of wine also in front of him. Both men finished at relatively the same time and when he was done, Maes took a long drink from his glass and sighed happily.
"Not bad! That's gotta be one of the best meals I've cooked in a long time!" he exclaimed, emphasizing this statement by gleefully placing his hands on his stomach.
When he glanced to Roy for a reply, he found him sipping quietly from his glass, and then watched in amazement as the tormented man downed the remainder in a single gulp.
Afterwards, the two retired to the living room, where they sat on the couch and Maes bragged about his girlfriend. He told his friend stories about what he had done in the months that Roy was away, and when he finished, he saw that the man was merely looking at him intently, as though he were looking into him to find the answer to something.
"What is it, Roy? What's wrong? What did Ishbal do to you?" Maes asked, starting to panic a little.
Roy looked away, his expression turning from lost and fearful to deeply troubled, his face contorting almost grotesquely with pain. In an effort to comfort him, Maes put a hand around his friend's shoulder, and rested his chin on Roy's shoulder. He tensed, and almost raised his gloved hand to snap, but Maes put a calming hand upon it, muttering a quiet 'no.' Roy slowly lowered his hand back to his lap, Maes' hand following it, and, in a whisper, Maes asked him to remove his gloves.
"I...I can't," Roy muttered fearfully. "What if we're attacked?"
"We're not going to be attacked," Maes assured him quietly. "You're home. You're not in Ishbal anymore. There's no one here who is going to attack us. Trust me."
After a long moment of hesitation, Roy removed his gloves in a painstakingly slow manner. He set them on the table in front of him, and sighed deeply.
"See? It's ok, really. Now that you're home, you don't have to worry about that anymore. No one is going to attack us; everything is going to be ok now. I promise."
"It won't be ok. It can't ever be ok," Roy shot back hatefully.
"And why not?" Maes asked quietly. "Why won't it be ok?"
Roy didn't answer. He shook his head and then lowered it, as though he were bowing to a superior in the Feudal era. When Maes pulled away a little to regard his friend with a concerned look, Roy threw himself into his friend's chest, clutching his shirt and shuddering fiercely. Maes gasped and stared at his back for a moment, and then placed his arms gently on his back, shutting his eyes.
It wasn't fair! He felt so damn helpless! He felt like he could do nothing for his friend, and it made him want to scream. He didn't know what he could do for him, and not being able to have the answers for him, not being able to console him...no! He couldn't accept that! He had to do...something, anything! But what could he possibly do? He couldn't stand this feeling, always feeling so useless when he was needed most. Why? Why was he so damn useless!
Containing this self anger well, with his voice only shaking a little, he ran his fingers lightly through Roy's hair, trying to cover his shuddering form.
"Roy, please, let me help you. I want so badly to help you, but I can't do that if you don't let me."
Roy shook his head for a while, unable to speak of the horrible sins he had committed. Maes was okay with that. He merely kept stroking his friend's hair and rocking a little, wanting Roy to calm down for just that moment.
A long period of time passed before anything happened. Maes guessed that he had sat there for about a half hour with Roy clutching his shirt and shuddering as though plagued by Antarctic frigidness. He was patient though, and more than happy to be sitting there with his friend. He was doing something at least. Finally, Roy's body jolted as a myriad of sobs escaped from the broken man. It caused Maes to gasp and tighten his grip on his friend, and at first, all he heard was mumbling, frantic mumbling, and then they exploded in a fear-filled scream, as though admitting this would bring on the wrath of every God from every culture.
"There were so many innocent people, Maes," claimed one of the cries from the sobbing man. "I killed them all. Not one by one. Not with a gun, or any tactical way. Just burnt them all. The all died. A lot of them in their sleep. Men, women, children, elderly people...everyone!"
"You were at war, Roy!" Maes said, his voice becoming desperate. He became fearful that Roy's very spirit would shatter in his arms right there, and he too, now, was crying, crying for his friend.
"I couldn't deal with it," Roy said, ignoring Maes' plea. "I...I couldn't...the gun...I had it...it was loaded and I had it right up to my head. But I was too selfish. I couldn't even take my own life! I was too much of a damned coward to do it!"
"And who wouldn't be!" Maes demanded, shaking Roy fiercely. "Any reasonable and sane man would be! And I'm glad you didn't pull the trigger! Who would I have then, if you had, huh? Who? I'd be alone. Sure, I'd have Gracia, but the fact of the matter is, is that you are the most important person to me, Roy! I know I can trust you, and I do! I do with my very life!"
After a long time, Roy's shouts, screams and gut-wrenching sobs were quieted to whispers and small cries. Slowly, the torn man raised his bloodshot obsidian eyes to Maes and looked at him with a frightened expression, as though he were afraid of being scolded or reprimanded for his actions. Maes only hugged him tighter.
"...Thank you...Maes," Roy said finally.
"No, Roy. Thank you," Maes said, his own tears drying up, and becoming nothing more than a dull trail down his cheeks, and a memory or his sorrow.
Ok, so this was...going to go in with Scattered, but I decided I wanted it alone. it's something I was working on separately on my bishie's computer, and then I didn't finish and he sent it to me and then it sat there for a few months. And...then I picked it up again and finished it, per the design that my emotions drove it to take. So...I hope you enjoyed it. Please review so I can know what you thought!