Author's note: First post! Ack, I'm so nervous! Just to be clear, Roy is blind in this.
He can't breathe.
The train station platform is a kaleidoscope of sensation; things to hear, and smell, and touch all around him.
He is numb to it all.
He is vaguely aware of people slipping past him with ease, like grains of sand sifting through his fingers-
The sand filtered through his fingers and piled in his lap. He dug his hands into the yellowish soil again, scrunching them closed as if trying to turn the sand trapped inside into rock.
"Major?" The skittish young cadets voice pierced through his skull like a blade. Instead of responding, he scrunched his eyes closed even tighter than his fists.
"Major are you alright?"
Alright? Of course he wasn't alright. What a foolish think to do; asking someone if they are alright when the two of you are standing in the depths of hell.
"Um..Major Mustang, sir, we need to report to the general soon and-"
"Then maybe the general should come out here and commit mass murder." Out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw the cadets round face go white.
"S-sir you haven't-major sir this isn't mass murder! It's a war!"
Roy smiled a cruel smile and slowly got up from his knees. "It's what ever you want to call it, Bryant. Just remember, no matter what name you give it, it will be the same thing. It won't bring back the people you killed if you try to cover up the sin with some fancy wording."
Bryant stared, dumbfounded. "Sir, we should really..get on with the assignment." he managed.
Roy sighed and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "Of course..let's go get this over with.." The major stuck both hands in his pockets and started walking almost casually away from the cadet."and Bryant?"
"Sir?"
"Cut it out with the sirs. Your getting on my nerves."
"Sir?"
And suddenly he is back on the platform, coat billowing around him, oceans of people moving past him in great waves. The everyday jumble of car horns and laughter and conversation blaring in his ears.
Their is a warm hand on his shoulder and the terrifying sound of metal against metal; their train is here. Like Charon's ferry, here to take them to them to the Underworld, he thought.
She is stepping forward, without hesitation, but he feels her hand trembling. She smiles back at him, but he is frozen to the ground.
"Colonel, it's time."
"Is it now?"
"Yes,"
She said she would willingly follow him into hell. But now, as he departs for the very hell that plagued his nightmares and stained his memories red, he feels rather as if he were dragging her down with him. But her staying behind is not an option, they both know that well.
He takes a deep breath, as if preparing to dive underwater, and walks forward, but it is she who lingers this time.
"Colonel," He can hear the urgency in her tone, and pictures her brow, creased with worry. "I'll ask you one last time, are you sure-"
"Yes, Lieutenant," He is surprised by how certain his voice sounds, almost stern, but he is certain. "I've made my decision and I'm standing by it. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right."
She hesitates a moment before replying.
"Very good, sir. I understand."
Her hand moves to its customary spot at his elbow, but he shrugs it off. Not because he dislikes her touch-he enjoys it very much, actually-but because he has become independent, and does not need it.
So the two officers board the train as separate individuals on the same mission, heads held high, arms stiffly at their sides, boots clicking sharply against the ground.
The train sounds a horn, lets out a breath of steam, and starts moving just moments after they step on. They find a seat, and say nothing, and as the city grows smaller and smaller in the distance, neither of them dare to look back.
Because looking back means second thoughts.
And there is no turning back now.
Very short, I know, but my prologues usually are. The next chapter will be much longer. Reviews please! I want em'!