Angel Gates by purple jellybean hoarder
Category: semi-AU
Disclaimer: FMA doesn't belong to pjh. If it were, I won't be a depressed university student.
Warning: may be confusing. For more info, look to the AN at the bottom
title: a dark angel's sin.
This must be a dream.
Colonel Roy Mustang stood solemnly in the rain. It hardly ever rained. Why was it raining now?
He blankly stared at the various tear streaked faces. At the darkness of their clothes. It looked out of place, somehow. The blue of their uniform was the only constant he had ever since remembered. Something terrible had happened. But still, he felt detached.
They all displayed their wings, out of respect.
The ceremony was long, and the mood was sobering. There was a dreadful feeling creeping up his neck. It was the same type of helplessness that gave way to despair. His thoughts became clear, clear and logical. Too logical. It almost frightened him—he wanted to remain numb. But what was he remembering now?
"Ignorance was never quite your forté, Roy."
"Maes," he whispered. Was it his fault? His terrible ambition? Did his friend ever regret working with such a fool? He had left his family behind. His lovely wife—oh God, what about his daughter?'
No peace even in death?
The line of caskets continued, each triggering a tiny jolt of tormented memory. The sour taste in his mouth grew metallic and bitter. It was ironic, really, even in victory, there was no joy. Their lives weighed heavily upon his conscious, and he was still powerless. But until how long will they suffer under the will of a martial rule?
I want to be Fuhrer.
The last casket was finally brought up, adorned in full military honour. He knew it was empty, just he knew that everyone else knew. He looked to the young Alphonse Elric, now whole and corporal, looking lost and forlorn. Did he realize what had happened?
Nothing can survive through holy fire.
A most fitting retribution, he thought sadly. For the deeds that only they could swear secret to. Perhaps this was how he too, would leave as, cleansed and purified, disintegrating back to the very origin of their doubts.
They had first met with different purposes in mind: he, to stop a war, and the other to save his brother. Yet it was a common goal that united them together, so that with their resources and intellect, formulated a theory so controversial and taboo, it could very well destroy the whole angel society. They both knew the risks, and had foreseen the consequences. But they were strong-willed and determined—what possible punishments could be worse for those who had incurred the wrath of God?
"My little brother is all I have…"
He, who was so instrumental to their whole success, but had to plunge himself further into a world of sin. He had lost him! He cried silently. He didn't mean to, had never meant for it to happen! But he was so young and talented, so very brilliant—why did it have to end like this?!
It is the price of equivalent trade!
And as he watched that casket lowered, sank, disappeared beneath soft earth, it was when the full impact of the situation dawned upon him, when memories rushed back and grief tore through—
Purpose is what drives us all…
—past all obstacles, he will, for the sake of his own peace and the memory of that person, follow through his promise—
Now it's my turn.
The Fullmetal Alchemist was dead.
-----
AN: whoa, this idea just popped out of nowhere as I was cooking pasta. How weird was that? This story is quite cliché, in my opinion, another fic about angels. My love for AUs are... bizzare. Anyway, despite the idea in my head that just keeps running round in circles and won't leave me alone, I think that I'll leave this as a oneshot. I'll see what happens