Disclaimer: Me no own, You no sue.
Warning: Yaoi implications
Notes: AU, takes place in near future
-z-
Colonel Roy Mustang. The Flame Alchemist. The hero of the Ishbal War.
Hero. He scoffs at the word and the servants of the Mustang estate know better than anyone the price of such titles. The maids wash sweat-drenched sheets and with a wave of a hand the cook is told, "No breakfast."
-
"I'm sorry, Celia," Roy's voice is hoarse, his head in his hands. His back is against the wall and his elbows are on his knees. His entire form covered in a thick sheen of cold sweat.
Celia wants to plead with her employer to find someone to share this horror with, but such is the price of being a hero: you remain alone with your nightmares and no hero to call you own. "It'll be okay, sir," she says instead, smiling through her wrinkles as she continues to mop up the vomit.
"I hope so," Roy forces a smirk and a bitter chuckle escapes his throat, "for all our sakes."
-z-
Major Edward Elric. The Full metal Alchemist. The Hero of the People.
Hero. He rolls his eyes at the word and shudders at the chill that runs down his spine at the mere mention of Barry the Chopper. Because even though Barry's capture was an achievement on paper, Ed still awakens to the feeling of cold steel slicing through his skin as easily as butter.
-
Edward has his fair share of bloody memories that haunt him at night; half a life in the military will do that to you. Alphonse tries to stick by him, tries so hard; but when he goes to hold him, his fingers fall right through and he wonders absently if ghosts can cry.
-z-
Both the Colonel and the Major are tormented by the ghosts of those who had to be sacrificed; such is the way of war. And no one knows of these dark shadows who follow the soldiers, they just yell and clap their hands as Roy and Ed bow humbly and accept their medals. And no one sees the guilt that is shrouded in anguish that is painted over with simulated smiles and crude jokes.
-z-
When the sleeping pills had stopped being as efficient and the cough syrup had grown effete, the heroes had to find an alternative means of escape. And they did find it; they found it in the other's arms. Be it right or wrong, neither cared, such trivial facts were of no concern. Each night spent praying to find the elusive peace that had seemed to stay forever out of reach.
However, they found none; they found no serenity, no solace. The torment they had stared down for years finally starting to chase them to places beyond the realm of sleep.
A dead woman's faces in the window's reflection.
A joke is told and laughter resounds throughout the room along with a dying man's scream.
The scent of blood and burnt flesh as a woman walks by with freshly baked cookies.
-
"This is the price," whispered a God neither soldier believed in, a tear running down His face. He was still waiting, still waiting for that precise moment, their lives were not yet finished, and neither Roy nor Ed had yet to fully engrave their names into the history books.
He put His hand on the shoulder of the youngest Elric. They've but a final act before the curtain call.
-
The nightmares had become inescapable. So the soldiers made their agreement with a finality that would leave them should they have waited any longer.
Now, they stood opposite each other on the large field behind Roy's estate. Ed's alchemy crackles and flashes auto mail shifts and changes; Roy pulls his glove on tight.
Then they leaped at each other.
-z-
"Have you heard the news?" the postman asks his relief.
The procession continues on despite the heavy rain. Everyone is now free to cry as the heavens rip apart and wail and howl their grief, stringing up a duet with the humans on the ground, their shredded hearts begging and pleading and shouting for it all to not be true.
"Have you heard the announcement?" questioned the old lady to her daughter-in-law.
Large black horses chomp at their bits and paw at the ground, they whinny their apprehension to the world. They know.
"Get your head on straight!" a lieutenant roars to his new recruit. "The world's greatest heroes are-"
The whip flies and the team of beasts start forward, lunging against their collars as they pull their precious cargo away to the last destination.
"-no longer in this world," a mother whispers sadly to her curious daughter.
Thunder rents the atmosphere and lightning illuminates the stoic faces of an army in mourning.
"There always were rumors about those two, who would've thought there was any truth to them?" snorted an uncle to his least favorite nephew.
Rifle shots ring through the air, honoring the fallen alchemists.
"Does anyone know how it happened?" asks the teenager as she powders her nose next to her girlfriends.
A blind, deaf, and dumb man could tell that these two Heroes were Lovers. But one pretends not to notice; he wants to give them their procession. They've earned it. They were heroes
"That would've made a great story, the-" argues the new guy to the Editor-in-Chief.
Hero: A person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially one who has risked or sacrificed his or her life.
"Flame and Full metal! No way! Those two were, like, invincible, who could've taken them both out!" demands the ten-year-old boy of his great-uncle.
No matter the language, no matter the culture, the meaning never changes and its status never diminishes.
"They killed-" a father begins to explain
No matter the language, no matter the culture, the meaning and honor that comes with the title never changes. But such lovely titles always have a price...
"-each other," the postman whispers to his relief with a sad shake of his head.
-z-