Ash, a fullmetal alchemist fanfic

All that is left here now is a burnt out hollow of a room. All that is left of the person that I knew is gone. I never thought that he would go this far. He was the last person I thought would be gripped with the same feeling of helplessness that I have. My eyes scan the room that is burnt almost beyond recognition. In the floor runs the grooves of the array, he carved into the ground of the room.

Without being an alchemist, I still know what he did. At least I know what he was going to do. Things didn't happen quite how he expected them to I suspect. All those investigating assume the array is the reason for this mess, but I know differently. The array had been covered with a rug so he didn't even look at it as he realised it was useless, but the fires had burnt even the furniture leaving the array uncovered.

He did instead the most pointless thing a man can do. I should have seen his pain. I already saw his doubt and the fact that every day he came back with a greater shadow hanging over him. His eyes grew dark with the suffering of the innocents that he carried. He was filled with a desire to help people and that is why he joined the army. He didn't become a dog of the military to kill people. Especially not those who could not truly fight back against him.

He was an alchemist and with that came responsibilities and cares he was too young to really appreciate. He knew that he might be called to war, yet I don't think he ever thought it would really happen, but here we are in a war zone. I am standing here the last one of us alive. I was sure he was too stubborn to die, not in this senseless war.

It seems I was wrong though and this room reflects my failure. My throat tightens and I feel my eyes sting. I blame the smoke that still hangs in the room from what happened. The too sweet smell of burnt flesh still reaches my nostrils making me gag for a moment. I close my eyes for a moment to reorganise my thoughts. I have to be sensible about this. I have to succeed where he no longer can. I know what happened because of a note that was sent to my room. There were two words on it. I'm sorry. I came here expecting something bad, but not this bad.

I made friends with him surprisingly easily. He was loud when he first came here. Stood out in a crowd. A small smile curls my lips at my memories. That day sticks out so clearly.

I sighed sipping the bitter coffee they served here. It seems I won't be able to get a decent drink till I get home. That thought brings a wry chuckle from me. I notice a few glances but ignore it. I am already known for being eccentric. People here just accept it so I don't care about what I do so much. It's liberating. I wonder if I will get home. I am a soldier after all I could die. A bullet could kill me or a grenade. Any number of things could cause my death out here. I am not invulnerable no matter how much I may like to act that way.

There was a commotion at the door and the ripples spread till everyone knew that the new shipment of soldiers had arrived and with them was a new alchemist. Apparently he was known as the Flame Alchemist. Some hope flooded through me that he would be useful to have around. As I looked up a man entered the mess hall. He was average height with short black hair and eyes to match. There was an air of indomitability about him. He exuded confidence and a ready grin curved his face.

He was handsome I suppose. He was probably popular with the ladies. The one thing that threw me was his age. He looked so young. He was probably older than he appeared, but it made me feel sick to know that he would be fighting. There was no way that he could possibly be up to it. Even if he used fire like they said there was no way that he would be able to use his alchemy in the field. I returned to my coffee the bitter taste grounding me. We were at war. He probably wouldn't even last a week so there was no need to spend more time thinking about him.

That was the first time I saw him. I didn't think much of him, but that changed quickly. He soon became just as famous as the other alchemists, but I found out one thing. The tales were not exaggerations at all I witnessed the brutal efficiency with which they could use alchemy to kill. Hundreds died burning quickly. Their screams silenced before their time as the flames burned hotter than any normal person could have produced at such short notice. He became quieter and more withdrawn as time passed.

I was assigned to his unit and saw him fighting from close up. It both fascinated and horrified me. I was finally able to see an alchemist at work. A mere click of his fingers and flames rippled through the air flying unerringly to whatever target he sent them. They then tore at the person destroying them with flames burning them away. It never lasted long. I think he hated it. I could sometimes see him wince if one screamed particularly loudly. I didn't speak to him really even when in his unit until once I caught him after a battle.

I sighed to myself as I looked once again at the battlefield. This had been a hard fight. The injuries were mounting. The war seemed like it was never going to end. What was it all for anyway? Most of the soldiers had retreated by now to get treatment. There were only the minimum necessary to control the new area we had won from the inhabitants. There was no sense of satisfaction or a job well done. In fact the only thing well done were some of the enemy. I sighed shaking my head. Dammit that was no way to think. It wasn't funny in the slightest. It just reminded me of the blank look on the alchemists face whilst he burnt those people alive. He killed them with such a look of emptiness on his face it was awful to watch. It was just as bad as Kimberley's obvious joy as people exploded all around him. I had seen him only once in a fight. I was grateful I had not seen him since.

I started to walk around thinking to check once more on the houses taken. I walked into the nearest house and saw nothing even after wandering all through it. I did this to a few more houses before deciding this was a pointless exercise. Yet something drew me on to the last house of the row. As I drew closer I heard a noise I had not expected. Someone was crying inside. Not just tears and sniffling. These were big wracking sobs of grief.

I entered quickly unable to just walk on. The sight before my eyes shocked me. There was our alchemist lying prone on the floor in the dirt shaking with the force of his sobs. Before him on the ground was the remains of a young child. Just out of the burnt child's reach was a gun cocked and ready for use. It was obvious merely from a glance what had gone on here.

For a second I contemplated walking on, but something made me stay and walk over to him. I didn't say anything only wrapped my arms around him pulling him from the ground. He didn't even resist his body pliant in my grasp as I pushed his face into the front of my jacket. He was covered in soot sweat and tears, but that didn't matter. I had my fair share of those covering me anyway. He clung to me tears soaking my front fingers clutching me like a life line. I stroked a hand through his hair and mumbled nonsense telling him it would be alright. I didn't even know his name, but for that entire night I stayed there with him holding him even as he finally slept. I did not have the heart to wake him and bring him back to the war he hated so much.

Looking at him then I saw how much he had changed. He was no longer the bright young alchemist from so long ago it seemed. He was paler than he had been his bones more prominent. His hair was unkempt strands every which way and it wasn't just the effect of the fight we had been through. He obviously wasn't looking after himself. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days if the rings under his eyes were anything to go by.

My heart went out to him. He had such a burden. Yet in the end he was fighting for his life. War was not what it was made out to be. It was dirty and dark. It was all that was worst in man made reality. Even as he slept tears slid from beneath his closed lids. He couldn't even escape what had happened in the realms of sleep. I sighed and sat there staring at the moon guarding his sleep.

I became great friends with him after that. There were many days when he turned up eyes full of shadow and the smell of death on him. I would ignore the look and offer him a drink. I was a reprieve for him. I was his safety net. When he fell I would catch him. I look at the burnt room once more. Well it seems I failed him this time. There is no one left in the room except me now. They have investigated to their hearts content. All that's left to do is move on.

The war won't stop just because of his death. It doesn't change anything. People will still die. My fist hits the wall as I feel my eyes burn. I will not cry for him. Not for this selfish bastard. He killed himself when he should have kept going. He gave up and I have no time for someone who doesn't have the mental strength to keep going here. A strangled sound comes from my throat half way between a growl and a sob.

He wasn't ready. It wasn't fair of them to send him here. It's the army's fault. He didn't want to be here. He was stronger than anyone I know. He had such a burden to bear. I wish I could have helped him more.

I wish I could have said the right words that he needed to hear. I wish I could have stood there by his side and fought with him, but no one could. His power was such none of us could keep up. I could not stay by him. I failed him. I feel the hot burn of unwanted tears sliding down my cheeks. They are strangely warm against my chilled skin. The room is so cold the night air flowing through the holes where the windows once stood.

I miss him.

The admission hurts me more than I care to think. He was one of my closest friends out here. He was someone I could do something for even if that something was to get him so drunk he couldn't remember anything. Now I see the true extent of my failure. I should have done more. I should have ..... I can't think of anything that could make this right. If he would go so far as to kill himself then I don't know what words of mine could have saved him. I was simply not enough.

He couldn't take the killing. It was worse when he killed young children. It killed a piece of him every time that he did. He felt himself losing to war as they screamed and died held by his flames. They were inescapable. The array on the floor was forbidden alchemy. He had studied trying to bring one of his victims back. His guilt nearly drove him to attempt to bring back a dead person. Yet there is one thing alchemy can not do. It can not bring back life. When someone dies their soul is gone. Their shell may return, an empty body or so Roy told me.

He said it was pointless to try as he knew all that would lie there was an empty body. There would not even be life in it or so he hypothesised. It wouldn't even move. It would be like a mannequin as good as dead, but with no life to begin with. What was the point of merely having a body that lived but did nothing like a vegetable? He gave up on that idea, but not the guilt it seems. I should have seen that he would do this. He burnt himself to death. Maybe he saw it as a fitting end to one who killed others so indiscriminately. He died the same death as them probably screaming as the flames ate at his flesh. I grit my teeth the image too much to contemplate.

Something in the corner of the room catches my gaze a slight twinkling on the floor. I walk closer to see broken glass and almost dismiss it till I saw a piece of paper. Picking it up I turn it over. My heart stops in my chest.

There staring up at me are our two smiling faces. The photo is discoloured and burnt all round the edges, but still recognisable. My knees cave leaving me there on the floor grasping the picture to my chest and crying. All I can feel is a knot of guilt that I couldn't save him and grief that he left me behind. I remember the day I gave him the picture.

Roy looked irritated when I first came in,

"What do you want Hughes? If you are going to tell me about your girlfriend back home then turn around right now!" I grinned quickly sliding the picture I had of her into my pocket. It seemed now was not the time.

"I didn't come for that. I had a completely different reason." He looked disbelieving but nodded at me to continue. At first I was at a loss, because I really had no other reason, but inspiration hit me. I reached into a different pocket and held out my hand handing him what it contained. He took it with a slight frown which turned to surprise. Then a genuine smile lit his face.

I had given him one of the many photo's I had taken of us doing things. I wanted memories that I could treasure to over shadow the ones I didn't even wish to possess. Seeing pictures reminded me of things we did. I hoped it would do the same for him. He cleared his throat and I noted the slight sheen in his eyes.

He looked at me his face rid of his trademark smirk and completely open.

"Thank you!" I shrugged a bit embarrassed he was so pleased.

"Remember when that was?" He shook his head still gazing at the picture with some sort of awe on his face. Maybe at the fact he looked so happy. A large smile split his face and he appeared to be laughing and I was as well my arm around his shoulders. I pushed my glasses up my nose.

"It was when there was a ceasefire. The day we went to the lake. When we went swimming and you almost drown, because you were too stubborn to admit you couldn't swim." He nodded eyes transfixed by the picture as I spoke reminding him of happier days. "I saved you and we spent the rest of the day fooling around. We even had fireworks when it got dark. It was fun." Roy traced a finger across the image his voice a mere whisper,

"I really enjoyed myself. Thank you Hughes." I laughed breaking the almost cloying atmosphere,

"Want to go for a drink?" Roy had agreed quickly and gone with me, but first he slid the picture into his inner pocket.

I had nearly forgotten I had given him this picture. I hadn't seen it displayed anywhere. I assumed he kept it in his pocket. He had treasured it. That it had escaped the destruction was more than miraculous. It was like he had placed it as far from him as possible maybe in an attempt to preserve it? I shook my head. That was wishful thinking. Yet looking at the picture my face damp and eyes blood shot I hoped it was so. I couldn't take this away from here. I had given it to him. It was his even now.

I stood shakily my legs weak and pulled a knife from my side. Abruptly I slammed it into the corner of the picture attaching it to the wall. With only one more glance I strode out of the room my best friend had died in. I had a war to finish. Only then could I think of him without all this pain. I had to survive where he had not. I would do this for both of us.

As I slid out the door letting it close slowly behind me I whispered my final farewell.

"Goodbye Roy. I will see you again, but not too soon. Wait for me." Those were the last things I ever said to him.

I never went to his funeral. That was not him. What was left of him was all in that room. It was all that remained of what he once was. That one picture hanging on the wall alone. The rest was merely ash.