Unwelcome and Unwanted
Description: Four one-shots describing a Rroma's thoughts on the overly kind Aryans around her.
Disclaimer: I don't own the FMA characters.
"Is it really alright? I am..."
I am a Roma, a Gypsy. She thought inwardly, aware that a wrong choice of words might offend the young man across the table. She regarded his pale hands lightly grasping the knife and fork, and thought that the hands looked delicate and soft, as if the owner was not a rocketeer at all. Almost instinctively, she looked at her own hands: dark, the color unwanted by many, roughened by years of endless toil.
"It can't be helped if you're chased..." The young man continued eating, deep blue eyes that seemed to be contemplating what he puts to his mouth. Or is he thinking of humane words that will not offend her? She then thought how her eyes would look like to him. Would it be a pair of piercing dark brown that tells mysteries? Or a mysterious black that tells of evil? The girl frowned, and the idea of leaving the apartment became seductive. She could bear insults, but insults coming from this Aryan young man who was feeding her was a whole different story.
"And I am a bit glad." He smiled.
The girl's eyes widened. Wait. Did he just smile? Suddenly she can't concentrate on eating, let alone starting to eat. Was it faked? No, she thought, the almost invisible laugh lines reached the corners of his eyes, so his smile can't be a fake. But an Aryan who was glad that there was a gypsy in his apartment? She had thought before that it was just a legend. Her frown deepened and thought about where this conversation would lead; maybe the insult would be at the end.
The young man stopped stretching his lips, but the remnants of his smile were still painted on his face. He then looked at the girl serenely, noticing that he needed to explain himself.
"I am glad that Edward is interested in a woman."
"Huh?"
What is happening? The girl thought. He was an Aryan, he should be taunting to her, rather than telling her he was happy she was here sharing his provisions with her. Taunting she can endure, but this was making her confused. He was too kind of an Aryan.
He went on talking about his friend. The young woman didn't think too much about what the young man was telling her, but more on the emotions behind the young man's statements. The way he put down his knife and fork down resignedly, as if he had been talking about his friend for ages; the way he frowned while telling her that his friend was indifferent to people; and the way he smiled feeling quite amused while telling her that his friend always talked about another world told her that---
The door closed, and Noah was left looking at Alfons's plate.
---"he is a kind Aryan..." She sighed; her lips starting to form a smile. Not that she is too happy, something tells her that this might... no...this will not end good, but she is relieved; at least in this small apartment here in Munich, she felt welcomed.
It was getting dark inside the flower shop, and the two women had to depend on the setting orange sun as light. Almost dark as it is, it seemed to Noah that the flowers never lost their shine. The orange, the pink, and the yellow colors of the tulips told her that their light was not the sun, but these delicate beauties. However, she stood at the dark corner of the flower shop; staring hard at the flower pot she was holding; away from the police officer's gaze and his scathing statements, and listening if Edward and Alfons's landlady will say anything against her. Her eyes started to burn and her eyesight blurred. As she clutched the flower pot tighter against her chest, her teardrops fell. She was not insulted with Officer Hughes, she's used to it; she had heard similar statements during the course of her lifetime. But fresh tears replaced the ones she wiped away when Gracia said--
"Please, she's weak. Protect her."
She fell to her knees as her whole body, her legs especially, shook. Noting that the two were still talking, she put the flower pot beside her and bit the flesh below her right thumb, letting the gushing of her tears overwhelm her. Here she was a Roma girl, hardened by years of insults but was crying because an Aryan was defending her. She mildly snickered at the irony of it. She wondered why Gracia would waste her saliva for a gypsy. But why wouldn't Gracia? This is the same Gracia who smiled genuinely at her the first time she met her, the same Gracia whom she helped in the shop, and the same Gracia who literally clothed her. Never had an Aryan, much less a woman, defended her, but Gracia was doing so. Her lips quivered against her own flesh; her eyes unseeing. Her heart crushed with gratitude.
Then she was surrounded by a shadow. Gracia folded her knees beneath her and sat beside Noah. She put her hand on the Roma's back and caressed it from left to right, calming her. Noah looked to her left, and was awashed with a sight of warm emerald eyes that seemed to glow. She wanted to reach for it, but instead, she embraced Gracia even if she knew that her face was wet of tears.
"This is too much...too much...kindness, I... don't deserve it..." Sobbing uncontrollably, choking at every breath; heaving with every word. If only she could show her how grateful she was, and how guilty.
"Why are...why are you so kind? I'm a gypsy..."
The woman held the young woman's head on her chest, sliding her long pale fingers through the black waves. Gracia sighed, angry at the stupidity of people. Here was a Roma doing nothing harmless in helping out in her flower shop, and then suddenly a man –a police at that- will verbally harass her. Who in the world thought that people who looked different from the rest have no right to live? Or to even talk? It was rather unfair, albeit very shallow.
"All people are kind, but there are people who think that they are right. And when they think they are too right, they become arrogant; ignorant." The last word sounded indignant and reproachful, as the woman was wishing that the officer would at least hear, even from a distance, her scorn.
"No one did this before, I'm just...thank you, you didn't have... to do that" she gazed up at Gracia, even if she felt that her nose, lips and eyes were swollen. "Thank you...so much..." and averted her eyes at Gracia's apron, now sporting a map of her tears.
Gracia sighed. The anger that was gnawing at her heart was replaced by a hurt for this girl, and did not fight the burning that clouded her eyes. She wiped the girl's tears slowly with her hand as if reflecting while saying,
"I'm sorry, truly sorry... Sometimes, I'm ashamed to show my face to you. Whenever somebody tells things like that...I feel like I'm the one saying it to you. I feel like... I am the one hurting you. Sometimes when I face you, I am... ashamed... that I'm an Aryan, we've hurt you so much... I'm sorry...I'm really sorry..." She heaved in every pause, her lips touching the younger woman's hair as she embraced Noah tighter. She closed her eyes as trickles of tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry..."
Noah slowly became silent, but her tears were far from drying out. Why was Gracia, somebody who had done nothing but to help her, found herself apologizing while everybody who did hurt her didn't? It was so unfair; Gracia must not to carry this burden. It was not her fault at all, she thought. But Noah didn't respond, not quite sure of how to answer, because a little voice inside her head told her that she deserved an apology. She chose not to voice this, Gracia might be sorry, but she didn't want to offend her by being so indulgent. She felt that Gracia was sincere, and she trusted her, but her pain as a Roma was real. And it seemed to her that no amount of apologies will ever mend her heart. But she suddenly felt dirty for thinking such thoughts to someone so guiltless, and shoved it away. She heaved and tried to smile; at least in this small flower shop here in Munich, she felt protected. With that, she wrapped her arms tighter around the Aryan. "Thank you so much..."
With her head down and with eyes looking at his shoes, she said,
"I'm sorry." It was almost a whisper.
It was all she could say after she betrayed the young man who rescued her from Thule members. It just hit her that she worked for them, resulting to the death his father, his friend, and his close brush to his very own death. They were outside the castle and the chilling wind pierced their bones. He was with Al, and she could also see his shoes. She tried to remember Al's face. Ed was right, he looked so much, so much like Alfons that it seemed to her that Al was Alfons's twin and not Edward's brother. She shivered uncontrollably, but not because of the wind. Was it fear? Maybe. Fear of what? Rejection. Magnified all the more for she did something unfair to this young man. An Aryan (though he didn't admit it, she still considered him so. He looked Nordic enough), who had been very kind to her. She took cautious steps forward while thinking that he would reject her, and she would endure it. She deserved it. She thought he would push her away, and knew she would cry for that. But she also knew that she would move on; she was a Roma after all.
She slowly lifted her face, gathering all the courage to face him. His face was stoic. Gold eyes that seemed to be calculating his thoughts; that seemed to be scrutinizing her face. She wondered how she looked like. Was she now a despicable traitor? Or was she still a friend? Could he see that she was truly sorry?
"You just wanted a home… I cannot be angry with you for that." He smiled at her faintly, then continued, "I'm the one who needs to apologize, if I didn't make you continue living with us, Thule wouldn't have found you so easily." He scratched the back of his head as he took his gaze down, realizing the floor is nicer to look at.
He knew that her pride was in traveling and answering the call of the road, but what did he do? He practically imprisoned her thinking that he can protect her. And he just painfully realized: What made him think he was strong? He failed in protecting his brother, so what made him think that he can protect this woman? He mentally cursed himself.
She stepped closer, feeling bold. She held Edward's flesh hand with her both hands. She didn't deserve this, why are these Aryans so kind? Where did this kindness come from?
"But…I sold you to them, Edward. You must be angry at me. Please be angry. I can take that, but this… it's maddening." She frowned, her eyes staring at the golden orbs, her mind in denial of this pretense of trying to understand her. She tried to find anger but she couldn't.
"Well…" Edward put his automail hand atop hers, and started tracing small circles. He frowned slightly, "Well, yeah, it felt like…felt like shit really…" She cringed at the word. So that was how deep his hurt was that he needed to swear. But as soon as she thought of this, he added, "… but I'm not angry at you at all… I'm just very surprised with the extent of your power. All that… alchemical knowledge…I felt so exposed." He grinned sheepishly, feeling foolish and uneasy with what he just said.
Her lips opened, and smiled of relief. "Sorry…" and smiled wider. "Don't worry, I didn't look into the too personal parts." Now she was more serious and said softly and slowly, "When I saw your mother, brother and your hometown before, I knew I saw something very precious, and promised I wouldn't go too deep into your memories." She knew she was that powerful, and she needed to draw the line somewhere.
"Thanks." He looked serene. It was all he needed to say; all he wanted to say for her respect. He knew she blamed herself, but he did not want to go harassing people, blaming them for things in which they already made a choice of. But a thought struck him, and he continued. "It's not paradise out there in my world, you know. Just look at me, I don't want you to be like this…" and he gestured to his right arm and left leg. Truly, a world with alchemy would be far worse for her. The horrors… he didn't want to remember the horrors anymore.
She looked at him, and it made sense. His metal arm that cannot feel told her that he lost something very important, but she knew it was more than a physical loss. It was something that she would never understand. He can touch, he can feel, he can be warm, but the feeling will never be satisfied, or even be quenched. A part of his heart will always yearn for completeness. But then, who was she to judge? she asked herself. He already accepted it.
She closed the distance and embraced him. "Thank you…" At least here in the colossal castle, she felt wanted.
The winds died down, and it was a starless night.
She had always heard the call of the road. And as she answered it, she dreamed to be a traveler quietly moving from town to town, across countryside in a colorful decorated wagon. She dreamed of campfires filled with music, dance, and many happy and laughing children. She dreamed of gazing up at the endless clusters of stars, and weaving stories from it. Many times, she took pride in giving guidance to people with the use of her ability, and sometimes she was also tricked by the worldly Romas, but she just laughed it off.
It was a beautiful, romantic dream. But she woke up every morning and treaded the lonely road. Her travels were not quiet; it was punctuated with fleeing from insults. The curiosity of the white people who beheld her turned to outright hostility, and she was offended as young as she could remember. There were no colorful wagons, but only dusty and old-smelling trucks. The campfires were devoid of laughter, but only thoughts on how to get food for tomorrow. She stopped looking at the stars, and put her efforts instead in earning a living. She was sold like a ware, and she was estranged to other Romas. The beauty of her vision in contrast to her reality made her cynical. She traveled, but it was without enthusiasm; she traveled, and it was without dreams anymore.
She grew older, and knew not anymore the sweetness of childhood. She answered the call of the road, but she had become a traveler without a destination.
So it was a shock when Edward saved her; she couldn't have been more relieved. Alfons smiled at her; she couldn't have felt easier. Gracia embraced her; she couldn't have felt warmer.
She couldn't have been happier. Or confused.
Her own kind betrayed her, and their kind abused her, so what made her think they would be different? A touch, a look, a question, an answer, a vision. Then came understanding. It was an understanding that there were other fellow sufferers. It was an understanding that not only his or her pain was real. It was an understanding that not all in this life is rosy. It was an understanding that one must not waste his or her life when another is barely holding on.
She thought of herself as a spiritual traveler; and a traveler without destination. She had no place she could call home, but even so, she had a piece of paradise. It was their kindness. And no matter how disconcerting it was, she accepted it.
And she would continue in answering the call of the world, and no matter how far her feet would take her, she would always remember that there was that small apartment in Munich, and for the first time, she felt welcomed and wanted.
Noah is a simple and complex character at the same time; that is why she needs our love (Why is it that she is not included in the character selection? I was forced to use Ed and Alfons).
Thank you for reading my story! And for the love of all things anime, review, comment and suggest anything for improvement. It makes any writer happy. XD