Wow. Here's a FMA thing. Can't believe I did this.
DISCLAIMER: Fullmetal Alchemist ain't mine. Hiromu Arakawa is the mastermind.
Rubedo
Chapter 1
Hide 'n Seek
Beware of beautiful days. When you get happy, you get careless.
She's good at hiding, she has been for a while. Being found is always a different story.
She's been hiding in the guest room closet for some time now, but she cannot or will not step out. Small yes, but she won't ruin the fun of a two-year-old valiantly scouring the house to find her, though she has been hiding in there for quite some time amongst coats of various images. Gracia has a a lot of pretty coats. It's plenty enough to snuff a person's body from sight and since Elicia hasn't found her yet—
"Find you!" The sudden light brings a little girl standing in front of her proudly. She can see the little girl's smile grow until her cheeks are no more, smothered in the dark apparently not affecting her sight.
Maya returns the smile not a second later. "It's found you, Elicia." She corrects the girl's grammar. Maya steps out of Gracia's closet and presses her right palm on the door to close it. Once she hears the gentle click, she faces the small seeker through eyes softer than a feathered pillow. Elicia's afternoon dress has the shape of a big pink bow sticking to her, the sleeves the loopy bows and the tails the lower end.
Twinkled green eyes look at her. "It's my tun to hide now, Big Sis!"
"We've been playing for the past thirty minutes," Maya says. She pats Elicia on the head and, if miracles were as concrete as matter, she could stuff her energy back into her system from that one pat. On the contrary, that may rile her up again and beg for the game to continue.
"How about a tea party?" The young redhead suggests. The proposition she frequently dishes, a much more tamer game compared to the rest. She pats away the wrinkles and dust gathered around her dress from the closet. Her afternoon dress is not as rich and appealing as Elicia's, but it's doable and simple, not much beyond a light sea green flow. Gracia will occasionally sneak fancy dresses in her room time to time, and the sly lady knows Maya doesn't have the heart to deny them.
Maya and Elicia head to Elicia's room, the white tiny table in the far right. Her plushies, toys and stuffed animals are behind in a slight disarray, but it doesn't ruin the image of a pretty white tea party.
Maya takes her usual seat at the far end of the table.
"Yay! Tea party!" Elicia cheers. She takes attendance of each stuffs and plushies, and decides which will sit where. It's pretty amusing to watch her go about her ways per usual, but today, she's a little more vigilant than previous times.
Before they can continue, Gracia walks into the room and tells them she's going shopping and asks if they want to accompany her. Maya accepts and Elicia cheers. Maya has an inkling the excessive shopping is for her birthday no less a week away, Gracia denies it wholeheartedly and slips on Elicia's sweater.
Ms. Gracia is unsure of what to cook for tonight's dinner, but she figures if she sees most of the markets and see their specialties for today, she'll produce an idea.
"What do you think, Maya?" She goes on to ask, grabbing her purse. She has on a creamy cardigan and a lavender dress, ready for the day like always.
Maya ponders over it. Like Maes commonly says, Gracia's cooking is amazing. She doesn't really mull it over since whatever Gracia dishes out for dinner is fine with her.
So, Gracia dolls up the two girls for a trip to the market, little resistance from Maya, but the teen zips her mouth when Gracia gracefully pulls her bun tighter and clips a yellow bow, bigger than the one she was previously going to use.
"Nice, right Maya?"
"Y-Yes, Ms. Gracia."
Outside, the city's summer afternoon sun moves in and out of clouds but lights the entire district regardless. There's a slight bite, but it's a beautiful day, completely normal for midsummer medleys. Her knitted sweater keeps the bite away and she's grateful for her skin was too attuned to the warmth back in the house.
Gracia is able to quickly snag a cab for them. "C'mon, you two." Gracia enters first, then Elicia, then Maya. The driver, a clean man with friendly brown eyes, turns to them. "Hello. Where're you heading?" The man scans them, but abruptly stops at Maya. His eyes drag up and down, from head to toe. He finally stops with a grimace, though he attempts to hide it in the best way he can.
Maya has a neutral face on. She's already seen it in her book all the time, flipped through many of the reactions she'll get all because of some red eyes.
"To the farmers' market right off of Marx street, please," Gracia tells him firmly.
It doesn't relieve the tension, but it pushes the driver to get back on track with his job. He faces the road and drives. But that isn't all from him. She can hear mumbles, indistinct and offended; some snippets of, "…shouldn't be out and about…" and, "lucky" that you aren't full…"
Maya sits back and fiddles with Elicia's pigtails for the majority of the ride.
They finally arrive at the busy farmers' market. The area is packed, but it's a common ratio for midday. People are at their preferred paces and mindless chatter sounds the place in a comfortable scene, and it actually gives motion to the teen who is slightly tired of playing make-believe.
They stick to the food markets, Gracia also wanting to pick up produce along the way. They stop at an open market where people are scattered amongst rows of fresh food and goods. A little while after, Gracia is holding a brown paper bag full of groceries while Maya holds three more of them, both still clueless of what meal they want for dinner.
By the time they peruse through most of the markets' offers and pick up what's needed, they stop and spot Mr. Becker, the baker, outside ringing his voice above everyone's head about fresh bread loafs and rolls at appropriate prices. She knows it's his voice, that thick Aerugean accent that has a melodic slur for most his words.
Mr. Becker is an olive skin, stout, bush bearded man leaving middle age and leaning elderly. He's proud of everything that he handles with his own hands. The bakery shop he owns, Beckers, is a place people are very fond of. Most people head for quality bread and pastries in Central. Maya thought it to be an exaggeration, but the day she visited and had a taste of his creations, buying groceries without stopping here is a heinous act.
Maya has a sort of a childish glow about herself approaching him, similar to Elicia who's excitingly shouting to her mother for her birthday cake to be made from Mr. Becker's bakery. In an instant, he notices them. His smile can't remain small. A big laugh out of his big mouth, he greets them. "Three beautiful ladies at my bakery, what a lucky man I am!"
"Don't let Maes hear you, Stefan." Gracia joins in the merry with a joke.
Mr. Becker laughs again as if it's all he knows how to do. "Y'know Maes has my respects! Gotta admire a family man." He turns his jolly attention to Elicia. "How are you mi ami belissina?"
Elicia giggles and throws her arms up, up, in the air in good cheer. "My birthday is comin'!"
Mr. Becker gives a loud, faux gasp as if he's a stranger to the news. "Really? You should've told me Elicia! Looks like I have a big cake to make!"
"With strawberry frosting!" She adds.
"Elicia," Gracia says, light in her stern.
"It's alright, Gracia. How can I refuse?"
Mr. Becker then readily turns to Maya who's quite flustered despite knowing it's her turn to be greeted. "And Maya, Bellina, Bellina!"
"Hi, Mr. Becker," She greets.
Mr. Becker is of Aerugean descent though his last name is Amestrian. He'd let everyone know too, greatly unabashed by his accent and family lineage of immigrants. A small piece of the bakery is dedicated for Aerugean styled pastries and desserts and, if people's tongues are in a certain mood, the section of the bakery would be cleaned out near five.
He makes it infinitely clear he's more grounded in his Aerugean roots than his Amestrian.
"Come inside, come inside. I have fresh rolls and bread right out the oven."
With their sugar perfume, the goodies welcome them once they enter. Displayed cakes, cookies, breads and others in three filed lines are protected behind a well polished glass, and of course, the portion on the left side of the shop dedicated to Aerugean deserts.
Mr. Becker is already in the back gathering the breads. Maya gives a side glance and watches Elicia pull Gracia to the display case and number the amount of sweets that just has to come home with them.
Maya spends time looking around, not much since she hears, "Un adimo!" from the back. However, she does catch what Mr. Becker chose for a special today. On the counter, standing from slant but sturdy legs, is the blackboard, face marked up by Mr. Becker's bored Amestrian. The special for today is sweet rolls.
There's an itch in Maya's heart, but she makes no moves to scratch it. If done, she'll be afraid of what will leak out.
Mr. Becker finally returns with a bountiful supply of different breads and rolls in a brown paper bag. He was right; the breads did just come out of the oven, good and lively.
"On the house!" he declares.
"Stefan, is this really—"
"Schecerto! Anything for the Hughes family! I even put today's special inside."
"Sweet rolls," Maya says in a sudden swift she doesn't recognize.
"Yes, sweet rolls!" Mr. Becker faces her. "Would you like me to put more?"
"No, you put more than enough, Mr. Becker. I just read the blackboard and remembered someone who really liked sweet rolls." A different type of smile appears. "He was such a sucker for them. His brother and I always bribed him with them when we wanted him to do something for us, but it was for pranks' sake. But I always thought it funny that he liked sweet rolls because," her smile turns sad, "that's exactly what he was: sweet."
She didn't mean to scratch it.
Maya closes her mouth tight in realization. Mr. Becker's smile becomes grand.
"We have to pack some for him then!"
"It's okay. It's all in the past."
"C'mon, Bellina! You must treat your friend!"
"He doesn't need them." Her eyes dim and so does the childish glow she has been wearing. She clutches the three brown paper bags full of groceries. "He does not need them."
"It's alright, Stefan." Gracia swoops in. She holds her load in her right hand and the other hand lays on Maya's back and makes quiet soothing circles. Maya relaxes. "We can't always spoil our friends."
The baker man quickly agrees. "Vera, but it's a joy to do so!"
A ding is heard in the back and Mr. Becker turns around.
"Oh, the muffins are done already?" He drops the bag on the counter behind him and hurries off.
When Mr. Becker scuffles to the back, Gracia eyes Maya, a small frown tucked in her mouth. She pats her back. Her hand just being there helps Maya hang on to the present a little bit more. It was an unconscious overflow, an uncontrollable effect from seeing one thing align with her unwanted memories. Not trivial at all, but really unneeded.
"I did pick apples for a reason." Gracia moves her hand and brandishes the brown paper bag she had in the air as if waving a doll.
And she did, six red bright streaked apples, color more beautiful and lovely than Maya's dark, sullen red hair. Maya thinks for a second until her thoughts patches up. "Apple pie…!" She answers, eyes having nothing but anticipation.
Gracia replies with a knowing smile.
"That she learned from this old man!" Mr. Becker puts in, somehow next to Maya again. His hands are stapled to his round hips and he stands like a perfectly poised proud statue. Maya did remember Gracia mention not so long ago that she had worked at Beckers bakery when she was around her age.
"I will admit, Gracia. Your apple pie surpasses the greatest of all bakers." Mr Becker beams. Gracia, always humble, waves away his claim, but Maya knows that Mr. Becker is being as candid as ever.
"Well, I don't want to keep you ladies too long. Go enjoy your day. Leave this old man to his sweets." He strolls to the sun wiped door and opens it for them. Gracia and Elicia leave first, the little girl slight huffy that they didn't get more desserts. Maya moves to leave, but is stopped by a worried Mr. Becker, mouth settled in a serious line.
"What's wrong, Mr. Becker?" Maya asks. However, she has inklings, bright twinkled stars in her brain that she knows what will come out his mouth.
"Anyone bothering you lately?" He asks softly.
She isn't taken aback by the question. He'd asked her this numerous of times and is quite grateful of it.
"Not that much anymore," She returns after several seconds of silence. Aside from the cab driver who just grumbled all the way to the farmers' market, everything else is fine, and Maya decides Mr. Becker isn't missing out on anything if she mentions that tidbit. "I guess people see me with the Hughes and leave me alone. It's actually quite surprising honestly."
To the outsiders, it's a surprise a mixed Ishvalan is walking out and about after the civil war ended. It's a surprise how Maes' fellow soldiers haven't discovered yet, though she hangs with Maes more in the apartment compared to outside. As it is, there has been no disruption so far and she'd like to keep it that way.
"Amestris is a nice place, sprendido! But, it is built on prejudice. One person better than the other; not good thinking, not good."
Maya inclines her head in some form of a comforting nod. The strange thing is that she's vaguely distressed by that thought rather than comforted. In Amestris, being better than someone else grants more favor. Being better ranges from occupation to genetics. If your genetics aren't right, then you're not right as a person. That's the part Maya can't stand.
Nevertheless, she hums in soft agreement.
Mr. Becker pats her on the shoulder. "Like I say, Rosso ti cera—"
"—de tempa si spera. I know." Maya finishes.
When the sky is red, good weather is hoped for.
When they come home, the sun is setting and fanning a calm red above Central City.
While they hunted and gather groceries for the apartment, Gracia is still at a lost what to cook up for a dinner.
"Maes is coming home soon. I have to get dinner started," She stresses, floundering and packing supplies in cabinets.
Maya takes to her mind. With the small chat she had with Mr. Becker, her appreciation for the Hughes family grows immensely. And since she heard Mr. Maes' mutterings about a difficult case slowing his division down because of how maniacal the criminal is, she figures that cooking Mr. Maes' favorite food would ease him.
"I should've thought of this earlier, but how bout spinach quiche?" Maya offers.
That strikes a brilliant smile from Gracia and she nods. "Great choice, Maya. Good thing I bought tons of flour." Maya ushers Elicia upstairs to her room to play and soon they get to work.
Maya swipes a grater and begins to grate a block of cheese while Gracia makes the dough. A cozy silence descends, noise and words channeled toward a wonderful dinner. But, Maya lifts away the silence.
"Thank you, Ms. Gracia. You helped me back at the bakery." Maya keeps her eyes downcast, stick to the cheese bowl. "I know Mr. Becker means well, but sometimes…"
"He's a bit overbearing," Gracia finishes.
"Yeah."
Gracia kneads the dough. "Well, he's not aware of what you went through, only of what you're going through. So, if he finds out that you have a friend outside of us, of course he's going to be happy." Dainty fingers sculpt the dough, and Maya can't help but stay quiet and watch.
She continues, "But that's the thing with Mr. Becker. He cherishes the past, and that's the one thing that makes him enjoyable to be around, but,"
She grabs a rolling pin and begins stretching the dough, "I do believe it's better to focus on where you're going and less on where you come from."
Maya hears her words. It nestles in her head so deeply that a two-hour crafted recipe seemed like thirty minutes and she finds herself upstairs to prepare Elicia for dinner. Gracia had set the table in advance: spinach quiche, salad, sweet rolls, potatoes and ice tea. Eating with his family should kill the stress, Maya thinks.
And on the dot, Maes comes home right before dinner.
Maya is in the bathroom preparing Elicia for dinner. Maya has cheese and flour lodge in her fingernails, but it's worth it once Maes sees they cooked his favorite meal.
"All done!" squeals Elicia when all the scattering soap suds slides off her hands. Maya turns off the sink, puts her down and grabs a hand towel to wipe the little girl's hands dry. "Clean, clean for spinach quiche, right?" Maya sings and tickles Elicia's hands, the little girl swamped in gleeful giggles.
"Time to eat with Daddy, Big Sister!" Elicia reaches a hand out, a cute little beckon, but Maya sends her away.
"Go with Ms. Gracia. Big Sis has to wash her hands too!"
With extra scrubbing from the flour and cheese of course. And she does just that and adds the strawberry lotion sitting idle in the cupboard. In her love for the red fruit, she smells the lotion a little and is internally grateful Elicia demanded strawberry frosting on her birthday cake.
She leaves the bathroom, glides into the living room:
"Say hello to our guests, the Elric Brothers!"
Maya's knees almost hit the ground.
Her eyes does not do anything resembling shock. No snapping, no slapping, no jolt. Those things happen when you wake from a bad dream, not when you wake into one. No, her eyes drag themselves wide.
Hughes doting over Elicia being her usual adorable self while Gracia smiled at the scene; that was the norm, the present she gradually latched onto. But she's reminded, now more than ever, her present is a fragile existence.
Oxygen isn't oxygen anymore, just bits and pieces of floating fear.
The two are too busy in their conversation with everyone else, they haven't noticed her—yet, that's the scary word, yet. She has all the terror in the world to further her distance, to run out of sight.
But, she knows she's always been poor at applying "Out of sight, out of mind."
Her heart at this point is slippery and hot, and loud, so loud so loud.
Please, don't look. Please—don't look.
Maes stands at the doorway, waiting. How long is she making them wait? How long can she keep this up?
"Maya! Come greet our guests!"
She can see their outline, small and big, freeze in the door light that streamed above them.
It's all over, their stares are all over her and as she stands before them, a moment of breathless hesitation comes and pass. But, someone has to give. And it's not her.
Edward Elric croaks, "M…M-Maya…?"
Author Note: Yeah...New ideas, long stories, hopeful time. Don't shoot me.
Anyway, I constructed a language for Aerugo which is obviously based on the Italian language. I was always interested in the countries outside of Amestris in FMA.
Mi ami bellisina – my pretty friend
Bellina - beauty/beautiful
Un adimo - one minute/ just a moment
Schecerto- A word that is used to tell people not to worry about it. It's used in many different situations when an Aerugean wants to tell someone to not make a mountain out of a molehill
Vera - A word used to admit when someone's right or telling the truth
Sprendido - Splendid
Rosso ti cera de tempa si spera - When the sky is red, good weather is hoped for
I've decided for this story, certain scenes will be accompanied by music! Yes, Rubedo has a soundtrack! It consists of personal songs that I believe fits several scenes or certain characters mixed, of course, with the regular soundtrack of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood.
So, for the Hughes Family Theme: Koigokoro (Usagi Drop)
Elicia's Theme: Sentiment actuel 03: (Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic)
Gracia's Theme: Kouki Mama (Usagi Drop)
The end scene between the Elric Brothers and Maya: Happiness (Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood)
I'll put in Hughes' Theme later. Tell me if you like/dislike the music. I'd really love to know!
Thank you for giving this the time of day! I know the chapter is slow, but the chapter did say beware of beautiful days. Feedback and criticism is greatly appreciated!
