So, this is the prequel story to "The Colonel's Secret." This has yet to be edited by a Beta and is meant to be fast paced because I do plan on making this a series
Presidential Decree #306 was the order that changed many lives of Ishvalans, but also the lives of the state alchemists -both good and bad.
**1908**
The sun bared down without hesitation, while it's rays gleamed off the too innocently white appearing sand. The intensity of the rays – both from above and below – enjoyed torturing the untainted skin of the freshly stationed alchemists. Raven shaded eyes were half covered, as small beads of sweat formed; fingers clenching and unclenching around specially designed gloves resting in the safety of the beige overcoat that aided them in blending into the surroundings.
"Listen up," barked Basque Grand, "You'll be given your orders briefly. The only rule here is not to die in this wasteland or to desert. If you don't follow orders, then you will court martialed and have your state alchemist certifications revoked." The man's mustache twitched in annoyance as he stared into the dozens of eyes of the alchemists that seemed to want to piss their pants. "After orders are given they will be carried out as quickly as possible, granted today is the only expectation because we will start orders tomorrow. There will be a break at noon to 1 P.M and you are to report in by 7 P.M for rest. We start at 5 A.M, which, for those that aren't military and don't understand, starts tomorrow morning. After orders are given you are dismissed for the evening."
The tall alchemist turned to the aid to his side to give indication to begin handing out assignments. Said aid quickly handed on to the Iron-Blood Alchemist, who retreated into the surroundings to look over his orders. "Like the Iron-Blood Alchemist stated, once you get your orders you are free to do whatever for the night, just stay on the base." Slowly, he started rattling off the alchemists' name, who, in turn, got their assignments and left slowly. "Flame Alchemist, Roy Mustang," called the aid.
Raven eyes widened a bit before walking up to the aid and taking his orders with a slight pause before leaving towards his quarters. He opened the parchment and read his assignment as he walked back, not caring for finding something to eat at the mess hall because he couldn't stomach the thought of eating with what he was ordered to do. "How awful," whispered the gruff voice.
"What's awful, Flame?" Mustang turned and looked into his superior's eyes, Basque Grand. "If it's your orders you should turn in your certification now because it will only get worse as this war continues, but you are military and should now that soldiers follow orders. If you thought you wouldn't have to kill then you are childish. So, man up or renounce your title."
He straightened his back and brought up right hand in a solute, "sir!" Mustang looked down after Grand left and let out a shaky sigh. "This isn't what I signed up for. We're supposed to help the people of Amestris, not kill them," thought Mustang
It was incredibly hot the higher the sun climbed, but then again, the flames that danced around him didn't help with the heat. Lips drawn into a grimace as the flames erupted after another causing devastation in their wake. He saw a flash of white hair and aimed.
"I'm sorry," thought Roy.
Flames erupted and engulfed the target on spot. Screams cried out for help that would not come. It was the screams that echoed in Mustang's ears long after they had died off forever. Said screams kept echoing as Mustang demolished blocks of an Ishvalan city. The only thing that stopped Mustang was the loud ring of a bell, the break bell.
**Six Months Later**
There was no escaping the sun, as it seemed to want to destroy the Amestrians for their sins of attacking innocent people. However, the break site was not quiet like many would have hoped but filled with shouting and murmurs.
"Do you have any idea how late you are? You were ordered to be here with the rest of the state alchemists, you're lucky you're not being court-martialed!" roared Grand. His figure covering the individual who he was yelling at.
Despite not seeing the figure, it was clear that said person was a female by the voice. "If you're going to be this much of a pain in my ass about being late then fucking court-martial me! See what the Fuhrer Bradley says because I highly doubt he'll proceed with the court martial!"
"You were ord-"
"Like I cared for orders before now!" interrupted the hidden person, "You know as well as I do that I couldn't have made it back in time due to my location for my research. So, fuck off Grand! And if you have such a problem with it then talk to the Fuehrer, but you should well know that I was working with the Crystal Alchemist doing something with bioalchemy!"
Grand tensed and was physically shaking before he resigned himself to dealing with his frustrations for later. "Just follow your orders and do what you were brought here to do." The Iron-Blood Alchemist stormed off after throwing the alchemists assignment, revealing the formerly hidden figure, the person was indeed a female. As Grand walked by Mustang he glared at the younger. "And you!" he barked, "Learn to control your alchemy! You've been here for six months and you've injured a large amount of our own men due to not being able to control yourself!" The older stormed off angrily.
Returning his eyes to the female alchemist, Roy was able to see that she was relatively short, standing at approximately 5'3", maybe 4", tall. Her eyes were slightly bigger than most of the eyes that Mustang had ever seen before, giving off a youthful appearance with her round-shaped face. However, he could tell that she was packed with muscles, but was lean, incredibly so to the point that Mustang was easily able to take note of the female alchemist's bust. There was a pick-up in the wind, which caught the female alchemist's hair and blew it over her strong shoulders. The sight left Mustang in awe: her hair was deepest shade of black at the roots, but the color lighted the further away from the roots to the point of being a shade that resembled pure gold. To him, she was a like a breath of fresh air after all he had done so far.
Observing her, Mustang saw the one thing that he had yet to see besides his own family: her eyes. They were identical to his in shape, and the size differed. The general shape was exactly alike, something that his aunt said came from his mother, whose ancestors had come from a land across the desert to the east. It left him happy for a brief moment before he started to dread seeing the change. However, the shade of this alchemist's eyes seemed to sear right through: they were the shade of liquid silver. That was the big difference between their eyes. The innocent and lively look in her eyes was something that he knew would change because his had. So, how long would it before she got the eyes of a killer?
"What are you staring at, Flame?" she asked, as she walked towards Mustang.
He shook his head slightly and looked at her. "You know me?" he asked, slightly dazed.
She smiled slightly and laughed under her breath. "Who doesn't know about you? Your alchemy is truly unique, one of kind if I say so and I've seen a lot of alchemy."
"I guess my reputation beseeches me a bit," laughed Mustang, "However, I am truly ashamed because I don't know who you are."
"That means I've been flying really low under the radar since I've become a state alchemist, granted that was some time ago." Mustang quirked an eyebrow because she spoke like she had been an alchemist for years but didn't appear older than her early twenties. "I don't mind though, having so much attention kind of sucks after being awed at for years. But, hey, that comes with the territory of being the youngest state alchemist so far, as well as the only female state alchemist at the time, and youngest ranked military officer to reach the rank of Lt. Colonel."
Mustang looked at her, his eyes widening as he connected the dots. "You're the Quicksilver Alchemist?" It came out like question, but she had to be if she was stating that. "The Mackenzie J. Foxtrot, who became a state alchemist at the age of 15 and then began pursing a military career the following year that resulted with becoming the youngest female obtaining the rank of Lt. colonel.
"Unfortunately, guilty as charged. And, didn't I just saw that?"
"I'm sorry! I must look like an idiot," blushed Roy at his mistake.
She held out her right hand, which was laden with rings. "Don't worry about it! I'm Lt. Colonel Mackenzie J. Foxtrot, the Quicksilver Alchemist."
Obsidian stared at the hand for a second before realizing what it was for. He quickly took her hand into his, relishing in the warmth. "Major Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist."
"Pleasure to meet you," she smiled. It sent a chill down Roy's spine and for the briefest moment he felt alive again. Unburdened by all the death and destruction he caused.
"Likewise," he breathed quietly. Removing her hand from his, Mackenzie read her assignment, and just stared at the paper. "Uh, bad assignment?"
"There's nothing good about these assignments. We're being used as human weapons to kill off Amestrian citizens," she sighed sadly, "We're killing our own people. I don't want to see what will happen to us in the long run." Foxtrot looked into Roy's eyes and the Flame blinked trying to will away a blush. "I'll catch you around, okay." With that, the Lt. Colonel walked off towards an Ishvalan sector that held a lot of artillery and Ishvalan citizens.
"Hey wait!" Roy reached out slightly, "We're not supposed to go out at night, orders."
The small figure paused. White military issued jacket fluttering gently in the wind. "Your orders, yes. My orders state that my mission is to be finished by morning. Sleep well, Mustang." The female alchemist ran off into the fading sunlight towards the Ishvalan sector.
However, Roy couldn't sleep, but stayed awake and watched the sector fall apart within hours. Screams echoed for enough to reach the base camp that the alchemists stayed at. Occasional light would flash from the sector from the explosions and what looked like flames that rained down. Buildings crumbled, but Roy stayed up and watched on. He was so invested in watching the sector fall that he didn't sense a figure approaching him.
"What's going on there? Looks like alchemy if you ask me," the voice was damned recognizable at this point to Roy.
"That's because it is, Maes," whispered Roy. His eyes never leaving the sector that was giving off flames and smoke, as well as the screams of the dying. "The Quicksilver Alchemist was sent into that sector and ordered to have it decimated by tomorrow morning."
A low whistled escaped Maes lips. "If the Quicksilver Alchemist was brought to Ishval then the military really wants this war over soon. From what I hear, the Quicksilver Alchemist is a genius and prodigy of alchemy."
"That's what I've heard too. From what I'm seeing she is a prodigy because I've counted at least three different types of alchemy being used."
"She? The Quicksilver Alchemist is a she?" Maes watched his friend nodded his dark head in response only the moonlight offering any source of light. "Damn! That's impressive because her rank and experience. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from her." Another nod was all that was given as the night fell silent. "It looks like she's just about done."
The friends waited and watched as the sector disappeared. It literally was engulfed by surrounding the sand. Time was lost by this point, especially when a small figure in white approached the camp. It moved slow, tantalizing so. However, as the figure got closer and closer Roy could make out distinctive silver eyes that glowed in the moonlight, but he observed closely to see if her eyes changed. He was surprised that they hadn't yet: they remained child-like, innocent.
"You two should be in bed," she smiled weakly. Her clothes and body covered in grime and debris.
"That was the most difficult sector that we've been having issues with for a few months now. Not even the alchemists breeched it so easily since they had arrived."
"My specialty is alchemy in various forms after all," Mackenzie walked past the duo, "And the military only call me in when they are desperate. Good night."
It had been a few days since the Quicksilver Alchemist had arrived at camp. In that time, she had managed to disarm and completely destroy some of the harshest and deadliest sectors in hours when other alchemists couldn't do it in months. During the few days she had been there Roy's alchemy had become more unstable. Occasional, Foxtrot would talk with Roy and Maes, even Riza, but most times she would stick to herself. However, on this day Mustang was expecting her to save his ass.
"Major Mustang!" shouted Grand, "This is at least the twelfth time that your alchemy has torched our own troops and destroyed some of the artillery. How do you expect us to win this war? Not to mention how this presents yourself as useless alchemist that can't control his trade? Huh? Answer me major!"
It was true: Roy had a hard time concentrating and his alchemy wreaked havoc by accident. Mustang looked down and couldn't bring himself to answer his superior. However, a clearly feminine voice cut through and began shouting with Grand. "Why don't you leave the solider alone? We all make mistakes and for an alchemist, something you should know very well, our concentration is vital in order to transmute properly. With this war and how it affects our psych I don't doubt that Major Mustang has been having some minor issues with his alchemy."
"And why would you stand up for someone lower than yourself, Lt. Colonel?"
"Because I stand against assholes like you because at one point we were in Major Mustang's, as well as many others here, shoes."
"Lt. Colonel Foxtrot, you are being insubordinate to your commanding officer," warned Grand.
"My commanding officer is not you Grand, something you should know very well. As well as the fact that when it comes down to alchemy I own you. Now, leave the Major alone because his skills and affinity for flame alchemy is needed and valued."
Grand's moustache twitched in irritation. He knew that he couldn't do anything to the female alchemist because she was the key player that was winning this war in a matter of days when he and the other alchemists barely made a dent. "Fine, but you're paired with him to control his flames."
"Sir," mocked Foxtrot, as she saluted Colonel. She watched as the giant man marched away, irritation spreading throughout his being. After Colonel Grand was no where to be seen, Mackenzie turned her attention to Roy. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," mumbled Roy. He was embarrassed that someone younger than he and more talented had saved his sorry and pathetic excuse of an alchemist ass. "I owe you one for the save, but I don't want you to be around me when I transmute."
"Why?" counted Quick.
Clenching his hands by his side, Roy gritted his teeth and looked own. "I might hurt you with my flames. I can't – Not with this war."
"Flame alchemy that is produced through a pyrotex or ignition clothe spark and manipulated to follow the density of the air molecules," whispered the silver eyed alchemist, "That is how your alchemy works. Isn't it." That wasn't a question, but a statement based off pure observation.
Roy's eye widened, as his head snapped up and looked Quicksilver in the eyes. "H-How did you know? No one knows how flame alchemy works!"
"Simple: I use air manipulation a lot. So, I understand the mechanics of transmuting air, as well as the basic knowledge that flames need air to thrive. I'm kind of a prodigy, unfortunately." A ring land hand twisted in the long tail of the high ponytail that graced Foxtrot's head. "I won't tell other people of your alchemy, but I will be going with you on any future missions until you can control your alchemy. Pretty much," Mackenzie said as she spoke quick to cut Roy off from interrupting her, "I'll be putting an outer barrier from the targeted buildings or . . .People . . . that lacks oxygen, so the flames can't harm us or the other soldiers."
"I see," whispered Roy. He gazed down at his gloved covered hands and grimaced at the knowledge that someone had been able to see through his façade. "Thank you."
"It's okay Roy," smiled the other. It was gentle smile that Roy believe that he didn't deserve. "I'm here for you."
**A Few Weeks Later**
To say that his chest hurt was an understatement because it hurt like hell. The outline of his pocket watch design was bruised into his skin from the impact of the bullet. But, he should consider himself lucky because the damned watched saved his life after he had put out so many. Sitting on the ground in his tent, Roy rested his head in his hands. He had been doing so well until this. He heard the quiet steps of someone walking towards him, but it wasn't until he had head the flaps of his tent move. From his gaze, which was directed mostly between his at his feet, Roy mad out rather small feet.
"Don't shut done, not yet," spoked a kind and feminine voice, "Not when you've come so far, not when this war is almost over. I know that this war has been hell on a lot of us, but you have had a large weight on your shoulders due to your affinity in alchemy." A slight shuffle was heard before Mustang's felt warm hands resting on either side of his face that pulled his baby face up to look into liquid silver. "Don't shut me out, Roy."
Mustang closed his eyes. "It's horrible because all we do is kill. Why are we ordered to kill the people of our own country?" When no answer came Roy opened his eyes to glare into Foxtrot's. "How can you just say something like that? Feeling the consequences of one's actions when you don't even, Foxtrot. You don't seem to shed a tear for what you do or think twice about your orders. How?! How do you expect me to answer you when you can't even show what you're asking me to do?"
"Because I follow orders of the ones that decide and direct the orders to us. I, and the rest of us who have joined the military, have no choice but to follow the higher ups and their decisions. But, I do have the power to learn from my actions in order to mold a better future down the road," silver defiantly stared back into obsidian, "Even if I can't help now, and only cause death and destruction, I know that I won't be able to help later if I don't climb towards the top; if I don't climb then the lives that were lost were for no reason and will be forgotten. Maybe that's something that you need to strive yourself, Roy." The first name of the major comforting the owner in a way that made him feel human.
"What do you mean?"
"A purpose. Maybe you should set your eyes to the top and when the Fuehrer decides to name the next you'll be there and ready to accept the bid. Only we can change what happens from here. And yes, that includes killing at times when it doesn't make sense. But, in the end we will right wrongs. We can build a better future where this type of blood shed never happens again."
The words that Foxtrot told him rolled in his mind. "A goal to reach to top is farfetched and ambitious, senses that I've lost long ago."
"But you have the drive somewhere in you, I know you do. You want to make this nation great again? Then do it. Even if it means that your path is covered in blood because sacrifice is needed for something beautiful and auspice to occur. Remember: equivalent exchange means that you must destroy in order to create. You need purpose in order to move forward and to give back what you have taken or be lost to the destruction without giving something to others."
"Even if I wanted to, I don't think that I can. I'm broken."
Mackenzie jerked her hands to pull Roy closer to her face. "Then listen: even if you're broken you have my support. You have the support of others." Roy focused on the passion of Foxtrot's eyes and the ways that her emotions seemed to dance to life through her expressions. "Most of all you seemed to have captured my heart and that should give you something to fight for because it shows that some still have faith in you, Roy, as well you not being lost or as broken as you think." With that, Quicksilver kissed the Flame Alchemist gentle on his plump lips. It was electrifying to Roy, a reset to his system because everything in his being calmed. However, she withdrew herself as quickly as she kissed him and made her way towards the entrance to the tent. "When you're ready you know where to find me."
"What do I fight for?" thought Mustang. He brought his fingers to his lips and rubbed them gently. The tingling feeling still encompassing his lips. At that moment, Mustang's mind curled into itself as it thought of everything that had just happened. In that time, Maes Hughes had attempted to get Roy to the battle front. "Just," whispered Roy as his brain was still trying to piece together what had just happened between him and Foxtrot, "Give me . . . Give me thirty seconds."
"Thirty seconds, but that's it," spoke Maes. He withdrew his own pocketwatch and counted down. During that time, Roy thought of everything that Maes had said about loving Gracia. He thought about what Foxtrot said. He thought about his own morals and self. "That's thirty seconds," Hughes stated as he snapped the pocket shut, "On your feet, Flame Alchemist. We've got work."
Roy slowly brought his hands down before glaring up at the lightening sky: resolved carved into his face. "Yeah, let's go," growled Mustang. His pale hands sliding on his trademark gloves. "It's time for war."
**1909**
The train ride back to Central was seemed slow as four veteran soldiers rode in near silence. Maes stared at the scenery and was thoroughly enjoying not seeing any sand, but the green of grass and other foliage for the first time in almost a year. Next to him sat Riza, who just stared at the floor, gun in hand. On the other side of the car was Mustang; his dark eyes watching the individual next to him. To his left was Mackenzie, who wheezed and winced at the jerking motion of the train. "Fuck trains," she finally growled.
"To be fair, you should be lying down, Colonel Foxtrot," informed Hawkeye.
"I'm not taking up a whole seat. And don't refer to me as rank, Riza, because I consider you a friend."
The short haired blonde nodded in agreement. "As I see you a friend." Riza's eyes seemed dead from all that she did and had seen in Ishval. However, she did feel some hope with the way that Mustang had spoke to her prior to leaving. Being around Mustang gave Riza some hope and mad her heart clench.
Mustang blinked and felt guilt rising in him. "It's my fault you were hit by the bullet, so you sh-"
Silver glared at dark blue Xingese eyes. "For the last time, it wasn't your fault I was hit. It was my own choice." Mackenzie pressed her left hand onto her right side and winced, despite the sensation feeling good in the long run. "It'll be fine. Knox even said so. Besides, we're about to stop in Central. Also, quick lesson: don't let others see you for who you really are. Use a façade to protect your true self, especially now that you were promoted to Lt. Colonel."
"I can't wait to see Gracia," hummed Hughes. His excitement nearly uncontainable due to the fact that their train was pulling into the train station at Central City. "She promised to be waiting for me!"
"Aren't you lucky," the three single individuals of the car grumbled.
When the train jerked to a sudden stop, Quicksilver grunted slightly and closed her eyes tightly. The pain being willed away. Once it was almost gone, the dull ache never going away in her lower abdomen, she stood up with rest and gathered her bag. Hughes jumped out of the train car and looked for his beloved. While he looked, Hawkeye slipped away in the sea of white military issued uniform jackets leaving Roy and Mackenzie to look at Hughes embrace his future wife.
"What a lucky guy," whispered Foxtrot. She looked at Mustang and nodded slightly, "Lt. Colonel Mustang. If you ever need anything while you're in Central please don't be afraid to contact me." Rolling her lips slightly, Quicksilver pressed a piece of rumpled paper into Roy's outstretched hand, in which had been looking at his hand and thinking about his friend's strength. "Lt. Colonel, sir."
Mustang had been watching Hughes and Gracia as a sensation of jealous erupted in his chest. "Hughes, you're a strong man. A much stronger man than I'll ever be," thought the Flame, who believed that he had lost his chance to confess his feelings for the prodigy alchemist. However, something being pressed into his hand brought him from his thoughts. "What?" Roy realized paper had been placed in his hand. He looked for the smaller alchemist, only to see her back to him as she walked towards the exit of the train station; her odd colored hair resting in a high ponytail, but blowing casual in the wind. Looking back at the object in his hand, Roy realized that the paper held numbers on them. "A phone number," concluded the Flame. He tucked it away into the pocket of his military uniform before he disappeared amongst the sea of returning soldiers.
**1909 – A few weeks later**
Ring. Ring. Ring.
The phone jiggled from the vibrations that pulsed through it. With a groan, a ring laden hand searched for the receiver. It took a few seconds due to the throes of sleep still strong in Foxtrot's body. Finally reaching the receiver, she pulled it to her ear and licked her lips before speaking. "Hmmm, Co-Colonel Foxtrot spea-speak-ing," her voice laced with fatigue. Sleep had been rare since coming back to Central. Mackenzie knew how to appear as the perfect solider as she broke down internally; the war helped to keep the guilt and nightmares at bay because survival was first. However, now that the war was over there was no distraction.
"I-I," a distinct masculine voice choked on the other end, "I'm sorry. So sorry."
"Mustang? Lt. Colonel Mustang?" Sleep left Mackenzie's body quickly after hearing the man sound so broken. "Is that you Mustang?"
"Y-yeah," breathed Lt. Colonel, "I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry before . . ."
His voice trailed and that sent chill down Foxtrot's spine. She knew that a lot of alchemists and soldiers that had returned from the battle front were plagued with PTSD and many had committed suicide for their actions. "Roy, it's okay. Do you need me?"
"I'm sorry. It's all my fault. The flames, secret of my alchemy need to go," he whispered.
"What do you m-"
There was an audible click that signified that Mustang had hung up. "SHIT!" Foxtrot ripped off the covers to her bedding and ran through her small apartment. She knew where Roy lived thanks to meeting up with him by coincidence and thankfully it wasn't that far from her place. Without thinking the Colonel fled her apartment in pajamas and no shoes because something in her soul knew that something was going to happen. That something made her heart ache. Racing through the silent streets at 2 A.M was new, but the alchemists felt blessed because the streets weren't crowded as least. This allowed her to make it to Roy's apartment in no time. She pounded on the door. "MUSTANG!" She pounded harder. "ROY!" Glancing up she saw the silhouette of the man standing on the second story of his apartment. Using her rings, she transmuted a hole through the door for her to go through, after which she dashed upstairs and towards the light. "ROY! ANSWER ME!"
The door to the room that had the light was cracked open. Throwing her weight into it, Foxtrot stumbled into the room to see Mustang standing with his eyes closed and liquor bottle in hand. Most of all was the ignition clothe glove that covered his hand and was pointed closer to his body than normal. "I'll atone," mumbled the Lt. Colonel. Seeing the flick of Roy's fingers sent Mackenzie's brain into overdrive. She jumped at Roy and grabbed his hand, while redirecting the flames elsewhere. Pain. That was the first thing she registered as the flames licked at her exposed skin. "Go away!" yelled Mustang. His eyes not focusing on the present reality. As the liquor bottle fell it's contents dumped on the Foxtrot's legs, which led to the flames spreading easily over the naked skin. The two battled with the oxygen density. At times the flames intensified on her skin and she winced, but at others Quicksilver managed to dose them.
"Roy," breathed the female alchemist, "It's me, Mackenzie! You're safe! All is okay!"
It was like someone flipped the switch on in Mustang's head because his eyes widened when he realized who was grabbing onto him. The flames vanished. Panting, Mackenzie fell to her knees due to the air torturing her knew burns. "Mackenzie! I'm sorry!" He all but fell on her to check her wounds. "I'm sorry, I didn't . . . I wouldn't . . . I'm sorry!" The scent on alcohol on his breath made everything clear.
"It' fine. I'm fine. You're fine," she smiled. "Roy, let's get you to bed." Forcing herself up, despite the protest of the healing gunshot wound and new second degree burns, at the very least, she grabbed the Lt. Colonel's hands and pulled him towards his bed. "Sleep," she managed as she pushed him onto the unmade covers. Sinking to the floor, hissing slightly at the irritated skin, she held onto his hand.
"'m sorry! Never meant to hurt you. Never w-wanted to. Love you too much," confessed the drunk Lt. Colonel.
"As I love you, now sleep off this poison." Dark eyes watched her for a bit before falling to the stupor of drunk sleep. However, the pain that had surfaced from the burns and previous wound from Ishval had caused the Colonel to black out.
Sunlight spilled into the exposed room, right in a sleeping Roy Mustang's eyes. "Hmmmmm," he groaned. A hangover evident from the previous night's debauchery. He quickly covered his eyes with a pillow to hide from the light with his left hand. However, he felt something clenched in his right hand. Daring to look into the light, Mustang saw a sleeping Colonel Mackenzie J. Foxtrot resting upright with only her head on the bed. The light burned into Roy's skull, but he managed to see where her hand tangled with his and the burns that covered her arm. Obsidian eyes widened as the memories of last night poured in. Roy shot upright fast and looked over the edge to see what he could of the Colonel's body, hangover forgotten.
Her clothes were clearly singed and in some places were burnt through. What skin he could see was either discolored from smoke or flaming red due to the type of burn. "Oh my god." Mustang tentatively touched the burns as gently as he could, but Foxtrot winced from contact and shied away in her sleep. However, Roy felt the heat that still radiated from them. Being someone that specialize with flames Mustang knew that some of the burns were high grade and needed professional help. Carefully, Roy got up and picked up the younger to deposit her sleeping form onto his bed. "I'm sorry, M.J," the nickname being said for the first time. With that, the Flame retreated and dialed Dr. Knox for a house call.
"You better have a good reason for making me come out so early," complained the cranky doctor. He got to Roy's apartment with impeccable timing.
"It is, I assure you Dr. Knox." He showed the doctor to his room and just waited at the foot of the bed, while Knox went around and started observing the damage.
"You did a number on such a pretty girl," pointed out Knox, "A lot of second-degree burns, a few third degree burns near the thigh area, and a couple of patches that are close to third degree burns. Not to mention I'm sure the flames irritated her gunshot wound."
The guilt skyrocketed. Roy felt like complete and utter shit because he did have feelings for Mackenzie, but now she would never want anything to do with him. "I know," whispered Mustang, "It was a drunk accident that should never have happened." Knox grunted in agreement as he set his bag down and pulled out antiseptic and bandages. "She's been nothing but honest and kind with me, having my back at the worst of times and supporting me at my lowest. And this is how I repay her kindness. I'm a monster."
"Calling yourself a monster is a little far. Foxtrot will live from this, but she will retain scars in the more severe areas." Knox used a gently touch to slather the antiseptic into place, but only wrapped the worst of the wounds to prevent infection. "Make sure she doesn't pop the blisters and that the bandages are changed every few hours. Also, Foxtrot should take these," Knox handed Mustang a bottle of pills, "To numb the pain. When Quicksilver wakes up get her into a cool bath and change her clothes when she's done! She's going to need help for a bit, but I think you're the only person she would want."
"Why?" counted Mustang. His eyes looking over the pill bottle with disdain because he knew it was his fault for this.
"You'll find out, but if you'll excuse me."
Roy escorted Dr. Knox out of his apartment. He bid the doctor a good day, then returned to his bedroom to watch the sleeping alchemist. Every burn and patch of irritated skin was accounted for. Each deep breath and movement of Mackenzie's lean chest was observed. The way her eyes moved while dreaming, as well as how her noise twitched. Every single detailed mesmerized Roy. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he murmured, "It's my fault why you're like this and it hurts me to know that I caused this to you because I . . . I love you." He finally said it, sober, and the heartache in his chest grew. "I should have told you that in Ishval, but I didn't. I should have told you on the train, but I was a coward. Now, it may be too late for me to have you because of what I did to you. But you deserve better than someone that only brings you pain."
"Or," a cracked mumble echoed softly to Roy's ears, "I just stay, say I love you back, and we go from there." Mustang looked up and saw heavily lashed eyelids cracked to reveal tired silver irises. Those words made Roy's heart beat so hard he thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest. "If I wasn't so panicked on saving you then I would have redirected the oxygen density away. This is my own doing be-"
"But I started the flames. I thought that ending my life would equal all those I took.:
"Then you're an idiot – my idiot – but an idiot nonetheless. One life doesn't equal a mass of lives, but your actions can equal the lives you took. As will mine." A weak hand reached up for Mustang's, who quickly gripped the outstretched limb. "But, this situation is my own fault because you make my head spin . . . Make my heart beat so hard that I think it will just pop out of my chest or break my ribs . . . I can't think clearly around because there's something about you."
A smile spread on Mustang's lips as each one of Mackenzie's words was absorbed into some part of his brain. "Funny because it's the same way with you to me. Hell, my chest is throbbing because you're so close. There's just something about you that makes me lose my touch with reality."
"Maybe we should work this out?" offered the prodigy.
"Yeah, I'd like that. I'd like that a lot actually."
The most beautiful smile that Roy had ever seen graced itself on Mackenzie's lips. This connection between them was something that Roy never someone could have with someone else. Maybe this is how Maes felt with Gracia, and if it was then he realized why the taller man gushed so much. "I love you"
"And I'm sure this feeling in my chest – despite not being doctor – means that I love you."
The firm squeeze of their hands solidified their feelings, as the feelings of guilt faded to be replaced with the urge to kiss the younger grew strong in the Flame. Falling prey to his urges, Mustang gave Foxtrot a gentle kiss to her temple. This was the first of many kisses and tender moments to come.
Fav, Follow, comment!