Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa. I simply delight in torturing good characters. This disclaimer will serve for the entire collection herein.
Part 1
Point of View: Roy Mustang
Word Count: 720
10 December 1920
In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.
-Martin Luther King, Jr.
Enduring Blindness
I had never met a man like Edward Elric. There was an aura about him; you could simply tell that he had seen a lot in his life, met despicable people, but he still, somehow, believed in humanity. He believed there was light in the world.
I met Edward when he was twelve. Even having done the forbidden and paying dearly for it, one would think he would have given up, avoided alchemy forever. Yet the opposite occurred - he gained drive, determination. He appeared in my office with steel limbs and a steel brother and a mischievous grin. I wanted to help him to achieve his goals, would aid him in any way - but I found myself begging a god I didn't even know: please, please, do not let him pass that test…
But of course he did; was there ever any doubt that he would pass?
It did not take long for the darker side of the world to make itself known to him. I would like to say I was being a realist, but I was really trying to be the heartless bastard he always proclaimed me to be - anything to drive him from the hellish path of the military. Either way I left him drowning in the rain and the sorrow.
And yet he kept going, and I both hated and admired him for it. I wished he would stop, retire, although it was not in his nature to do so. I wished he would accomplish his goals quickly, so he could leave that much faster and take all his color with him. I wished he would stay, forever, because no one had ever reminded me so forcibly of why I had to become what I was. Such sentiments devoured me even as they fed my will to live.
He would appear in my office for debriefing grimy from travel and frustrated by lack of progress. No matter what I wished - to brush the dirt off his face, to put my hand on his shoulder, to comfort him, to make him at ease - I remained behind my desk, remained formal, and allowed propriety and probing insults to fill the space between us.
So our relationship went, but eventually it metamorphosized, and those unorthodox conversations carried with them an odd sort of affection - or so I liked to believe. Nothing changed, until the Promised Day, when everything changed, as there things are wont to do.
I remember when he came into my hospital room, when he told me what he sacrificed. Though the world was dark to my eyes, it was as if everything had gone white - as if the world glowed a sickly hue. I remember begging him to tell me he was joking, that there was some mistake. I babbled. I reminded him that alchemy was his blood, his air; I said I couldn't imagine him without it; I revealed my hopeless affection for him, how I had enjoyed his company. He remained silent as I spoke, let me fall into incoherency. I wished I could see his face, and my words died on my tongue.
And to all of this, he only said, "I know."
Then he very quietly told me that he was leaving the military, going home to take care of his brother and visit his mechanic. He said he would write to his friends in Central, that he would visit.
I felt the warmth of his skin as he squeezed my hand - tried not to think that this was the second? third? time we had touched - and he was gone.
I haven't seen him in three years.
Oh, Hawkeye has, and Havoc and Breda have both received letters. Fuery got a picture of their dog's puppies, which he proudly displays on his desk. I have yet to receive a phone call.
Gracia spoke to Alphonse today. Apparently, Edward has been very busy. I selfishly hope that he has just been growing accustomed to his new life, but I know that the blonde mechanic is also the cause. I would have thought he would have at least told me something. Anything. I would not believed Edward Elric to be a coward.
But who knows what the future holds?
We shall see. I shall see.