Dreams of the Night
Summary: Roy's having nightmares again, but this dream differed to all the others. Is better than it sounds?—I hope so.
Author's note: Kinda based on the episode in Brotherhood in which Hohenheim has a dream. And thanks to my beta, Ciel in a dress aka Nichola.
Disclaimer: I do not own FMA. Why would I? Also, there are some quotes that come from the manga/anime.
The nightmare came that night, as it did every night.
The blood-red sunset would have set flutters of delight through young lovers' hearts, but to the solitary man standing in the shadows, it saddened him.
For after a day which has been all shades of red, the colour begins to become an omen.
Red is the colour of the sunset and sunrise.
Red is the colour of his flames.
Red is the colour of the ink on his gloves.
But crimson is the colour of blood.
Crimson is the colour that flows from wounds the army inflicts.
Crimson is the colour that stains the land.
Crimson is the colour that haunts his dreams.
Crimson is the colour that came out of a little girl's head which he shot to save her the pain.
He couldn't forget the girl, nor all the others he had killed. He leaned against a wall that had been badly hit by the continuous bombing. Those whose souls he had released swam before his eyes. There was the little girl with her leg and arm blown off; there was the old man with a scar on his left arm. There was the scared looking woman carrying the baby; there was the Ishbalan warrior that killed half of his men before he finally died. There were old, there were young. There were those who fought, there were those resigned to fate. He remembered them all.
But he couldn't figure out why this merciless slaying had to go on.
He just wanted it to stop. Just to goddamn stop!
"When you wore this, of your own will, weren't you already prepared? If you don't like it, you shouldn't have worn it in the first place." Mustang could not fail to recognise the sound of Kimblee's voice, to see the ever-present smirk. "Don't avert your eyes away from death. Look forward. Look at the people you're killing, in the face. And don't forget them. Don't forget. They won't forget you either."
"Are you saying that this killing is justified?" Mustang shouted.
"No it isn't," came a softly spoken voice from behind him. He turned around, and recognised Hawkeye.
"Than what am I doing here? Can I stop this madness?" he asked.
"Not now, but when you become Fuhrer you can. You can change everything," replied Hawkeye.
"But I want it to end. I want this pain to end. I want this killing to end. I want my life to end," Mustang told her softly.
"You have two perfectly good legs to move forward on. I suggest you use them." A voice suggested from the opposite direction. Even before he turned around, he knew who it was. Fullmetal. "Ending your life will not only be a complete waste, but it would sadden the others as well. Don't you know that Hawkeye is worried for you? Breda is worried for you? Falman, Havoc, and Fuery are all worried for you, and all you can think of is taking your life. You disgust me, Colonel Bastard."
"He is right. We are here for you. And we will always be. After all, you need our help to become Fuhrer, right?" Hawkeye said. "Come with us." And she reached out her hand.
Shakily, Mustang put his hand forward. The moment the tips of their fingers touched, he woke. Unsteadily, he sat up in bed.
'Hmm,' he thought. 'For once, it wasn't actually a nightmare.'
This is my first fanfiction, please review!