Title: Thought I Was Dead
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Author: ice shredder
Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
Short oneshot based off of episode 8 of FMA. Edward's POV right after being rescued by Al and the MPs from the clutches of that insane serial psycho/killer Barry the Chopper.
Enjoy and don't forget to review! :)
"I thought I was dead. I was so scared...all I could do was scream..."
My body won't stop shaking. Cuts decorate my left arm, thanks to that psychotic butcher. Kuso, I just came from dealing with that deranged madman Tucker. Now this?
How much more can my mind take of these horrors that fuel the nightmares sure to follow.
That yaro almost killed me...nearly took me away from my little brother. Winry almost died. A blind swing. A clang of metal. And a soft, gentle voice I knew so well.
"It'll take a lot more than that to kill me."
Al. My bloody fingers scrape the dirty floor of the butcher shop tears dripping down my face wetting the dirt between my hands. My whole body was numb and for the second time in my life (since that dark Day we tried to play God) I ached for my brother to scoop me into those metal arms and cradle me close.
Except I knew he didn't fully trust his far greater strength in that armor. Afraid of hurting me even by mistake. It'd devastate him.
"Are you hurt brother?"
Yes. And I want you to make it stop. Even for a few minutes. But that wasn't his burden to bear. It's mine. If I could just...just...yanno...GAH get these stupid tears to shut off I'll be fine. Really.
WHY WON'T THEY STOP COMING?
I felt Al's gentle touch on my shoulder and lost it. Pick me up Al. Hold me. I don't care if that makes me a wimp right now. Kuso! I'm so weak, such an idiot and I almost failed Winry...
After Nina, I lost the stomach to fail anyone I could help within my power again.
Somehow we find ourselves out of that slaughterhouse, but I felt like a sleepwalker. The only tangible thing holding the frayed ends of my sanity was Al's solid comforting prescence sitting motionless next to me on the top step. Everything's muted. The MPs bustling around, taking Barry into custody with Hughes directing traffic. Winry being freed. All I can focus on is the brown sun-warmed stone of the stair my feet are glued to.
Al laments his lack of a physical body. Of not being able to feel my terror, my lonliness of facing death and my bangs droop lower blocking out the world except my need to be held by my little brother intensifies. And he'd do it in a heartbeat but we're in public and there's too many eyes for me to be comfortable.
"We're not gods. We're just insignificant human beings who couldn't even save a little girl."
The words dribble out of my mouth like heavy grains of sand and I make no attempt to retreive them. Because it's the truth. The day I learned life would never follow my orders.
END