I see so many holes in this story. But, ah, if you see them as well, just indulge me tonight? This is kind of a combination of the anime and manga, but I added and removed some details from both storylines. Artistic license and all, you know. ;
Btw - this is melodrama in its purest. Consider yourselves warned.
#5: To a City in Ruins
by Maaya
Hawkeye could recall some things from the war better than she could with the last five minutes at any moments, any normal day. She couldn't remember the smell, like the rumours said many people did. She had been a sniper, further away from the action. While she thought that she had possibly been pained by the thick stench of burned bodies, the memory couldn't get past the stage of dim perhaps-imagination.
She could, however, at any time, give a throughout description of the rifle she had been assigned.
A Savage 110FP, okay weight, loose trigger, accurate, over all a decent work of art, suited for long action. There had been several dents on the rifle butt. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine every dent and mark it had showed after weeks of steady use.
She had detested that rifle.
It had made it easy for her to kill. She could tone out the fact that with every well-aimed shot, she stole a human life. For as long as possible, she had hold on to the thought that the humans were bodies, a piece of meat. It didn't work in the end, but at least it offered her some time without utterly loosing her self-respect.
When Hawkeye woke from that illusion, she was painfully aware of why her mother and father had told her weapons were the devices of the devil.
They had firmly been against everything military, lived in a small village a couple of miles away from a larger suburb to Central. They had been stern, serious people and somehow managed to keep their reputation as calm loners, even with three sons and one daughter to keep track of.
Hawkeye had been the youngest of the siblings by several years. The oldest, Thomas moved out when she had been just a toddler and lived somewhere in the South now, had broken all ties with the family when their parents had died. Marcus and Andrew had been closer to her, five and six years older. They hadn't minded to bring her along sometimes when they played so she had gotten to know more of the older boys rather than the children her own age. Problematic, because by the time she started school she had been lonely. The older boys only played with her when it suited their needs.
Her parents showed her the soldiers that passed through the village sometimes, and they explained death. They didn't want her to become someone that served the military ruled government. A Soldier. A killer. Hawkeye hadn't wanted to, either.
She had met Maes and Roy when she was sixteen. They were talking about joining the forces. Their eyes gleamed with a far-away look, eyes that spoke of boyish dreams of fame and heroic deeds.
Roy's alchemy had fascinated her. He'd created sparks with gloves his mother made, to impress her. He'd flirted with her in the beginning, was miffed when she didn't fall for him the way the rest of the females did, and stopped soon. Maes had been all warm smiles, goofy faces and knowing looks. She liked them both very much.
They stayed together, graduated, talked about the future.
Hawkeye wasn't sure why she had decided to follow the boys into the military world. Perhaps it had been concern for the boy, he who still relied on his mother to create what was needed to perform his precious alchemy.
She hated weapons, but learned that sometimes, they were needed. She was natural, became a sharpshooter, notorious for her good aim. She learned to live with what her parents had been disgusted with.
Then war came.
Maes, with his poor sight, requested a desk job. Hawkeye approved, he was safe there. She was more worried about Roy, who as a National Alchemist seemed to feel he had to go. She followed him, didn't trust him to be able to take care of himself.
And somewhere along the line, she woke up and realized that what they were doing was nothing more than slaughter. The National Alchemists were given something, she didn't know the details, and it would amplify their powers. She watched as the alchemy Roy has been so proud of, became a tool for easy executions. They were in war, she knew logic, but the Ishvarites didn't stand a chance. Hadn't from the start.
Hawkeye had aimed her gun at each of the alchemists in secret, lying hidden like the sniper she was. Even at Roy .Her trigger finger hadn't trembled. Her insides had.
She never fired of course. But sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she had. Perhaps the war could have ended more peacefully. Perhaps fewer innocents could have died. There was no way of knowing.
One of the things Hawkeye remembered clearly from the war was the rifle. The other was the night after the final massacre. She had been tired of seeing death and too many burned bodies. The camp was strangely quiet and she had been walking, looking for Roy.
She'd spotted him, and thought that he; this man, had been among the ones to annihilate the remaining Ishvarites.
His face had been pale. She clearly remembered the self-disgust in his eyes.
Hawkeye had stepped up to him and in silence they looked at the remains of what once had been a city.
In the privacy of her mind, she apologized. Hawkeye apologized because she had not been able to kill the man beside her. And she apologized because she couldn't regret her choice.
"Major," she said when she couldn't bear her own mind any longer. She waited until he snapped out of his daze. "You should get something to eat."
"Ah." He blinked.
They left their apologies with the ruins and walked away.
end