Posted: August 1, 2006

Disclaimer: I do not own anything FMA related.

Note: This is written for the 11 reasons comm at live journal (link can be found in my profile). The point of this community is to write 11 reasons for a general theme of your choice. Each reason must adhere to a certain theme that is chosen from a table of themes.

11 Reasons General Theme: 11 Reasons They Can Never Be Truly Happy

: I do not own anything FMA related.This is written for the 11 reasons comm at live journal (link can be found in my profile). The point of this community is to write 11 reasons for a general theme of your choice. Each reason must adhere to a certain theme that is chosen from a table of themes.: 11 Reasons They Can Never Be Truly Happy

Title: Fire and Ice

Theme: Poetry

Summary: While he stands tall and hard as stone, she will withold her tears.

Credits/Thanks: First off I'd like to thank rainjoyous for betaing for me! You are amazing! I'd also like to give credit where credit is due. The poem that this story revolves around is Fire and Ice by Robert Frost. The other poem, of which only a few stanzas appear, is Forget Not Yet by Thomas Wyatt.

Fire And Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.

The sky, ironically enough, was grey. Yet, no fat droplets of rain fell to spatter the congregation of people - hide the despair that poured down their cheeks. They were instead forced to bow their heads and shadow their faces beneath the brims of their hats -providing they had thought to bring such an article of clothing. A few strong individuals stared upwards.

The sky was a heavy grey - the kind of grey that settled over everyone's heads, paralleling the gloom that had made hostages of their minds. As such, there was a general numbness among the group, as if someone had thrown a blanket over them, leaving them blind while still vulnerable to pain through their other senses, which had heightened in the absence of sight.

Riza Hawkeye swallowed around her distress, willing the lump in her throat to the depths of her soul. There she could lock it away, let it freeze with time, and never allow it to be thawed. If she had her way, she would not be here.

Beside her, Edward Elric stared helplessly forward with an unfocused gaze. The golden irises of his eyes were clouded over with grief and his mouth was turned downward into a lost frown. His hand tightly grasped his brother's - a contact that he needed very desperately.

The woman smiled sympathetically at the sight, her eyebrows drawn downward in distress as she tried to comprehend the child's pain. Edward was still a child at heart, despite the numerous hardships he had overcome.

Riza had to wonder how many more losses it would take for the Full Metal Alchemist, acclaimed for his empathy, to shut down and never restart.


From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.

Roy Mustang was dead - he had died a hero in the line of duty - and this was his funeral. Riza repeated the phrase in her mind repeatedly as she stared at Edward. For some unfathomable reason the truth would not touch her. It instead opted to remain an elusive equation that she just couldn't manage to decode no matter how hard she tried.

She kept expecting him to show up, a frown on his face, and say, "You missed work without informing me," and then fall into a companionable silence and stare into the distance with that troubled squint in his eye that she had seen so often in the last few months of his life. In retrospect, the woman wondered if perhaps Roy had known his life was nearly over… Riza internally shook herself of the notion and returned her attention to the procession at hand; some things were better left unknown.

The priest that was leading the ceremony spoke in monotone, his tone carrying over the muffled wails of those that were present. Somehow, his lack of enthusiasm seemed fitting in a twisted sort of way.

Roy had possessed no passion for religion or anything that it stood for; likewise, religion had held no enthusiasm for him.

A light breeze crawled among the people, encouraging them to pull their coats tighter against their bodies, just as the priest asked if anyone wished to speak. Riza ducked her head and side-glanced at Ed, who was pulling a sheet of paper from his pocket and stepping forward. His eyes were squinted in a wince against an invisible beam of light and his steps were uneven and tentative, as if he were in shock.

"I'd like to say something," the boy said in a quiet voice that really didn't suit him at all.

The priest said nothing and stepped aside, bowing his head in consent. A drop of rain fell between the two men as the priest relinquished his control to Ed, hands clasped in front of his navel and gaze dropped respectively.

Riza stared at the small blonde as he drew in a shaky breath, and noticed that his chin was shadowed in a thin veil of stubble. His eyes were outlined with two dark bags. It seemed that not even the clouds above could hide the disarray of Ed's appearance.

The mother in her wanted to reach out and pull him into a hug, cradle him as he finally let down his barriers and cried. The part of her that identified as Roy's friend wanted to tell Ed to smile, that Roy wouldn't want him to be like this, and that part of her that was friends with Ed wanted to stand by and wait for him to come to her. She opted to stand by the last option, tall and sturdy.

"I don't think anyone knew this," Edward began after he had finally drawn himself together. "Not that he kept it a secret; I think it probably just never came up." He stared over the paper at the people, his eyes meeting Riza's briefly before flitting to the ground, and he continued, "But Roy really liked poetry. I remember lots of times we'd sit at home in the study, reading. I read books about alchemy mostly while Roy would pore over these huge volumes of poetry. He read tons of stuff. Actually…" Ed smiled half-heartedly, as if remembering something, and said, "I remember him telling me once that most of it was crap.

"But sometimes he would find something that he really liked…a lot. He said it was worth searching through all the bad stuff to find the amazing stuff." Ed stopped to smile and let his eyes fall to the ground thoughtfully. "It was kind of cute. Whenever he found something he really liked, he would ask me to listen to him read it.

"Most of the time he would act like he didn't really care if I heard it, but he did. It was in the way he would just kind of deflate if I told him I was busy…" A deep breath was drawn. "I guess, I thought that reading his favorite for him one last time would be…appropriate." Ed stopped, his voice cracking on the last word, and he stared up at the sky. His eyes were pleading - desperate -, as if he were trying to make a deal with God - as if he were asking to have Roy returned to him.

After a long stretch of silence, in which everyone watched the boy before them with pity, Edward dropped his gaze to the paper, opened his mouth, and recited,

"Forget not yet the tried intent
Of such a truth as I have meant
My great travail so gladly spent
Forget not yet.

Forget not yet the great assays,
The cruel wrongs, the scornful ways,
The painful patience in denays
Forget not yet.

Forget not yet thine own approved,
The which so long hath thee so loved,
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved..."

Edward's voiced folded into sudden silence as his eyes fell closed in a pained wince, and he whispered, "Forget not this."


But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate

Riza blinked back tears as the short blonde forced a smile and walked back to his brother's side, where he carefully refolded the paper and deposited it into his pocket with loving tenderness.

She refused to cry.

If Edward was not crying, then she would refrain from doing so as well.

Her eyes remained on the boy through the remainder of the service and she wondered if he would cry. The scenario was eerily similar to Hughes' funeral, the woman realized, as she found herself remembering Roy's words.

"It's raining."

She smiled softly and ignored the priest as he closed the service with a few final words, dismissing the crowd and letting them know where the reception would be held. Even so, it wasn't until Havoc's hand had settled in the crook of her elbow and was pulling her away from the grave - away from Edward and Alphonse, who had remained as well - that Riza finally realized it was over.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" she asked, pulling Havoc to a stop beside her when they were out of hearing range of the brothers. The pair turned to survey both Edward and Alphonse. The older had still not shed a tear.

Havoc stared at Ed somberly and nodded. "He's strong."

"But how many more times will he have to lose people before…" The woman with blonde hair and brown eyes trailed away, her eyes landing on the ground between them. She wished it would rain so she could cry. But she couldn't, not while Edward still stood strong.

"My Grandfather once told me that those dealt the worst hands are the only ones capable of enduring the resulting hardships," Havoc murmured absently. It seemed as if he were just understanding the phrase for the first time.

"Still, he deserves some happiness." The sky darkened slightly and Riza shivered as a cool wind whipped against her legs.

"He had some, even if it was only for a short while." Havoc noticed the doubt on Riza's face and continued, saying, "The two of them probably had more happiness in the small time they were together than most people have in a lifetime."

The woman glared at him and crossed her arms. Her irritation at the remark was obvious as she firmly replied, "Don't try to placate me with clichés, Havoc. We both know that's not true."

"The world doesn't just stop because you lose those you care about. It keeps going and eventually you pick yourself up and go with it. Ed's capable of doing that, as he's proved that time and time again." Havoc placed a hand on the small of her back and turned her away from the two desolate boys.

Riza snorted. "Did you learn that one from your brother as well?" she asked.

"Maybe," Havoc replied, his lips lifting into the traces of a smirk. "Let's head over to Gracia's now. They'll show up when they're ready."

It was a tempting offer but she wanted to stay a moment, see for herself that Ed really was going to be fine. "You go ahead." Riza stepped out of Havoc's grip with a reassuring smile and watched as he turned away with a shrug.

To say that for destruction ice
Is also great

When Havoc was over the hill and out of sight, Hawkeye turned to watch the brothers again, only to see that Alphonse had left Edward's side and was coming towards her.

"Lieutenant," he greeted in a hushed tone.

"Riza, please," she requested and let her gaze travel to Ed. "How's he holding up?"

"Fine, I guess." Alphonse joined Riza in her observation of his brother, his glowing red eyes dimming with concern.

"He didn't cry," the woman noted. Her face was serious and she wondered what would be Edward's final destruction, his passion or his eventual shutting down of emotions.

Edward turned his head to look at her and Riza caught a whiff of the boy's scent, oil and metal. "No, nii-san rarely does anymore."

The two held each other's gazes a moment longer, connected through their common concern for Edward, and when they finally broke their staring match, both turned to watch the blonde alchemist once again.

It came as a shock for Riza when she realized that he was lying down beside the headstone, crying internally though no tears fell from his eyes. Riza felt warmth upon her cheeks and she bit her lip to keep from making any noise.

He had forgotten how to cry long ago it seemed, and it appeared he was crying in the only way he knew how.

And would suffice.

AN: Long reviews make my pants happy and they save the ozone layer (don't ask how). So...leaving a long review that gives me insight on how I can improve would be(insertanother word for poop)awesome!
-TJ