knowledge of Fullmetal Alchemist is required for this story and it helps to have seen the last episode of the entire show.
i'll have everyone know i did extensive research on anemia and such related things to this story. I'M SO PROUD OF MYSELF! sniff
HUGE SPOILERS! In fact, this whole entire next part basicallydetails the whole last episode. I forgot i wrote it that way (cause i have the story written down in a little book thing. its been a while since i've read what i've written) GO AWAY IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE ENDING!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, its characters, logos, themes, automail, items, rights, etc. There are direct quotes in here, but I made this story up to bridge a gap.
This story wasn't meant to be set in chapters, but oh well...
(author: thanks so much to the first five people who reviewed the first part i installed! Personally, i hate yaoi and improper stuff like that. So thanks for reading my story when there are so many others out there (and quite a few aren't oriented right...)...I appreciate the encouragement!Love you!
OKAY HERE WE GO, ENOUGH SHOWS OF GRATITUDE (mustang: it's about me, not you Pishivee)
"Hawkeye," I inquired one day, "where are the Elrics?" She thought for a moment. "No one has seen them for a while. Do you want me to send a letter to Resembool?"
"I'd like that." That last meeting I had with Ed felt so final. I haven't seen Alphonse in an even longer time. Did they succeed? I was sure they would have told me about something like that. What greater news is there than to say you're back in your own body?
The door opened. In walked the goon squad, chirping "Hello, General!" and "How do you feel?" and "Congrats!" I smiled weakly. I didn't know how quiet this room had been.
"Will you tell us about it, sir?" Kain Fuery asked excitedly.
"We were worried about you, you know that?" Heymans Breda said gruffly.
Vato Falman asked, "It's been three weeks now. Any improvement?"
"Can you walk yet?" Jean Havoc added.
"Boys," Lieutenant Hawkeye said sternly, "calm down! Give him some time to answer!"
I just looked at them. I sighed in relief after a moment. "I'm glad you didn't bring Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong," I told them.
They froze. "He's down the hall," whispered Havoc, "He was looking in on someone el—"
"General Mustang!" Lt. Col. Alex Louis Armstrong exclaimed in his bass voice, bursting into the room.
For my safety and to keep my hospital stay to a minimum, the other officers pleaded with that 'gentle' giant not to touch me. "After all," 2nd Lt. Breda claimed, "you always say it's a person's fault if they're weak because they're not training!"
"How do expect the poor General to train in his condition, Lt. Col.?" asked Havoc.
"You care too much, sir," Fuery said.
"Care?" I could tell Armstrong was going to go into one of his speeches. "Care?" he said, "Of course I do! Were you not concerned for him when you know his encounter with Bradley was a life-risking event? It'd be a shame to lose such a great man, don't you agree?" They grinned awkwardly.
"Uh…thank you, Lt. Col.," I stammered, feeling myself blushing.
There was silence for a bit, and then the warrant officer Falman inquired again, "Will you tell us about it, sir?"
I thought about whether I was ready to tell them or not. I decided yes. I assumed they'd already heard about what happened in Central since they returned from the north. I told them about the diversion; Hawkeye went right to the front door and I went around back, to the wine cellar.
I drew a sealing circle on the door to the cellar. When Bradley came down to investigate the noise, the door closed and stuck behind him. I confronted him immediately, each of us exchanging questions before we fought.
I shuddered, remembering that eye, but I continued (Author: reference to the way the eye rolls down).
He told me about his powers and claimed he brought greatness to this country. I told him I knew about the wars started to fuel the creation of the Philosopher's Stone. He said humans were stupid and we need the Homunculi.
Describing the fight, I recounted that I couldn't make fire for a time because his sword broke my control of the air with its swiftness. When I finally managed it, I didn't really have control over the fire and it blew up the cellar wall.
"As I lay there, I watched and listened to King Bradley talk about the fact that he's never even seen the full extent of his abilities. I watched his burned skin heal before my eyes and it was then I stated to feel desperate.
"I got up, but he caught up to me and pinned me to the wall, via here," I stopped, motioning at the place above my heart. I grimaced as they flinched, remembering the pain and shock I received.
They looked like they were in agony as I depicted how he slid his sword horizontally in the puncture he'd made. I conveniently left out how I screamed; they could probably figure out that detail for themselves.
"Then he left me there because that's when his son ran into the room. Bradley talking soothingly to him, but then it looked like he literally froze. He asked the boy what he was holding. The kid said something about getting a treasure out of a safe to rescue it from the fire. He said he knew how much Father cared about it, that his life depended on it.
"Bradley unfroze and hot very angry. He started strangling his kid. I found the strength to remove the sword from my body. The bag the boy was holding had fallen out of his hands and onto the floor.
"I picked it up. Inside could only have been the former Fuhrer's, Bradley's, skull."
Some of the auditors cringed here. I went on to say how I drew the symbol on my gloves onto my bare hand with my blood, holding the skull with that hand.
"I finally had control over the air. He couldn't do anything to me because I held his weakness. I incinerated him. When there was nothing left of a body, I rid the world of his remains as well.
"With that accomplished, I picked up the boy and exited the house. On the doorstep, I looked up and saw a very strange silhouette approaching. My vision was getting foggy and it was hard to concentrate, but I knew I had to get away. The problem was, I couldn't go back into the house and I could never outrun this bizarre thing. I was prepared to die, that's all I can really say."
"General Mustang," Armstrong boomed, approaching me (and the rest of us feared for me because he always gets emotional with these kind of stories), "your deed will never be forgotten and you will serve as an inspiration to us all!"
I braced myself, and I was sure I would be getting out of the hospital very much later than originally planned, but he merely gently shook my hand.
"I am honored to call you General, sir," the Lt. Col. said in his sonorous tone. Despite his outbreaks and tirades, it could get to me sometimes how deeply the man cared.
"Thank you," I said quietly. He moved away. This being one of those rare times one of his orations actually affected the surrounding people, the other officers either bowed, shook my hand, or both, each watching the others in order to deduce what kind of respect to award me.
"Thanks," I restated, "but stop it already! I'm not in uniform yet." That said, I had a fleeting thought about changing the dress code to pajamas. We'd never be taken seriously again.
"Sir," said Falman, now that the slightly sappy, yet profound emotional episode was over, "you have a decision to make."
"Already?"
"Yes, but I think I know what your decision will be anyway. The State would like to know the future of the seat of power. As you are aware, the military has been in control of this country since the former Fuhrer claimed he would take over to save and better the country.
For the sake of safety and democracy, the State would like to know if you will hand the government back to it. They hope you will be content with being under them. The people are on the State's side, sir," he concluded, bowing at the neck.
I knew what he wanted me to say, what they all wanted me to say, but I let them sweat a little before answering, "Why the hell would I want to run a country?"
Smiling, the warrant officer exclaimed, "Of course, sir! I shall write a letter to inform them, but I'll need you signature."
"Sure," I said, "but you don't need to run off right this minute."
However, Falman felt it should be attended to more urgently than I realized. "No, sir," he said, "I think this should be put out immediately. This will mean a lot to the people." He left. In the month that was to follow, an official address would be delivered to the public and the power was to shift. I would get many more gratitude messages.
"That woman that changes my bandages is going to come in soon," I remembered, "I'm just warning you that she'll order you all out."
"Does it still look bad?" asked Master Sergeant Fuery.
"Bad?" said Havoc before I could answer, " I bet it's still oozing pus and everything! You wanta look at it, Fuery?"
"It is kind of gross," I admitted. The first time the nurse let me see my damage face-to-face I was instantly nauseated.
"She puts this ointment on it sometimes," I informed them, and really tried to express how it felt when I continued, "It hurts like hell. I imagine my skin is shriveling up when she does that."
"You know it's for the best, sir," Hawkeye counseled.
"Hmph," I answered in disgust, "I suppose."
As I predicted, the nurse came in, ordered my men out, changed the bandages on my head and chest (and, thank my lucky stars, didn't subject me to the mortal pain of medicines), left, and in came my comrades once again. A pungent stench always lingered in the room when my wounds were open to the air.
Now we talked about small things, discussed the future, and did some reminiscing.
No letter had been received from Resembool yet. Repairs were underway at Central Headquarters. Havoc had a new girlfriend.
It was amazing how fatigued I could still manage to become (well, maybe three weeks was hardly enough time for me to become significantly healed). And all I was doing was either laying or sitting in bed! It took me a moment to realize I was nodding. I stopped and pretended I hadn't been.
Havoc was babbling about how he thought this girl might just be the one for him, including that it was me who either dragged him away from one or 'stole' his girl because there was naturally more to like about me (as if I would ever do that). When he noticed I made no comment, I guess the others had already seen my increasing weariness.
"You need your rest, sir," Armstrong and Hawkeye said nearly simultaneously.
"I can't deny it," I gave in, "Come see me again when you can."
Of Course, Sir, etc. was the general answer.
"It'll be a bit busy from now on, though," remarked the master sergeant.
"Isn't it always?" I responded. I paused, and said in solemn sincerity, "Thank you for coming to see me."
"You're welcome, man," said 2nd Lt. Havoc.
"We did want to see you for ourselves, sir," said Fuery.
"Take care of yourself, sir!" advised Armstrong.
Hawkeye just smiled. She remained after the men left.
"You know," I said, eye closed, "I need to thank you. You saved my life. Thank you for coming back." I looked at her. It appeared she was determined to stay composed. I didn't mean to make her teary again.
"Sir…I should have been there with you," she said, and this would not be the last time we'd have this conversation, "I shouldn't have allowed them to take me away. I should have been there to protect you."
"Please," I begged, "don't talk about it. That was then. Who knows? Archer could have shot us together, and then who would come just in time to save us? You did well. Let it go, Riza."
"Sir…" Her eyes shone. My eye closed, I half expected her to leave, but I heard the sound of footsteps approaching me.
I felt the warmth of someone's breath and immediately following that someone's lips were brushing along mine. I slowly opened my eye and looked into Riza Hawkeye's deep brown ones. In the moment, I placed my am around her and drew us closer. I have no estimate on the duration of that sweet encounter. I only know I woke up and she wasn't there. The sun was very bright outside.
A dream, or did she kiss me to sleep?