yes, yes...it's been a while...be quiet and just read, okay?
"It's over…" he whispered, taking the gloves off his fingers and tucking them into his pocket. It was sickening and amazing, how easily he'd become used to the feel of them on his hands, to have them covered all the time. It was a kind of sick comfort.
He looked around at the relieved faces, his eyes searching for the one who he had seen constantly, but had yet to approach again. He should have found her and talked to her, but she seemed to have taken comfort in the company of one Havoc. He'd looked him up. As long as she wasn't alone…he couldn't face her again.
It was over, and his goal was set. He could answer her questions now, well…no…he couldn't answer her questions, but at least he could tell her his solutions. He ducked out of the large building where the assembly was called and walked out into the land that would take years to recover from the damage they had done to it. The people…the people would never be the same.
And there she was…a flash of blue uniform in the golden brown sand, her hair nearly blending in. Her white skin shone was like a beacon, among all the tan. He nearly smiled. She must have been the only one here who didn't tan, besides himself. They were a constant shade of sunburnt pink.
"Aren't you going back?" he called out, as a greeting…what a start to a lovely conversation. He was bad at this...he knew he was bad at this.
"Burn my back."
It was perhaps worse than the screams he'd heard here, in this country where he'd left nothing but ashes. Not even blood. Just ashes.
He stared at her. He'd protested. And she'd cut him short.
"If I can't atone, at least so it can't give birth to new flame alchemist!"
He'd frozen at that. There was nothing more that he could say.
The worst part was…he agreed. It was too easy to kill people like this. To literally just snap his fingers and have it be done. There was too much power in that array.
He wouldn't…he couldn't…she was a woman. He'd be doing the same thing to her that her father had done! He couldn't…
"So I can end the bonds to my father. To alchemy."
Could he do that? Erase the power that damn man had over her? To wipe her clean and push her into her own world—a woman rather than a notebook?
"So I can become Riza Hawkeye. An individual."
He just stared at her. Each one of them had the same cross to bear after this. Each one of them would live this nightmare until the day they died. But to take away at least one pain—to undo some of the damage in her soul—he pulled on his gloves.
He trusted himself to do it. That was the most frightening part.
He held out his hand, and whispered hoarsely, "Turn around." It was an echo of the day he'd turned her around and taken the knowledge off her. This time, though he knew it would make the wounds worse, he didn't bother to take the clothes off her. Maybe he didn't dare.
He held out his hand, and to his surprise, it was shaking. He felt so calm, and yet his hands were shaking. It was the opposite of when he'd burn strangers. His hands would be rock steady, but his mind would be screaming at him.
He bit his lip as he carefully arranged the molecules in his mind. A thin layer of pure oxygen, right over the array—no need to get her entire back—and then immediately afterwards, a heavy ring of non-oxygen. Not a single molecule could remain, or the wounds would be too deep. Then he took a deep breath…
...and snapped.
yes...it's shorter than usual. sorry about that. it was a difficult chapter to write, and i finally just decided on this. leave a review.