Disclaimer: I only own Arturo and Mr. Momo… Hiromu Arakawa owns FMA and the wonderful characters that embody it.
Thicker than Rain
Chapter 11: Unforgivable
"When its time to live and let die, and you can't get another try. Something inside this heart has died, you're in ruins…"
~ 21 Guns (Green Day)
~O~O~O~O~O~
((Flashback))
Screaming and crying came from every direction as dust was blown through the dirty streets. There was gunfire everywhere. At each blast, the Colonel took a silent note as he wiped his brow with the back of his gloved hand.
Everywhere…
The sound haunted him, even after he had long grown used to them. There was something empty about the city around him, something noticeably hollow about where he was. It was sad, really: all the destruction that was brought upon these, supposedly, savage people.
He gave a sigh.
"There's nothing to be done about it now…" he muttered to himself.
It hadn't taken long for him to become a machine, one that brought death and destruction at the sound of a crisp snap.
People from every direction would fall to the ground, their bodies twitching and convulsing; their faces lined with agony as electricity coursed through their systems, frying their nerves like copper wire.
All he could do was wince, or turn his head to keep the image from burning into his mind… but nothing helped. The screams were all that lingered… and their eyes. He couldn't forget those either.
The dead stares that looked up at him… sometimes their eyeballs fried under the Ishballan heat. It was a horrid sight, but it happened.
When the sun went down, and it became much colder, the night troops were sent out to their posts.
Arturo gathered by the fire to warm his hands as he stuffed his Watt-cloth gloves in his pockets.
Hawkeye sat next to him, a mug of water clutched in her hands.
As he stared into the flames, he only thought of one person.
"I wonder how Roy is doing…"
Hawkeye's words broke through his thoughts and he turned to her with a startled look.
"What about Roy?" the Colonel asked, almost tripping over his own words.
The cadet gave a shrug, but looked almost embarrassed at the question… or whom she asked it to.
"I'm just wondering how he is." She said, "I heard that all the state alchemists were sent to war, and I know that Roy is only a Major…"
"So you're worried." Arturo said, giving her a warm smile as he finished her sentence, "I get it. I've been thinking of the same thing."
"I mean… I can't help but think that everything that happened is all my fault." The cadet murmured as the two soldiers stared into the fire.
It was at that that the Colonel laughed genuinely for the first time since the decree had been distributed.
Hawkeye, along with others sitting around the fire, glared at him, looking rather peeved.
"What's so funny, Sir?" she questioned.
"I just don't know why you'd think it was your fault…" Arturo said giving her a rather sad smile, "You're just following orders with intentions to protect Roy… I'd say that's the most honorable thing you could do."
Hawkeye gave a sigh, staring back into the flames with a burning intensity.
"I know…" she replied with an uncharacteristic coldness, "But I mostly feel responsible for what's happening to Roy… Alchemists have been turned into killing machines, and I was the one who gave him my father's secret of Flame Alchemy. I watched my father change, and I know Roy will change…"
Arturo watched as her expression slowly broke from regret and exhaustion. The Colonel moved closer to her, put an arm over her trembling shoulders.
"I don't want him to become a monster for what I did to him…" she mumbled, leaning into him.
Arturo gave a sigh.
"I doubt Roy will become a monster," he said, "He's too much of a soft-hearted fool to ever become a monster. I should know."
He felt her shift her position against his shoulder, and now it was Arturo's turn to stare into the flames.
He hoped that what he was telling her was true… but if Roy were to become a monster, it wouldn't be her fault. That he knew. Everything was his fault, after all.
~O~O~O~O~O~
Days went by like these, only growing worse.
Promotions were handed out constantly because of the need to fill empty ranks of killed commanding officers.
Before he knew it, Arturo no longer found himself to be a Colonel, but rather a Brigadier General.
Things emptied out as men constantly returned to the base without their comrades; their eyes empty, hollow shells of who they once were.
Young, reckless boys became men with tears and blood in their eyes, never to be the same again.
The Brigadier General would mull over the paperwork that he had to do, his frustration only growing in size and fueling the flames of his anger.
I should be out there! I should be out on the field with my men! The men I sent to their deaths. All of those brilliant young alchemists!
His fists clenched, he slammed them into his desks, getting startled glances from his younger subordinates. As he allowed the pain to sink into his hands, he began coughing violently.
Damn dust is finally getting into my lungs…
"I-is everything all right, Sir?" one of them asked meekly.
Arturo just stood up, gathering himself.
"I need to go for a walk…" he muttered darkly, as his black hair fell into his eyes.
No one questioned him as he walked out to wander aimlessly around the base. His restless legs brought him to a nearby building.
He gave a shaky sigh, as he walked in, pushing aside the plastic door that blocked the entryway.
The Brigadier General wasn't clear on why he was there… but rather a force had pulled him to his destination.
And then he looked at where he had ended up.
Table after table held the casualties. Crimson coloring covered the floor and he could smell the musty iron in the air.
Yep… it was a morgue all right.
Arturo gave a sigh as a cold shiver ran up his spine as he looked down at the cadaver next to him.
With intrigue, he glanced at the body covered with a cloth, like most of the others.
"They didn't even get to examine the guy…" Arturo thought regretfully
It was the chain of a pocket-watch… an alchemist's pocket-watch.
Arturo flinched slightly, as he realized that he was the cause of this young man's death.
"God… such promise…" he mumbled.
He coughed harshly, leaning against the table where the young man's body was, and part of the cloth slipped off and a tuft of black hair was uncovered.
Black hair…
Arturo's eyes widened,
"N-no…" he stammered, backing away from the table, "NO!"
Tears filled his eyes and poured down his face as his mind began to piece itself together.
"No… this can't be happening! Not to him… Take ANYONE but him!" Arturo pleaded, "Please!"
His legs gave out beneath him and he leaned against the table for support.
"Not Roy… please… Our mother'll kill me!"
As Arturo cried into the table, footsteps were heard behind him.
"Brigadier General, Sir… are you all right? Sir, what's the matter?"
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Arturo roared, completely out of his mind, "THEY KILLED ROY! No… I've killed him!"
He howled like a crazed wolf as the young officer tugged on his arm.
"Please, Sir… let's get out of here. I'm getting creeped out," he said, trying to pull him out of the morgue, "This isn't Colonel Mustang… It's someone else! Your cousin looks different!"
Arturo kept trying to pull away as other officers joined desperately to remove him.
"LET GO OF ME!" The Brigadier General snarled, "OR I'LL-"
He broke into a fit of violent coughing, and his hand slowly curled into its familiar snapping position, but just as his fingers were about to cause the necessary friction, a sharp pain hit him in the leg, and he stumbled clumsily.
Soon things started to get very fuzzy and Arturo felt his legs slowly give out from under him.
"I-I'm sorry, Sir…" his subordinate said, nervously grasping his hat as he watched his superior officer black out.
~O~O~O~O~O~
When Arturo woke, all he saw was white… blurry white…
He blinked several times to clear his eyes. His mouth was dry and he tried to sit up, but his arms were shaking.
"Please, don't try to sit up, Sir."
Arturo couldn't help but be confused. It was an unfamiliar voice, and things were a bit too quiet for his liking.
"Wh-where am I?" he asked, his eyes beginning to clear.
He saw a young, blonde girl standing over his bed, and he felt a cool dampness suddenly touch his forehead.
"You're in a hospital, General." She said, her voice gentle and sweet; it reminded him of the sweet music that he used to code his alchemy in.
Oh God… his alchemy… the war…
He had to get back out there.
"Well, I shouldn't be in here… I'm fine!" he muttered as he tried to make his way out of the bed. As he reached the end of the bed, his lungs seized and he began coughing again.
What the hell is wrong with my fucking lungs?
"S-sir, please!" The nurse pleaded, "Get back into the bed! You're very sick!"
Arturo looked up at her, "I'm not sick!" he muttered, "I'm just fine. I just got dust in my lungs, that's all!"
The nurse shook her head fervently. "No, there's been an outbreak of tuberculosis because of the troop's close conditions… and you have it, Sir," she mumbled, her hands wringing the front of her apron tightly.
"Tuberculosis…?" Arturo breathed, as he began coughing once again, "What does that mean? Am I gonna die? Why didn't I know about this? If my troops are contracting this disease, I should know about it!"
He was beginning to get angry. He didn't like being left out of the loop, especially if it was relevant to the lives of his men.
"Of course, Sir… I'm sorry." The nurse said, looking more nervous than ever as tears began to well up in the sides of her blue eyes.
Arturo looked up at her and ran a hand through his messy hair.
"I don't mean to take my anger out on you, sweetheart… I'm sorry." He said, feeling tired, "I'm just…worried that's all… my cousin's out there, y'know? I'm worried about him. It's my fault he's out there…I just don't want to lose him."
The nurse sat down at his bedside,
"I understand." She said, "It sounds like your cousin is very important to you."
Arturo chuckled, "Yeah… He is." He answered simply, "Little Roy… he's like my brother. Our mother always thought so, anyway… and we always fought like we were."
The nurse just listened as he talked, laughing with him as he told the stories of their childhood… keeping his mind off the war and the lives currently being lost on the field.
She was his favorite source of company until the military sent him back to Central Headquarters a week later… under the Fuhrer's orders.
"No! I won't leave! Put me back on the field!" He snarled, "I can fight! I'm a fucking Brigadier General for cryin' out loud!"
"I'm sorry Brigadier General Mustang, Sir… but orders are orders." The man said as he read the letter from the Fuhrer, "Fuhrer Bradley wants you to report to the Central City hospital to recover and then return back to work in Central. He no longer wants you on the field. Your troops have been reassigned to other platoons as are needed."
"What about Cadet Hawkeye?" Arturo asked, his eyes wide.
The man nodded, "Yes… her included." He said halfheartedly, "In fact, every one of your soldiers is no longer under your command. You've been ordered to go home."
Arturo let out a sigh as he started to feel drowsy again.
He had been defeated.
"Fine… when am I being shipped out?" he asked, looking up at them as his nurse looked on with concerned eyes.
He laid back in his bed, propped up against the white pillows.
"Two days at the most." The man said, "Another officer will come, gather your things, and you will be put on the next train."
Arturo gave a tired nod.
"Fine…" he said, "Just tell them to look after my men… especially Roy and Hawkeye, understood?"
He glared at the man, since it was all he could muster the strength to do.
"Of course." He said, saluting Arturo and then leaving.
Arturo gave a sigh.
"I feel so damn useless…" he muttered irritably.
~O~O~O~O~O~
As was promised, he was shipped off two days later and a day after that, he was back in Central.
The Madame came to visit him every day, which made things a bit easier, but both of them knew that nothing would be all right until Roy was home and they knew he was in one piece.
Arturo sighed, looking out the window from the chair he was allowed to sit in.
This damn war… how long is it going to last?
He spent his time writing letters to his younger cousin and Cadet Hawkeye, his ex-girlfriend. It was his only joy hearing from them… but the letters were usually dark, describing what troubles they were experiencing. He was happy to hear that they had been united and were in the same area of patrol. Roy had also met up with one of his friends from the Academy, Maes Hughes.
Otherwise there wasn't much to report… war was war. Arturo knew this… he'd only seen it once before, but nowhere near this level.
He sighed regretfully, hoping that war didn't change Roy like it changed other men… because war destroyed people, and sometimes it was impossible to fix them.
((A/N: Thank you so much for keeping up with my feeble attempts at writing! I'm so privileged to have so many readers... *cries with joy*))