Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, only my two OCs.
A/N: Since school has been dragging me down almost every day and I feel that it's growing to be a bit tiresome apologizing for the lack of updates over and over again, I have learned that in no way am I obligated to write something unless I feel like it, after all; writing is something YOU do for fun on this site, something to do when you feel like it; not because somebody expects it out of you.
To put it simply and just, I will no longer be putting up apologies in the A/N section, though I will put stupid or not at all commentary, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the new chapter!
P.S. I will also be tweaking the format of openings in each chapter, starting from this one.
P.S(2) This is a filler chapter to tap into Del's character again
CHAPTER 7;;
Precipices and Repetitions of Time
" though it plays all over again, you've still gotta ask yourself – do i really want this? and for a moment it truly feels like you have choice, not that you ever will though; it's all just fiction after all "
Have you ever read books? Books with villains who had the power to sense death and stare right at its face, the power to see all, dead and living, some people disregard it and called it weak, the typical villain—but it wasn't, not to Del, she'd read stories of villains like that and commended them for being so brave, for you see, even though she was locked away in her home as a child, her mother and father didn't completely shield her away from the world, nor did they give her lies about it; they gave her what they could to prepare her, nothing but the truth.
The truth of depression, suicidal acts, anxiety, fears, grey situations; it frightened Del very much, to think how deep and depressing the world was, much different that what she saw herself. For what she saw however blind, was a world of creativity, a world of beauty with many things to be grateful and happy for—but the image was shattered, and she was plagued by dreams of the dead and suicidal.
Those were the moments of her childhood that she hated, being in fear.
And now here she was, sitting in a small apartment's couch with a mug of dandelion tea, staring at the raindrops that rolled down the window next to her; her breath coming out in white puffs; staining the glass so that it became frosted, to which she drew pictures on, on the left a question mark, in the middle her own face, on the right another question mark and one small heart was drawn on top of the three drawings.
Her thoughts drifted back to her mother and father, the memories she had with them were the best—perhaps the only ones she'd ever treasure, along the ones she had with the maids that worked back home.
And she wept softly at the notion of never once being able to see her own parents, never to see the beauty of her mother and never to see the warmth on her father's. Del missed them so much, she missed their warm hugs and happy voices—oh how thankful she was to know that nobody was watching her weep in Lieutenant Hawkeye's living room with tear drops rolling off her chin and cheeks and into her tea as the storm raged on with crackling thunder and streaks of lightning that made her cry all the bit more.
"She's had four breakdowns in the past three days, sir." Riza informed, pouring tea for a certain raven-haired Colonal in his comfy chair, presumably doing paperwork but in reality, doodling.
"Ah." He responded.
"Crying, sir."
Mustang paused and looked up from his papers, "Sorry?"
Hawkeye lifted the teapot and set it back onto its tray before replying, "She's been crying, sir, I've done all I can to comfort her but even so…"
"You can't handle it." Mustang finished, sighing and lacing his gloved fingers together.
The Lieutenant shook her head and sighed from her nose, "Partly because of that, but it's just… every time I see her cry, my heart strangely constricts and I feel guilty, it's weird and I don't like the feeling, after all I've done nothing wrong to her. It's odd."
The raven haired man's face was with small hints of disbelief and confusion, to which the blonde female replied, "I've also seen you tense when I say her name, sometimes you look angry and sometimes even afraid, is everything alright?"
Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered a few incoherent words before replying, "I honestly have no idea, Lieutenant; I feel as if her name is something we're not… supposed to say, forbidden; and it's peculiar because she's just a girl, right? Not a queen."
There was a brief silence, "I agree whole heartedly, sir." That was Riza.
The Colonal released a quiet groan, his shoulder sagging as his mind ran one hundred miles per hour, trying to deduce just what exactly was happening to both of them, "Do you think the Elrics feel the same way?"
The blonde shook her head, "I'm not sure, sir, we last saw them three nights ago and they seemed to be fine, but however… these odd, things, we've been experiencing haven't come into light after the day the Elrics left, sir."
"That is true," He replied and leaned back on his chair, "Do you think we should phone them? Ask them if anything similar has happened?"
"I'd suggest against it, this'd seem too suspicious and they'd probably come running back here." She replied, hands now behind her back.
"Right," Mustang chuckled, a small mocking tune in his voice, "Can't let their 'Winry's friend' come to any harm, can they?"
Before Riza could even get a chance to reply, the raven-haired man began coughing violently, covering his mouth with his white-gloved hand to which blood quickly spread, "Sir!"
And all at once, it left as quick as it came when the front door slowly creaked open to reveal none other than Delamine Wright, her expression tired and deprived—though it soon changed to a frightened and worried one upon the sight of Mustang covering his mouth with a bloodied glove, "C-Colonal!"
The pain left as swift as it came, leaving only but a man and woman confused and shocked.
Del hurried to the two and took Mustang's hand in her own, inspecting the blood which had quickly dried and it was… fading? The blood was fading!
"What in God's name…?" She whispered, releasing the hand.
"Colonel, do you need to go to the infirmary?" The blonde next to him asked, rubbing his back soothingly.
"I…" His voice was weak, shock lacing and drowning, "Y-Yes, Del, the Lieutenant will conduct the interview," Lieutenant approached him, ready to object but stopped when he raised a hand, "I'll get… to—to, get to the infirmary myself."
"Are you sure?" The Lieutenant asked, worried.
"Yes, yes." Roy managed a small weak smile; waving her away, "Stop worrying about me like a mother, will you?"
Riza shook her head, a frown present as she watched him leave the room, "Honestly."
"Is he really going to be alright?" Del asked, frowning also.
"I'm not too sure, he's always been a stubborn man." The blonde replied, sighing tiredly though at the same time very worriedly.
Del smiled a small smile, one that showed she knew a lot of things, "I know."
Riza gave her a pointed look, the corners of her lips twitched upwards ever so slightly, "Oh really?"
"Sorta, he just sounds like it; reminds me of my dad, my mum always told me he was a stubborn man." The brunette responded with now a big smile of knowing, "You remind me a lot about her, you're very alike, if you don't mind me saying."
"Thank you, your mother must be a wonderful woman." The lieutenant playfully said, putting her hands on her hip.
Del got the message and let out a big happy laugh, apparently the lieutenant did have a sense of humor, shame it wasn't shown in the series, "Since my mum and dad got together, I wonder if you and the colonel will too." The brunette gave her a pat on the shoulder, "Love works in mysterious ways."
The blonde gave her a tight look, though her eyes twinkled with laughter, "I'm his subordinate, Del, nothing more and nothing less." Her words seemed to droop a little at the end and Del found it sad, "But that's enough of the small talk."
The shorter female shook her head and lifted her hand from Riza's shoulder, "Of course, so who's going to be interrogating me today?"
"With me, just like the colonel said." Riza told, gesturing for them to sit by the window where one small table laid with two wooden chairs on each side.
When both of them had seated themselves comfortably, Riza cleared her throat and made gestures with her hand, "So, how does the colonel start these things?"
"Start?" Del questioned.
"You know," She cleared her throat again, "Begin these things."
"Oh uh, well—" The brunette paused, "—well he usually starts introducing himself and then tells me to do so, then he asks me things regarding my introduction, sometimes it's really stupid though, like one time when I'd finished saying my introduction he asked me, 'how long have you been sixteen?' and all I could say was 'awhile', and then he laughed—can you believe it? What's so funny about that?"
"I think you're starting to stray from our initial objective here, Del." Riza scolded, though there was a wide grin on her face, she bit her lip to stop the giggle threatening to spill.
Del flushed red and returned the grin, "Sorry."
"It's alright," The blonde replied, a small smile now on her face as her she looked through the papers the colonel had given her, "First question then."
The brunette nodded and Riza asked, "What are your fears?"
"I don't know all of them yet, but the ones I do know are depression, death and suicide." She answered.
"Aren't they all the same things though?"
There was silence before Del asked, surprised, "What?"
"Well, death is all of those things, from my perspective, suicide is self-explainable but depression is—well, it is what it is, you killing yourself, it comes from you and not anyone else, the cause of it might be something else but in the end, what happens and what is afflicted is you, depression is that emptiness of space and that fear that oblivion is inevitable, that everything you've done will be for naught once you die—and at the same time you lose purpose, just like death, just like that moment whether your body'll be burned or buried, your body is suffocated, your skin feels scorched and the tears just feel hotter than before, it stings your eyes and at the same time, you feel nothing, and you want to feel something, you want to be normal again, you don't want to feel anything and yet you want to feel everything, to me—depression means the need for physical pain, because if you feel pain on your flesh and raw tears in your eyes caused by physical affliction rather than emotional affliction, then that means you're alive and you haven't been floating in an empty sea where you'll lose all your warmth and be filled with nothing but coldness.
That's how it is to feel dead after all, you feel nothing, and at the end—you give up, and then everything is over." Riza frowned, eyes seeming reminiscent as she looked out the window, "Take it from me, Del, even I myself have been through depression."
When the lieutenant turned to face Del again, she saw her covering her eyes, a playful smile was on her face, "You're straying from the topic, lieutenant."
Riza frowned, the guilt she had spoken to Mustang about returning to the pit of her stomach, she reached out and put her hand over Del's hand, her body suddenly filled with coldness, "Del, why are you covering your eyes?"
"No reason," She responded, "Please remove your hand."
The blonde flinched at her choice of words, instantly sitting up straight and clearing her throat, noting how out of character she was for doing so, "It's off."
"I know."
"Then take remove your hand."
"No."
"Why?"
"No reason."
Riza frowned deeper but continued on with the interrogation, the feeling of dread deep within her gut, but oblivious of the wideness of Del's eyes and the tears spilling through—how her teeth chattered and how afraid she was, sadness was her only thought and fear were her words, and those words were simple, and quiet, only whispers echoing in her mind.
'I wanna go home.'