thedeadparrot (thedeadparrot) wrote,
thedeadparrot
thedeadparrot

I Might Be Wrong (Part VI) - In which things stop happening. And Roy angsts.

Title: I Might Be Wrong (Part VI)
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Roy/Hughes
Spoilers: through 51
Summary: Roy hasn't learned from other people's mistakes
Previous Parts: Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V
Notes: Many thanks to tatooine, who repeatedly saves me from myself.



6.

Roy goes through the next day in a haze, his mind full of the things that happened the night before. There's too much to absorb, too much to analyze.

Maes is Wrath. Or is Wrath Maes? Is there a line that can be drawn? Does Wrath remember who he is (was)?

Roy can't see the pieces, doesn't know what they do. The chessboard is hidden from sight, and Roy wonders how they expect him to play the game. Stupid metaphorical chessboards.

He rests his elbows on the desk and stares at the opposite wall. It's a light green ("seafoam" green, if he remembers the name correctly). There are cracks along it, and Roy wonders how they got there. Thinking about them is easy, easier than thinking about what happened last night.

There's a knock on the door, gentle and steady. Roy suspects that it's Hawkeye. The others know he's in a mood. They'll tiptoe around him, sending each other worried glances. Nothing will be said to him unless it's official business. Even then, Hawkeye will handle most of said official business. Wimps.

Sure enough, it's her. She hands him a manila folder, and Roy blinks for a few seconds before realizing what it is. An autopsy report. He knows it won't be much different from the one he received a few days ago, the one on James Glock.

Roy leans forward and rubs his temples. Hawkeye doesn't miss anything (it's not in her nature to), and when Roy opens his mouth, he knows he has her full attention.

"I've made a mistake," he says. He's still being vague still. He can't help it.

"And what mistake would that be, sir?" she asks. Her eyes watch him intently.

"It appears that a homunculus has been the one committing these murders." He takes a second to gather himself. "One that resembles Brigadier General Hughes."

Hawkeye nods, and her eyes narrow, honing in. "And what does this mistake have to do with the new homunculus?"

Roy doesn't want to say it. He really doesn't. It's been his secret for long enough that it's entrenched; it doesn't want to come out. He thinks Hawkeye knows the answer. She can connect the dots easily enough. He's already told her. In front of Maes' grave, after his funeral.

"I attempted something foolish and the homunculus was a... result," he tells her without telling her.

She nods again, slower this time. "Why?" Clarification is unnecessary. They both know what she's referring to.

"The chance," he wills his voice to remain steady, to stay monotone and formal. "The possibility of seeing him again was worth it."

She's angry. He can see the rage in her eyes, her posture (tenser, tighter than normal). She probably wants to beat some sense into him, but it would just be too little, too late. She looks frustrated, irritated, and tired (Roy's having flashbacks to his mother after he broke her favorite vase, which can't be bad because his mother forgave him, didn't she?). "You understood what you were doing?" she asks.

"Yes." Roy stares at his desk because he can't meet her eyes.

"You understood what happened to the Elrics?"

"Yes."

"You understood that you were putting yourself and this country in danger?" It's almost an inquisition now. Roy knows he deserves it, anything she can dish out.

"Yes."

"You're an idiot." She turns to leave before pausing. "Sir."

Roy watches her go. After she shuts (slams, more like) the door, he sighs and rubs his temples some more.

She'll forgive him -- eventually. She always does.

---

The forest was quiet, save for a few insects and birds. A thud broke through the silence, as the knife entered wood. A suit of armor ran to inspect the snake he had caught. If he could smile, he would have.
"Brother! Brother! I caught one!" he called out to a blonde-haired boy, who smiled.

"Good, Al," the blonde yelled back. He was inspecting his own catch, a small, brown rabbit.

No one disturbed them. There was no one there to disturb them.
Tags: fic, fma, i might be wrong
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