Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
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 | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Tag filter
Notes: Many thanks to daringu for the betaing this chapter. Also, thanks to everyone who actually stuck around until the end. It really is appreciated. :)
It was a quiet day. The graveyard was almost always quiet, but today it was quieter than usual. He walked among the neatly arranged graves carrying a bouquet of flowers. It wasn't much, but it would do.
He found the particular grave he was looking for in no time, though he'd only visited it once before. It was the kind of thing you didn't forget.
The day was crisp and clear, the sort of cold beauty that seems perfect for moments like this. He pulled his heavy wool coat tighter around him and thought of the desert, how cold it really could be, how you could almost see forever in the distance.
He placed the flowers on the headstone, and he realized that she had been here recently, since there were a few flowers already there, fresh and new. It made him smile, a small, thin, not-quite substantial thing, but a smile nonetheless.
He opened his mouth as he stared at the headstone, ostensibly to say something. Something apologetic, maybe. Something funny. Something true. But he found that there was nothing to say.
He knew. Maybe he had always known. He always did have a knack for knowing things he shouldn't have. I love you, you fucking asshole, he thinks, but that's more for his own benefit than his.
Footsteps. Behind him. "Colonel."
The first lieutenant. "Lieutenant."
"I've been looking for you."
He nodded, but didn't take his eyes away from the grave in front of him. There was a twinge of familiarity in the situation but he couldn't quite place it until he heard the sound of a trumpet in the distance. He remembered this moment, from after the funeral. It was eerie how identical they were, the moments, and maybe it was meant to be this way, to start over from then and make everything right this time.
She continued. "I told the others. They don't blame you."
Another nod and a lump in his throat. "It doesn't matter now," he said. "He's dead."
A few moments of silence before, acknowledging the matter, before she continued again. "That's not the only reason I'm here. The uprising in Lior. We leave in two days."
He closed his eye for a moment. The desert again. He reached inside his pocket, felt around for the teeth. They were somewhat morbid good luck charms, he knew, but still strangely appropriate.
"Later," he said.
He could almost hear the snap of her salute behind him. Retreating footsteps.
This wasn't an ending. There was still more to do. So much more to do. But now he was ready. Now he could move on.
Now he would.
Oh, and a little goodie:
Radiohead - I Might Be Wrong