Title:
Moving Forward
Summary:
Roy Mustang was in denial. Deep in denial.
Rating:
K/PG
Disclaimer:
If I owned FMA then I wouldn't
be poor and this wouldn't be fanfic.
Warnings:
Spoilers for the series and the movie; possible really vague hints of
RoyxEd and RoyxAl.
It had been so long since that fateful day that had changed everything in the flash of an alchemic reaction. And so long that Roy Mustang had been telling himself that it had all been for the better.
The government had been overthrown and replaced by a parliament, which was most definitely a good thing. He no longer held his position as Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, which was, at least, a good thing for him. The country was slowly rebuilding itself with the help of the reformed military and its own steam power. Alphonse's body had been restored and, even though his memories of the five years he'd spent trapped in that metallic body were gone, maybe even that was for the best.
But then there was Edward. On that very night that everything had changed, Edward had disappeared. Of course everyone that had known the Elric brothers' secret had realized what had happened the moment young Alphonse had been discovered in his ten year old body. The young blonde must have been so frightened, waking up in a strange place, all alone when the last thing he remembered was standing in his father's study at home with his brother. Now, though, his brother was gone -- disappeared in the span of one night. The FullMetal Alchemist's name had become renown throughout the country, hailing the young man who'd possessed it as a genius, a prodigy, and one of the most powerful alchemists alive that, despite the State Alchemists' reputation, had actually followed their motto: "Be thou for the people." And in the end, he'd sacrificed it all to achieve the one thing that no one before him had ever been able to do. Edward Elric had proven the impossible to be possible, but had given his life in the process.
And Roy Mustang was in denial. Deep in denial. Perhaps it was because there was, ultimately, no actual proof that he'd died. Perhaps it was because he'd believed that the Elrics had been able to create the Philosopher's Stone in the end and, using that, there was just no way that he could have died. Or, perhaps he'd just been surrounded by death nearly his entire military career, had just recently lost his best friend, and hadn't wanted to admit that someone else that he'd cared so much about had been taken away from him far too young, even if it had been the blonde's own choice. Perhaps, also, he didn't want to admit that he might have done more, himself, to save the extraordinary young man that it had been his duty to protect.
As much as Edward hadn't wanted to admit it, he and Roy had been very much alike; it had been one of the things that had attracted the Colonel to him in the first place. That and the fact that Edward had been an absolute genius at the only the age of eleven and mostly self-taught. But they were both able to look ahead when they needed to, reading people's personalities nearly flawlessly to determine what they'd do next. Even more so, though, they both had an acute sense of guilt that they drowned out by throwing themselves into their work that they believed would somehow make up for their sins. It was why Edward had fought so hard to restore his brother's body. It was why Roy had worked so hard to get to the top in the Military. And it was why Roy was where he was now: There simply was no way to make up for his sins with Edward.
It was cold up in the north -- it was always cold -- and there seemed to be a constant blanket of snow on the ground. Roy lived there, in a small wooden house, serving as a police officer. The house was comfortable enough for his purposes, because all he needed to do was live and protect his country. He had to keep going because he could. Wasn't that what he'd told Edward so long ago? You have to move forward because you can so as you weren't dead.
But he couldn't move forward with his previous plan because the position he'd been vying for had been terminated. But, also, the reason he'd wanted to become Fuhrer in the first place was so that he could make certain that no one would ever again have to do the things that he and the other State Alchemists had had to do in Ishbal. Now, though, there was no need for him to do that because the new government was going to straighten things out. Supposedly. They seemed to be doing a decent job so far, but, then again, nearly anyone would seem better than the self-serving, bastard homunculus Fuhrer that Roy had managed to bring down.
He still wanted to serve his country, though, because it was what he wanted to do, but he didn't feel he was nearly as productive as he had been now that he was stuck out in the middle of nowhere. If he'd still been the Flame Alchemist, then he probably could do more, but every time he'd tried he could only hear the screams and see the horror-stricken faces of the innocent people he'd slain using it. How could he do good for anyone if he couldn't get past those paralyzing memories?
So he didn't use alchemy anymore. Instead, he had a rifle -- standard issue for all police officers -- which he used mostly as something to lean on as he stood for hours on end just staring out at the White.
Until one day when, out of the curtain of snow, appeared a figure. The person was hunched over against the cold wind, a long coat flapping out behind them. It was the color of the coat, however, that fixated the man's eyes on the approaching figure.
Roy knew that coat.
And he barely was able to even breathe as details slowly became clearer: Long, blonde hair; a long, red, hooded coat; black clothes beneath, white gloves.
There was only one person he knew of that wore those clothes and, for one glorious moment, as the young man finally came up to him, he thought that it really was him. But when the seeming apparition looked up, he illusion was broken. The blonde hair was darker as well as those gorgeous, gold Elric eyes, and his face was much rounder and more innocent.
This wasn't Edward, but it was definitely an Elric.
"Are you Roy Mustang?" Alphonse asked with an intensity to match his brother's.
Roy could only nod dumbly.
"Good," the blonde smiled, breaking the illusion again. "You know me. My name's Alphonse Elric and I was told that my brother and I used to work for you."
Another nod. Alphonse seemed to be getting a bit frustrated with the lack of actual responses.
"I need to ask you a few questions about my brother and the night he disappeared."
Finally Roy came out of his stunned silence and gestured towards the front door of his little wooden house, "Of course, Alphonse." The desolate, snowy desert could protect itself long enough for him to answer a few questions.
-End