Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Fragility ❯ Fragility ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer- I don't own FMA or any of the characters.

 

Fragility

By A Guy Named Goo

Beta'd by QC

Inspired by Okami

 

“We never make love anymore.”

 

Sig turned around in bed carefully, making sure he didn't disrupt Izumi. He had been sure she was already asleep when he'd come to bed moments before, having gone to rest after finishing dinner. He didn't expect her to say anything like that. He looked down at her, and her expression was forlorn.

 

“We never make love anymore,” she repeated, now certain she had his attention. “It's been so long. I miss it.”

 

Sig wasn't sure what to say to that. It was true that they hadn't done anything, and he had shown no inclination to. But he recognized the look on her face: it was that same guilty expression. The expression she'd had after the loss of their child. The expression she'd had after the transmutation. It was like a knife through his heart every time he saw it.

 

“Izumi...” Sig said softly, reaching over to take one of her hands. It seemed so small compared to his, and he completely enveloped it. Really, that was the heart of the problem: he'd always been afraid of hurting her when they did anything sexual, being that he was a very large man and, strong though she was, she wasn't very big. And this was not an unfounded fear. He remembered their first time. She'd been a virgin, and when he'd looked down she'd been gritting her teeth, tears in her eyes, yet still trying to endure. He'd stopped, and promised both her and himself that he would make sure that the experience was always as beautiful and wonderful as it was supposed to be, not a painful experience to be endured out of some sense of spousal duty.

 

“I'm sorry,” Izumi said. She only spoke like this to him in private, and that knife that her guilt plunged into his heart felt like it was being twisted whenever she did. “I know why we don't. It's because of what I did.”

 

Sig couldn't deny it: it was the truth. However, it was probably not what she was thinking. She was convinced that he was harboring anger for what she had done, and in a way he did. It would cost him precious years he could have spent with her, and now their days were filled with regret and worry. But he wasn't angry at her for something she'd done in a fit of grief, nor was he as disgusted as she believed he was. It was a far simpler and more logical fear: she was in pain. There was really no way to keep sex from hurting her now, considering where the pain was. It was easier to stay close to her and never try than to try and risk both of them feeling miserable when they failed to spare her more pain.

 

“I don't want you to hurt,” Sig said at last, simplifying his every thought. He really didn't have to tell her the entire thing. She knew him well enough to know what he meant by this.

 

Izumi lifted her free hand and patted his large, solid arm. “I know. But...I still miss it. I still miss you. I want to feel it again.” She pulled her hand out of his and slid up on the bed so that she could kiss him. She was laying on her side to do it, a position that aggravated her condition and brought her further discomfort, and he responded by laying her back down, hovering over her so that he wouldn't have to break the kiss, ignoring the coppery taste of blood in her mouth.

 

Izumi was the one that pulled away from the kiss, her eyes averting from his sadly. “Please,” she said. Her hand drifted to her stomach unconsciously, but she let it drop when she noticed that Sig had been watching it. “I just want to be with you.”

 

Sig ran his hand down her right side, stopping as he came to her waist. She had flinched, making him wish she would take back her request. She tried to be so strong, tried to deny how serious her condition was. Perhaps it was that denial that had kept her alive this long. But he never wanted to see her in pain and know that he was the reason for it.

 

Izumi put her hand on his. Although it was much smaller than his own, when she squeezed he still couldn't help but close his hand into a fist, gathering the fabric of her nightgown as he did so. With the slight lift of the fabric, Izumi took her hand off of Sig's and tugged up on the cloth herself, encouraging him to pull it upwards. Sig was slow doing so; hesitant to take this any further, but when the fabric was bunch up around her waist her patience seemed to fade. She tugged it up over her the rest of the way, Sig having to relinquish his grip on the fabric to keep from ripping it. She threw the nightgown onto the floor roughly, as if she were frustrated with it, then turned her focus back to Sig.

 

Izumi was completely naked now. Sig realized she must have planned to spring this on him all along, possibly since dinner when she'd dismissed herself in the first place. She was wearing no underwear, which was uncharacteristic for her, and her sandals had also been removed, put down next to the bed. She could only sleep when she had some sort of footwear on, a testament to the fact that she was convinced she would be needed to do something somewhere at a moment's notice.

 

Sig was always surprised at how normal Izumi looked. There was no way to tell what was wrong with her just from looking at her, even with her completely nude like this. In a way, that made things more difficult: while he was glad his beautiful wife didn't have any glaring or unsightly deformities marking what she had done, it made touching her risky. He had no way of knowing where he could touch her without hurting her at all, or which places hurt her more than others. These were things he was still learning through guess and check, things he didn't really want to have to learn.

 

“Touch me,” Izumi said. It wasn't an order. It sounded desperate, as if she knew he didn't want to. As if the longer he waited, the more convinced she would be that she had lost him.

 

Sig complied, starting as high as he could without seemingly like he was avoiding what Izumi wanted, just above her breasts. Her hands came up to close around the one he had on her, guiding it over her right breast, closing it over the soft mound, her hands drifting away to leave him to continue unaided.

 

Sig wasn't really certain what to do now. Any ideas he had seemed too rough and had too much potential to hurt her. He brought his hand down off of it slowly, gently, his fingertips just barely grazing it, lingering for just a moment over the nipple. Izumi shifted, and Sig pulled his hand back, certain that he'd hurt her again, but the look on her face was one of annoyance. She took his hand again, placing it onto her abdomen and holding it there, despite him trying to pull it off at the feel of the muscles contracting in pain. She coughed, and a trail of blood fell out of the corner of her mouth, but she wouldn't relinquish her hold on his hand.

 

“Izumi, don't,” Sig begged. Her hands slid off of his, and his hand started to pull away, not quite breaking contact but hovering over she had placed it. He hoped he understood what this meant: that he didn't avoid touching her because he was disgusted or angry, but because he didn't want her to hurt.

 

Izumi had tears in her eyes, something she'd only ever allowed him to see. She hated appearing weak to anyone, even to him. She made a hiccupping noise, and more blood spilled out from between her lips, causing her to turn her head to the side to spit it out.

 

Sig sat up, pulling her slowly and gently into a sitting position, and put one of his arms behind her to support her, the other wiping her mouth with the back of his hand. She looked so defeated and felt so small and fragile in his arms, and tears sprang to his own eyes as he was suddenly gripped with a fear of her giving up because of this.

 

“I'm so sorry,” she whispered. “I'm...so sorry.”

 

It would do no good to tell her that none of this was her fault. He could tell her he forgave her, but he wasn't a man of words. Instead he just held her and let her cry and reconcile with her defeat.

 

The End