Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Grey ❯ Insanity ( Chapter 1 )

 

~I do not own our favorite pint sized alchemist. If I did, I wouldn't have to put these disclaimers up. 

~After suffering severe writers block, and starting grad school, I'm ready to begin tackling this project again!

~This chapter is edited AGAIN….

 

 

~WARNING: graphic violence

 

 

 

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Chapter 1

Insanity 

 

 

 

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~Flashback~

 

 

Blood.

 

It was everywhere.

 

Slowly staining the cement ground he stood on, and seeping through the cracks in the pavement, it lazily dripped into the gutters that are also becoming tainted with the transgressions of their past. It was splattered across his face, down his neck, and was now soaking the black t-shirt that barely clung to his chest in tattered shreds. His metal arm and leg were slick with it, as the open gashes on his torso and legs continue to ooze with every pulse of his heart. Even the reflection of the moon on that clear night looked like blood in the dim light of the few streetlamps that were still lit.

 

Across the street, blood was running down her face from the cut along her hairline, adding a sickly pink hue to her porcelain skin, and it made her heaving breaths for air seem magnified in the moonlight of a summer's eve. As it pooled beneath her feet, she tentatively started to make her way to him. But her shoes were so saturated that they started to make a disgusting squishing sound, so she paused to kick them off; right in the middle of the road. But it didn't matter, because all sensible life forms had left the area hours ago, when the chaos first began. Starting her journey to him once again, he made a mental note as to how yellow her hair looks against the bloodstained dress that used to be white, and how her big blue eyes never wavered from his as she tentatively made her way across the street to him.

 

To his left, a huddled figure was drenched in it, the matted clumps of his hair sticking to his face. As a finger moved to push some of it aside, there was an audible gasp at the recognition that it wasn't someone else's blood covering his skin, but his own. He realized that after all of their time spent searching, all their time fighting for a way back. he was finally human again. The tears began to freely fall down his face, leaving rivets of semi-clean skin beneath the blood-coated surface, as he reveled in the fact that it was a flesh hand, not armor, that is wiping away the blood and tears. Standing slowly, the tears fell harder as his gaze traced the contours of his real body for the first time in a very, very long while. But as his eyes could not mask the horror as his sight fell upon the scene around him, and the tears only escalated. Moving to take his place at his brother's side, he suddenly stopped short when he saw the expression on his older brother's face. His eyes widened a fraction, and then narrowed in realization. His eyes became slits. The well-perfected mask of indifference cultivated from years of failure slid effortlessly across his face, and he wiped the rest of his blood from his emotionless brown eyes without another reaction.

 

Further down the road in front of him, the colleagues the brothers had both entrusted their lives to began to collect themselves, and sort out which bodies are alive and which were dead in the sea of chaos left in the wake of the…crossing. The sickly sweet smell of the blood here was the strongest, and even the hardest military men were left heaving on the side of the road. Occasional cries are heard, but even then the din of the crickets overpowers most of the moans of the dying and injured. A man and a woman appeared in the midst of their fallen comrades, but even they were soaked in the blood that covers the landscape of Central.

 

“Looks like we can finally take a vacation now, Lt. Hawkeye. Look who decided to make his way back.”

 

“Whatever you say, sir.”

 

 

His eyes were blank, seeing none of the carnage and destruction around him.

There was no blackness of the night.

There was no pink light of the moon.

There was no yellow of her hair, brown of his eyes, or the scarlet of the blood trickling down his face.

There wasn't even the red that coated everything he could see.

 

Everything was just…gray.

It was just a suffocating, smothering gray.

 

With every nerve still twitching, each sound was like a roaring thunder in his ears, and he flinched as the blonde finally reached him. With a gentle touch to his flesh shoulder, she hesitated before speaking.

 

“Ed…”

 

He felt the panic start to overwhelm himself, and the look in her eyes tells him that she knows what's about to happen. In an instant, all hell broke loose. Desperately clawing at her hand, Ed only feels it slipping from his blood-slicked metal grasp, which only made the panic rising within him reach a frenzy.

 

`I have to get out of here.'

 

He felt a surge of energy as the panic engulfed him.

 

`How could I have done all of this?'

 

With a final attempt, he managed to get her small hand off of him, and blindly stumbled face first into the brick building behind him. His breaths were getting shorter and quicker in succession, and the tightening feeling in his throat made it almost impossible to breathe. Desperately clawing at his own throat to relieve the pressure, he left long, crimson smears against his skin as he tried to physically relieve the building pressure around his windpipe. Using his forehead to lean against the brick, his gasping breaths simply weren't getting enough oxygen into his blood, and the sea of it that surrounded him began to sway and roll as his knees began to buckle. In the background of his mind, he heard the faint calls of a woman as his mind finally went black, and his body, limp

 

 

~End flashback~

 

 

One Week Later:

Central Military Hospital

 

 

With a strangled scream, Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, sat straight up in bed completely drenched in a cold sweat. Frantically grabbing for this throat, the lights of the hospital room blared to life as two nurses rushed in, one with a cold damp towel and the other with the meds to knock him out. Sensing their presence, he blindly fought against them as the drugs quickly took their hold on him, and he slumped back into the mangled wet sheets. Feeling the cold towel wipe his face, his last thoughts before he slipped back into unconsciousness were of her yellow hair, his brown emotionless eyes, and the wonder of what it was like to be insane.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Much Love,

The Cerulean Alchemist