Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Grey ❯ Anger ( Chapter 5 )

 

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

 ~Author's Note: Dr. Montero is an original character created solely for the purpose of this fiction.

 

WARNING: Language

 

 

 

 

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Chapter 5

Anger

 

 

 

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Central Military Hospital, Dr. Montero's Office

9 weeks post return

 

 

“Well Edward, it's nice to see that you're more receptive to a conversation these days.”

Across from his desk, Dr. Montero could see Ed in the brown leather chair he always sat it, right let crossed over his left, right elbow propped up on the arm rest, right hand supporting his chin. Though his voice remained bland, his golden iris's remained as expressive as ever.

“Yeah Doc, I guess captivity really wasn't my style.”

Dr. Montero gave an internal sigh, keeping his composed, professional exterior. He'd grown more used to Ed's snide quips over the weeks, but seeing as how when he'd met Ed he had acted so much differently…needless to say sometimes the doctor still had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from responding in kind. But today, seeing as how Ed was having a “better day,” he just couldn't resist.

“You know, MAJOR, there's a nice grey couch behind you where I'd me more that happy to psychoanalyze you at my leisure.”

The state alchemist cocked an eyebrow.

“If we go that way, I'd prefer the straightjacket instead. That way it'd be more of a challenge to strangle you.”

The humor in Ed's eyes was unmistakable.

“Why Full Metal, sir, I do believe you just made a joke.”

“Yeah, who knew I still had it in me.”

`Ah, here's the turning point. Ok Major Edward Elric; time to psychoanalyze your smart ass.'

Leaning back in his desk chair, doctor Montero clasped his hands easily over his rounded mid-section, and waited. It was obvious the alchemist was referring to something, and he hoped that he could get to that without the prompting.

`If you're starting to open up, even if it's a little…your defenses must be starting to come down…and I'll sit right here and wait for your next move, Major Elric.'

They sat in silence for a full 30 seconds, and more than once Ed started to say something but quickly withdrew into thought again. And the doctor just waited. Finally, after a few minuets, doctor Montero's patience won out.

“I don't know, Doc. These past few weeks have been…hard…”

Ed paused to moisten his lips.

“I mean, I still feel like I'm walking in this fog, but it's changing…somehow.”

This time he paused to fidget in his chair.

“I just feel like I'm on the verge of something; something I can't see, or feel. I can't put my finger on it. But whatever it is…it's getting easier to bear the load and I can't even understand what it is I'm hauling around.”

Ed adjusted his pants, and slouched a bit further down into his chair.

`Those panic attacks, though….what can those mean?'

He fixated his eyes on a plant in the corner of the room, and rolled that thought around in his head.

“May I ask what you're thinking, Edward?”

“Huh?”

“Well you've been sitting there for 5 minuets or so, staring off into space.”

“Oh. Sorry Doc.”

“Not a problem.”

Dr. Montero leafed through Ed's chart, and placed it on his desk.

“How's the medication working for you?”

“It makes…it…slightly more tolerable, I suppose. But while it helps the…nightmares, it still makes everything else grey. Not sure if I think that's an equivalent exchange or not yet.”

Edward paused for a second, and then leaned forward in his chair. Pulling off his white gloves, the doctor's eyes widened a fraction at his first glimpse of his patients' automail right hand. Ed watched his fingers as he flexed them, and he continued.

“Doc, how is it I can't remember doing something when I'm wide awake?”

Montero leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk.

“I've been…lately, the dreams have been happening when I'm awake.”

`Fuck, how do I even BEGIN to explain this without sounding like a complete lunatic?'

“It's like I can't focus on anything other than…it's just like the emotions I feel in my dreams. But when I `snap out of it' I'll have no idea what I was doing.”

Extending his hand towards the ceiling, Ed leaned back and watched the sunlight coming in through the office window dance off of the metal.

 

~Flashback~

“I want to be happy that you're here…I just can't…I don't know why…I think I'm going crazy Winry, I really do…”

“Edward, just take a deep breath…”

His pulse was racing, the adrenaline was coursing through his veins, and the sound of his own heartbeat was pounding in his ears. The panic that had been slowly taking over him now had a strong hold on him, and soon he was lost to the rampant thoughts that had taken over his mind…

Flexing his hands, his human one felt numb from the death-grip he had on the mattress, and his metal one had actually punctured 4 finger holes through to the springs. Finally seeing Winry in front of him, a wave of guilt washed over him as the panic for his well being clearly gripped her eyes…

 

“Last week, I put these fingers through a mattress. Didn't even realize it until Winry practically reached into my mind and yanked me out of those thoughts.”

`Ah, so Winry IS still there. Major, that's the first time you've mentioned her for weeks, and even with that I can plainly see that she's the one helping you navigate through this.'

Lowering his hand to his lap, Ed's shoulders slumped, seemingly pushing him further down into the rich brown leather, his own black leather pants squeaking at the friction as he slouched even more into the chair. Focusing intently on the shining metal fingers of his right hand, he felt drained.

`Why am I even here? It's not like this shrink says anything to help me. All I do is sit here and run my mouth and he never says a fucking thing….it's like he's just…'

Ed's mouth fell open a little.

`He's just guiding me…this is ME sorting this out…what the hell. I'm so fucked up right now I can't possibly do this; I need someone to point me down the right path! Fuck me…'

“You know, Edward, everyone takes a different path to figuring out how to get out of `the fog,' as you call it.”

Ed's response was to clench his metal fist.

“And that's ok. Because all that matters in the end is the journey to what our hearts truly desire. And sometimes that answer surprises us; subconsciously we might know what we want, but sometimes our minds and hearts disagree.”

`How the fuck could YOU possibly know, you fucking shrink.'

Gold eyes looked up to meet the Doctor's dead on.

“In the end, it's the journey that really matters.”

The response the Dr. received was a curt, “Fuck you,” as Ed stood and strode purposefully toward the door. He paused momentarily at the door to put the white glove back on his metal hand, and reached for the doorknob.

“See you next week, Major.”

A slight wave of Edward's hand over his retreating shoulder was the only answer.

 

 

 

 

Central HQ

Brigadier General Mustang's office

Same time

 

 

 

“You know, sir, I think you should go see them today.”

Mustang continued on with his paperwork as if Hawkeye wasn't there at all. Scattered around the rest of the room were the other members of his team, pretending to be busy at various tasks, but all were obviously waiting for the response from their troubled General. Over the past few weeks, Mustang's behavior had grown more…tolerable…but it was still clearly evident to anyone that knew him that there was still something deeply troubling the Flame Alchemist.

“Sir, Fullmetal is here right now, sir; seeing Dr. Montero.”

Still, the sound of shuffling papers was her only response.

Riza Hawkeye saw red.

`Just who the hell does he think he is? Regardless of our current status of…well regardless he is still being so…so…'

Standing just a bit taller, First Lt. Hawkeye threw her shoulders back and let her eyes focus on some distant point above and beyond Mustang's head.

“Sir, Permission to speak freely, SIR!”

All activity in the room ceased; while the Lieutenant was always respectful of her superiors, there was always that give and take relationship with her and the General. And now, with the vivacity of her tone, every single man in the room cringed just a bit; except for the one that her attention was directed at.

And in a voice that was entirely too detached, the Flame Alchemist finally set down the papers in his hand, and languidly let his gaze settle on her trembling frame.

“Permission denied, First Lieutenant.”

A collective gasp was heard from Fallman, Furey, and Havoc, and faster than a sweatdrop they scurried out of the room, slamming the door behind them. Riza Hawkeye was pissed, and that was a terrifying prospect. Still at attention, her next words were said through clenched teeth.

“Sir, I apologize in advance for what's about to happen next.”

“Why Lieutenant, just what are you implying?”

And faster than he could blink, Riza Hawkeye gave the General one of the hardest right hooks he had ever felt in his life. Too stunned to react, he just sat there, as the tears started slowly trickling from Riza's soft brown eyes.

“Do you really think you can keep pulling this heartless bastard act off, SIR? Do you honestly think that you can keep your sanity, worrying over those boys when you could just as easily walk 200 yards to check on them? You think this whole ordeal was hard on you? Well, what about THEM?!”

Her voice was rising, and she shook with anger, but the tears just kept flowing.

“Those poor boys had been through more than most adults will ever experience in their lifetime! No, TWO lifetimes. And yet here you sit; forbidding your team with any contact with them, while you cowardly read Edwards Psychiatrist's weekly reports. Oh, well except for the daily drive by their apartment just to `check on things.' Sir, you really need to grow a set and talk to them, or else you need to move on.”

Roy slowly turned his head towards her, his left hand reaching up to lightly touch the tender spot on his cheek. Riza's resolve faltered.

“Sir, I…”

“Is that all, LEIUTENENT?”

She stared him down, the tears still lightly falling. Her lips trembled as she brought herself back to attention. But the tears were instantly gone, and though her exterior no longer showed her emotion, her voice clearly gave her away.

“No, sir; permission to speak freely, sir.”

“As you've just shown, that doesn't really matter with you, now does it.”

Her voice cracked.

“Sir, I'm begging you…permission to speak freely.”

Mustang sighed.

“Permission granted.”

Quickly, Riza rounded his desk, and spinning his chair to face her, she grasped both side of his face and kissed him on the lips. Hard. Pulling back, she smoothed a piece of jet black hair off of his eye patch, and delicately traced her fingertips over the welt that was already beginning to puff up on his sharply defined cheekbone. Gone was the voice of anger; and instead it was tender, almost loving…

“Just go talk to them, Roy.”

He sighed again, and let his eye met hers.

“You know, that was one of the meanest hooks I've ever gotten.”

Riza blushed, and lowered her eyes.

“A part of me is sorry about that. But you did deserve it.”

“Yeah, I think I did.”

Suddenly the tug of two female hands on his belt stopped any more discussion. Hawkeye pulled as his shirt, as Mustang grappled with her military coat and pants. And for a short while, the passion overtook them, as she climbed into his lap and continued to show him he wasn't alone. Slowly, the tension within both of them exploded, and with muffled cries they both came, succumbing to the need of release and the frustrations of their argument. And as she kissed his now swollen left cheek in the afterglow of their lust, Mustang sighed.

“Ok, I'll talk to them.”

 

 

 

 

 

Much Love,

The Cerulean Alchemist