Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ I Skip the Little Ones ❯ Theme 17: Scars ( Chapter 16 )

A/N: These next few themes will be out of order because they all relate and I think they make more sense this way. Be sure to tell me what you think, especially when the next few come out and the reasons for their order become more apparent. :) Also, a great big THANK YOU to mhmartini on Mediaminer (You're my first reviewer on the site, by the way, so thanks doubly for restoring my faith in MM) and Starry Pink and mebh on FF. I love you guys…/girls.

 

Theme 17: Scars

Lying to Myself

 

Six years after the Führer's Unfinished Speech

1:22A.M., Führer's Mansion

Bedroom of the Führer and his Wife

 

External scars were worse than internal scars.

 

At least, that was what she told herself every time she saw one of his scars.

 

There was one on his hand from when he was a child - from an accident with a piece of twisted metal. He refused to talk about it until one of his sisters had threatened to tell her.

 

Then there was one on his calf. That one came from Ishbal, and it wasn't alone in its origin. It was just the most noticeable.

 

There was also a huge twisted scar on the left side of his stomach. It, and its twin on his back, were both earned by his fight with the Homunculus Lust.

 

External scars were worse than internal scars.

 

The homunculus's scars never failed to make her shudder, to move a bit closer to him. The echo of that anger and hollow pain was frightening to her. She had lost her calm, but… She had almost lost him that day; it was almost too much to bear.

 

But the worst scars - the worst scars were in his chest. One ran across his right pectoral and down his front. The other was a circular shape just below the beginning of the first. Her hand traced the diagonal scar idly, her mind flashing, for the briefest of moments, to that day.

 

“ROY!”

 

Bang! Bang, bang, bang!

 

“Oh my God!”

He grimaced and stiffened in his sleep, abruptly wrenching her from her remembered daylight nightmares. She watched him carefully, hoping he would relax and sleep peacefully. No such luck. He grunted, then: “No… It's not… leave… alone… I can't… so sorry…no… don't die…”

 

She gently stroked his face, brushing his unruly hair back. “It's me, Roy. Everything's alright. Go to sleep.” Sometimes that was all it took. Sometimes.

 

But not this time. The dream continued, unaltered, and she reluctantly shook his shoulders, waking him. “C'mon, Roy.”

 

His eyes flew open. For a moment he stared blankly past her. Then his clouded eyes `focused.'

 

“Riza?”

 

“Yes, it's just me. You were having a bad dream.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“…What was it about?”

 

“… I don't really remember.” She could tell he was lying. “Go back to sleep,” he said quietly, gently kissing the heel of her hand. “It's fine.”

 

He was lying. Again. She resisted the urge to touch one of her own scars, a clean line at her neck. She knew exactly what he had been dreaming about. It still gave her nightmares, too. …the look on his face. The warmth began to seep out of her, and she had the terrible feeling that she was letting him down, that she'd been too weak…

 

“Mm-hm,” She snuggled closer to him, closing her eyes.

 

External scars were worse than internal scars.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

Times like tonight made it harder to believe that impossible lie.