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08 April 2005 @ 07:52 pm
ICON this weekend!  

Hey, if there is anyone out there who reads this journal, lives in the New York area, and will be attending ICON at Stonybrook this weekend, let me know. I'll be there tomorrow and I can't wait. I haven't been to a sci-fi convention in years. I'm anxious to hit the dealers room to see what I can get. I have nothing I specifically want, but I'm always on the lookout for any cool anime T-shirts to add to my collection.

Anyway, here's this weeks entry for the FMA500 drabble challenge. The topic this week was "Atonement" Not my best work, considering I wrote it today while I was at work, but it has its charm. I'm such a bad kitty for slacking off at work.

 

Title: Sunrise in the Garden of Stone

Author: evilkat

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 15

 

 

 

 

 

“Tell me how you did it.”

 

The harsh demand startled Mustang from his guilt-riddled thoughts.  He turned his head to the angry face of the young girl that stood next to him, squinting against the rising sun.   Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were pursed in a tight line. Mustang had been hoping to avoid this very confrontation when he came to Rizenbul to collect a wayward Fullmetal, but the more time he spent in the Rockbell household, the more the remorse he thought was long buried, began to surface.    He knew had no right being here and he sure as hell didn’t have any right to be standing in front of the headstone of the two people who died at the other end of his military-issue 9mm.  Two people who only wanted to help and did what they thought was right, who didn’t deserve to have their lives cut short by a bullshit order.

 

“Excuse me?” he asked calmly, trying to portray the unflappable façade he had spent years honing. 

 

“My parents, how did you kill them?” she spat at him.

 

To say he was shocked would have been the understatement of the year.  When he crawled out of his bed in the wee hours of the morning, and made his way down the dirt-covered road to Rizenbul’s only cemetery, Roy Mustang had been unaware that another was following him in the shadows.  Which didn’t say much for a highly trained solider such as himself, but he felt he needed to come here.  He schooled his features carefully before addressing the obviously emotional distraught girl. 

 

“Miss Rockbell,” he began slowly, meaning to sound as non-threatening as possible, but she cut him off before he could get started.

 

“Don’t Miss Rockbell me.   I’ve waited ten years for this, and I want answers.”

 

Mustang opened his mouth as if to speak, but there was no sound.  How could he tell her what he did?  How could he tell her about how her parents begged and pleaded for their lives?  Or how her mother clutched the picture of her daughter in a white-knuckled grasp as the bullet from his gun tore through her chest?  Or how her father didn’t die instantly like his wife, but from a sucking chest wound, gasping, choking, drowning in his own blood as the life seeped out of him?  No, he was not that heartless.    

 

“I shot them,” he answered simply and her expression softened slightly.  “I shot them and I have regretted it every minute of every day since then.  Now, if you’ll excuse me.”  He brushed by her with the intention of heading back to the house.  No good would come from him staying and answering her questions. 

 

“Wait, Mustang sir,” she called after him, her rage ebbing.  He paused, but did not turn around.  “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what I would say if I ever met the person who killed my parents,” she said to his back.  “I wasted so much time hating a person who never had a face or a name.  When I found out that it was you…I…I did hate you, but it wasn’t the same.  You weren’t a monster like the one I imagined in my head.  You want to change things and…” She paused to take a shuddering breath.  “You look after my Edward too.  Don’t deny it,” she added when Mustang’s shoulders tightened.  “I guess…I guess what I mean is, that while I can’t say that I won’t always hate you in some way for my parents, I understand things a little better now.   I’m sorry I yelled at you before.”

 

Mustang looked over his shoulder at the young girl.  She looked so much like her mother and was just as tenacious.  He did not smile when he acknowledged her with a small nod, but turned back and continued to walk stiffly along the pebble-strewn path.  She was well within her right to hate him, and as long as there was breath in his lungs, he would spend the rest of his day atoning for his greatest mistake. 

 

That thought offered him no comfort; it was just the way things had to be.   

 

Later all!

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