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Title; Defying Death
Rating; PG-13
Fandom; Fullmetal Alchemist
Summary; Post-Ch. 100 oneshot; Hawkeye's aftermath.
Wordcount; 544
For the first second there is nothing but shock. Nothing but a sudden slash of pain, and the Colonel shouting her name, the sudden release from the swordsman's grip sending her to all fours, as blood from the slash poured forth from her neck onto the ground.
Her mind was going too fast, reeling too quickly, and her body was too slow, too unresponsive. She would be the trump card for him once more, it seemed- but the injustice of being twice used against him, with her life as the stakes, fades with the next splat of red on concrete.
This will kill her, she knows, if someone doesn't act soon- as Envy would have killed her, as Wrath could have killed her, as Pride could have killed her, as Lust would have killed her, as Gluttony would have killed her- how many times had she defied death? How many times had she been the one to act, how many times had it been the Colonel? Alphonse? How many times?
How many times has blood spurted to the floor as it does now? This will kill her.
It will make him move. But he must not. He absolutely must not move in the way they want him to. He cannot try and transmute her wound closed by opening the gate. He will lose more than just her life. Anything else, Colonel. Don't play into their hands.
Nor would she- she would not sit here and die. She hears the Colonel's voice, the words he'd spoken just after their promise- Cling greedily to life.
Her own, to Edward - Even if you look uncool.
The Colonel's before this mission, I have one order for you - do not die.
Her own, to him, too many times to count, Please don't die.
She may not have the right to go die at the time she wanted, but this was not an acceptable way- there was too much left to do.
She clamps her fingers over her neck, over the long, too-clean slash, over her already blood-soaked turtleneck, and wills the blood to stay within, instead of slicking her fingers and palms with blood, instead of leaking out between her fingers in spurts. Her heart was killing her with every beat, every beat pushed more out of her in dangerously pressurized bursts. Close, seal up, stop bleeding.
She looks up, meets the Colonel's eyes. She can tell he's ready, ready to do whatever it takes. Her hands are slippery with blood, it's hard to tell if keeping them there is doing any good, rivers of it coursing down her arms, and musters all the willpower she has that's not occupied with her neck.
He's looking at her, looking at this subordinate of his who's understood his orders far better than anyone, who's understood them at times better than he - and cannot believe that she might die, might disobey the one, most important order he had ever issued. She, still on her knees, with her life streaming out of her in spite of her hands, meets his eyes, and through the shock and pain he can see there, the unflinching steel of her will shows through, and she puts to him one final challenge.
"Don't do it."
Rating; PG-13
Fandom; Fullmetal Alchemist
Summary; Post-Ch. 100 oneshot; Hawkeye's aftermath.
Wordcount; 544
For the first second there is nothing but shock. Nothing but a sudden slash of pain, and the Colonel shouting her name, the sudden release from the swordsman's grip sending her to all fours, as blood from the slash poured forth from her neck onto the ground.
Her mind was going too fast, reeling too quickly, and her body was too slow, too unresponsive. She would be the trump card for him once more, it seemed- but the injustice of being twice used against him, with her life as the stakes, fades with the next splat of red on concrete.
This will kill her, she knows, if someone doesn't act soon- as Envy would have killed her, as Wrath could have killed her, as Pride could have killed her, as Lust would have killed her, as Gluttony would have killed her- how many times had she defied death? How many times had she been the one to act, how many times had it been the Colonel? Alphonse? How many times?
How many times has blood spurted to the floor as it does now? This will kill her.
It will make him move. But he must not. He absolutely must not move in the way they want him to. He cannot try and transmute her wound closed by opening the gate. He will lose more than just her life. Anything else, Colonel. Don't play into their hands.
Nor would she- she would not sit here and die. She hears the Colonel's voice, the words he'd spoken just after their promise- Cling greedily to life.
Her own, to Edward - Even if you look uncool.
The Colonel's before this mission, I have one order for you - do not die.
Her own, to him, too many times to count, Please don't die.
She may not have the right to go die at the time she wanted, but this was not an acceptable way- there was too much left to do.
She clamps her fingers over her neck, over the long, too-clean slash, over her already blood-soaked turtleneck, and wills the blood to stay within, instead of slicking her fingers and palms with blood, instead of leaking out between her fingers in spurts. Her heart was killing her with every beat, every beat pushed more out of her in dangerously pressurized bursts. Close, seal up, stop bleeding.
She looks up, meets the Colonel's eyes. She can tell he's ready, ready to do whatever it takes. Her hands are slippery with blood, it's hard to tell if keeping them there is doing any good, rivers of it coursing down her arms, and musters all the willpower she has that's not occupied with her neck.
He's looking at her, looking at this subordinate of his who's understood his orders far better than anyone, who's understood them at times better than he - and cannot believe that she might die, might disobey the one, most important order he had ever issued. She, still on her knees, with her life streaming out of her in spite of her hands, meets his eyes, and through the shock and pain he can see there, the unflinching steel of her will shows through, and she puts to him one final challenge.
"Don't do it."
