Winning
A
FMA Fic
By
Jaelle
Disclaimer: Not mine. No
infringement intended.
POV: Ed's thoughts during a
debriefing.
Actual conversation during debriefing.
Blah
blah blah... I’m so tired of giving reports. It’s stupid and boring and
pointless anyway. You already know how I did, and what I did. Smug
bastard. I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you because you have already
won.
The
battle is still going, the fighting is fierce, but in the end it’s all
futile. You’ve won. You know it. I know it. But I’ll be damned if I’ll
admit it.
I hate to lose, you know that? Of
course you do, why am I even asking that question?
Don’t answer that.
There’s nothing
in this world I hate more than losing. I’m not good at it. I’m a bad
loser. I’m not a great victor either, but I’m really a very bad loser.
I suspect you’d be even worse than me, but since I’ve never seen you
lose, I guess I’ll have to wait to find out. I’m not sure I want to be
around when that happens, or if it ever happens, but I won’t back down.
You never backed down from me, so I guess I can return the favour.
If you smirk at me ONE MORE TIME I
swear I’ll kill you. Right here. Right now.
Yeah,
that’s right, get into your lecture mode. Shit, for a fire-wielder you
sure know how to turn on the ice. Yeah, yeah, go on, call me a child.
Yep, there it is.
Asshole.
Sometimes I wonder what would
happen if I were to do something completely insane in front of you.
Strip naked, or try to kiss you, or start singing about the summertime.
You’d probably think it was a prank. Then you’d get all cold again. I
hate it when you’re cold. I hate it because you’re at your most honest
then, and some days I just can’t cope with honesty.
Not that you care. I’m sure you
think it’s for my own good.
And who the hell said that you got to decide what was for my own good?
You’re not my father. You’re not my teacher. You’re not my mentor.
You’re just my boss.
Oh
fine. I suppose you are all those other things too. Well obviously
you’re not my ACTUAL father, but if I calculated the amount of time
spent with each of you and the amount of life lessons learnt during
that time you’d win by a huge margin. Again. I hate the way you win all
the time.
Hey, now there’s a thought. What if
I started calling
you “Dad”? I bet that would be hilarious the first time. You’d be
wondering if it was just a slip, and then you’d start freaking out
about what this meant and whether I was serious or not and...
And then you’d probably ground me
or something. Damn. No, too risky. Okay, you get off this time. Bastard.
What
the hell did I do to deserve YOU for this? Well, besides the obvious.
Alright, alright, yes, it’s my own fault, I should have looked before I
leaped, should have thought, should have done something, ANYTHING
differently, should have not been such an arrogant little shit as to
think I could defy the Gods and everyone and do the impossible and move
the heavens and earth with my will. I’m sorry. I promise never, EVER to do it again.
But sorry doesn’t fix things, no matter what other stupid adults tell
me.
Do NOT make a comment about my
height.
I TOLD YOU NOT TO MAKE A COMMENT
ABOUT MY HEIGHT!!!
YES I LOST MY TEMPER AGAIN! YOU
CALLED ME SHORT!!! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU EXPECTING?!!!
Aarrrgghhh!!!
You are the world’s most infuriating man, you know that? I have never
met anyone who can piss me off as well as you do. Another thing you do
better than anyone. Like you even needed another one, Colonel Perfect.
Okay, okay, FINE. I will reign in my temper. I don’t need Al to hold me
back. I can behave. See? I’m mature! I’m an adult. I’m a State
Alchemist and a dog of the military and all sorts of other unpleasant
things so just shut up and get in a dig at my expense.
Ouch.
That one really hurt. Jerk. Fine, I deserved it. I’m sorry, again. Yes,
I got your point. No, I won’t do it again. Can we get back on track
now? Yes? No? For the love of... I don’t WANT to follow your twisted
thinking! I don’t! Stop trying to make me!
I am going to deliberately
misunderstand the very next statement that comes out of your mouth.
Sucker.
Don’t
look at me like that. DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! I am not a child!
Well, yes I am a child, technically, but that still doesn’t...
You don't
get to be disappointed with me. You don’t. You’re not allowed. And I
shouldn’t have to feel like I let you down. I don’t owe you anything!
You’re nothing to me! We have a deal, that’s all, and you have a hold
on me but you need me and I’m just a tool and that’s all I should be
and I shouldn’t have to feel like the world’s just dropped out from
underneath me just because I made you think that I was still too
naïve
to truly understand and I do but I don’t want to. I don’t want to. It
hurts.
And I hurt you too. I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to. I was
just... just... Why are you letting me hurt you? I shouldn’t have that
kind of power over you! You shouldn’t have it over me! Please don’t be
angry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Sorry doesn’t fix anything. I know
that. But I don’t want to know all the answers sometimes, because it
hurts. And I don’t want to see things the same way you do, because that
hurts too. It’s too much pain. I don’t know how you bear it. I have
enough pain of my own, I don’t want to shoulder more. But watching you
lift it all for me... it’s too much. It’s too heavy for you. It’s too
heavy for anyone.
I don’t want to see this, I don’t
want to know this. But I can’t hide from it much
longer. I can’t hide from you
much longer. The battle between us is still raging, and I could keep
the fight going for months. But would it be worth it? We both know how
it will end. There are worse things in this world than you. I know that
better than anyone. Can I justify continuing to expend my resources
against an opponent who isn’t really my enemy, just out of childish
spite?
And in just asking the question,
I’ve answered it. I'm
thinking like you now. You’ve won, Colonel. You won weeks ago, I just
wouldn’t acknowledge it. But too much is happening now. I can’t keep
fighting you and everyone else at the same time. So you win again, like
always. It’s time to stop being a bad loser.
“Fullmetal? Do you understand your
orders?”
“Yes.”
“Then was there anything else?”
“Yes. Do you ever get tired of winning?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Winning. Do you ever get tired of it?”
Yes,
look me in the eyes. I’m serious. I mean it, I want to know. There’s a
white flag waving in my head. I surrender. You win. It won’t make
either of us happy right now, but it has to change.
I’m so tired of fighting all the
time. I would like to try peace.
“Victory
doesn’t always taste like ashes, Fullmetal. Nor is it always sweet. It
varies, depending on the circumstances and the behaviour of the
combatants afterwards."
I'm curious now, but I can't quite
keep all the sarcasm out of my voice.
"So how does this one taste?"
I wonder if I'll get an answer. You
seem to be thinking about it, and your smirk has gone.
"Like hot steel."
And I guess I can live with that.
"Thank you, Mustang-taisa."
“No problem. And Fullmetal?”
“Yes?”
“Good luck on your mission.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Thank you.
A/N: And
Roy & Ed mentor/protégé + father/son relationship
beats in my head
again. I so hate to admit this, but the “I am going to deliberately
misunderstand the very next statement that comes out of your mouth” is
something I’m still prone to doing in arguments when I'm
feeling obnoxious and want to piss someone off. Bad me.