Canon Amelioration

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Branch

Keeping characters alive without completely breaking the canon. I would not actually wish to change the events the show; it would sacrifice too much of the emotional impact. For the purposes of fic, however, and of me getting to play with the full cast of characters at given times and places, there are people I want to assume different endings for. These are the stories where I rationalize those different endings.

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"Detour" published on 2004-12-11 17:57:04.

"Long Enough - One" published on 2005-12-01 18:20:28.

"Long Enough - Two" published on 2005-12-01 18:21:46.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on September 6, 2019 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is "Vita Lilajor" by Anders Zorn, public domain (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anders_Zorn_-_Vita_liljor.jpg).

Cover design by Branch.

Detour

Roy and Gracia discuss some difficult plans. Angst with Drama, I-4, spoilers ep 25.

Gracia Hughes had been blessed with an innocent face. It had served her well, as the wife of an investigator. She had also been blessed with a sharp mind, which had served her even better as the wife of Maas Hughes, in particular. She knew why Mustang was making the suggestion he was, and she knew she would be able to do it.

She just didn't like it.

"I want to go with him," she insisted. "Surely it will be safer for all of us, especially since I doubt Alicia can remember to talk about her father as if he were dead. Some of that can be passed off as a child not understanding, but still."

Mustang didn't turn away from the window. "It would be better if you told her he is dead. It could become the truth at any time." His tone was cool and factual.

Gracia finally lost her hard-held composure at this suggestion, and snarled. She stalked closer to him and wrenched him around by the shoulder to face her. The names she wanted to call him stopped on her tongue, though, when she saw the harsh lines frozen around his mouth. They reminded her that Mustang had known her husband even longer than she had. Her lips tightened.

"That doesn't answer me."

"If you disappear with no explanation, questions will be asked. It will put Hughes back in danger if whoever tried to kill him suspects he's still alive." Mustang measured out his words as if they were some precious resource, flat eyes looking through her.

"All right," she conceded after a moment. That did make sense, in the unbending operational logic she was used to from listening to Maas talk about his work. "But I'm not telling Alicia he's dead. If I tell her that her father's gone away for a while, that will be close enough to the lies people tell children." She watched Mustang's face for any hint of give, prepared to fight for this one, even if she had to fight dirty and start making less veiled references to the Elric boys.

The bitter straightness of his mouth didn't flinch, but his eyes were helpless and lost for one instant before he turned away from her again. "Do as you like."

His brusque tone made her want to give him a solid kick in the shins. Or perhaps higher. But the memory of something Maas had once said held her back. When Mustang actually sounds angry, he'd noted with a wry smile, that's when you know you've got hold of the real him. And the real Mustang was her husband's dearest friend; Maas trusted him. In the end, so did Gracia. So, instead of smacking him, she did something that was probably crueler. She closed her hands over those squared shoulders and leaned her forehead, wearily, against his back.

"Don't, Roy," she said, very quietly.

A shudder ran through him, and the shoulders under her hands jerked with a harsh breath, and she felt tears prickle in her own eyes. Again. She swallowed them back.

"I'm going to say goodbye to him. And then I'll see you at the funeral." It wasn't real, she reminded herself as her throat closed. It wasn't real. Not yet. She straightened and stepped toward the doors to the next room where her husband lay, unconscious.

"Gracia."

She stopped.

"I'm sorry." Mustang's voice was low and hoarse, and as ragged as her heart had felt when she first saw Maas lying so very still.

Gracia sighed, scrubbing both hands over her face. Yes, she remembered, it was just like Roy Mustang to think he was responsible for everything and everyone. She came back to him and stretched on her toes to plant a light kiss on his cheek. She tasted salt on her lips.

"You're an idiot," she corrected, gently. "He'll live. He will." The repetition was fierce, and he finally looked down at her again. "What you have to do now is succeed. You hear me?"

The shadow of a smile eased his mouth. "Yes, ma'am."

Gracia nodded briskly, the way she did when she'd finally managed to get Alicia's boots, gloves and hood on in the winter, and crossed into the other room with her head high.

Once there, she sagged down into the chair beside Maas' bed with an unvoiced sigh. She brushed her fingers through his carefully washed and combed hair, and settled her hand on his chest so she could feel him breathing.

"This isn't going to be easy," she whispered. "I don't even know exactly where you're going to be. Or how our clever Mustang-taisa intends to spirit you out of here. Oh, I know why," she added, waving her free hand. "It's just going to be hard. A hard time." She swallowed thickly, looking down at the unresponsive face. "But no one can possibly say you haven't done your part. So sleep well, love. I'll be home, waiting, when you wake up."

She pressed a kiss to Maas' warm, still lips, brushed away the tears that fell on his face, and stood. She didn't bother to dry the tears from her own face, as she walked out. They were only appropriate to a woman whose husband was dead.

End

Long Enough - One

Scar's experience at Lior, and after. Drama, I-3, spoilers ep 42.

One

The world was red. Red with blood. Red with pain clawing through his body. Red with the light rising around him. He watched it brighten, growing as each breath slowed, until one last breath felt like it wasn't air any more. The world was red, and he was red, light and hollow and and rising like the glow.

The light flickered. Faltered. He blinked and didn't feel his eyes. Was it finished already? Shouldn't it be longer, for all the soldiers to die, like he was dying? Like he was...

An image hit him like a hammer, of the circle over the city, completed by his body.

His body.

The last length of the array wasn't inscribed. It was only... filled. And now it was being emptied as the array consumed him along with everything else.

Now he struggled. Now he grasped after that last length of the pattern with hands that only existed any more in his mind. His will. He had to hang on. He had to stay, or the circle would fail. He had to stay just a little longer.

Revenge. Lives. Solid life, condensed into Stone. Into flesh. Into metal. His remaining flesh had to stay or it would all be for nothing. The lives that the army had eaten. The life that his brother had given him. The life and chance and curse he had passed on to Alphonse Elric.

He clutched at solidity, at presence, fighting against the rising current of red. He had to stay just a little longer. Just long enough. He had to hold on.

Hold on.

He felt his fingers digging into the dirt and the light surged up. Red speared the sky. The world was red.

Black followed after it.

Long Enough - Two

Scar's experience at Lior, and after. Drama, I-3, spoilers ep 42.

Two

The cool hardness of shaded sand was under his head. Under his back. Under his hands. There was a reason this shouldn't be so. His eyes drifted open as he tried to remember what it was. The black-haired woman who was not her sat near with her back to a rock and her knees drawn up, watching him. She stirred as his eyes found her.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by now," she said, clinically. "You're the most willful human I've ever met. Though the Fullmetal boy could give you competition." Her mouth twisted. "Perhaps we've been selecting the wrong workers all along."

Fullmetal... Elric. The little brother. The city. He sat up abruptly, clutching at the sand under him as his head swam and the world swayed in a dizzy circle. Circle.

"Why am I still alive?" He frowned at her. "Did you...?"

She leaned her head back against the broken stone and laughed, sweet and cold. "We can't do alchemy; only humans can. I couldn't have interfered in a transmutation if I'd tried." She left her head tilted back, staring up at the sky. "I just found you afterwards."

He levered himself up to his knees to look around and stopped as he felt his hands, his arms under him. Shock froze his lungs. He lifted two hands up and watched them shake. "What?" He didn't recognize his own voice.

She glanced back at him and her bare shoulders shifted with a short breath of amusement. "You were in the middle of the transmutation of the Philosopher's Stone. What surprises you?" She stood and looked down at him. "Now it's really goodbye."

Later he would remember her fingers brushing through his hair as she walked out onto empty sand and away.

End