A KIND SMILE

Van  still  can’t  believe  all  of  this;  he’s  alive,  the  boys  are  whole   again  and  Trisha,  (  oh  Trisha,  how  he  long  he  waited  for  his  mortal  end  but,  )  there she is,  alive.  They’re  all  alive.  He’d  been  dealt  a  hand  that  no-one  would’ve  wanted  but,  now  if  people  knew  what  he  and  his  family  had  been  through  and  come  out  of,  they’d  be  scrambling  to  snatch  the  cards  out  of  his  hands.  Whilst  their  home  was  gone,  burnt  to  its  foundations,  ashes  blowing  across  the  countryside,  their  family  was  made  anew.  Like  their  home,  all  of  them  were  broken  and  burnt  in  someway,  but  all  of  them  have  a  chance  to  start  again,  from  the  foundation.

Sat  at  his  new  desk,  in  his  new  office,  Hohenheim  was  writing  everything  he  could  down,  he  was  currently  discussing  his  67th  year  of  immortality,  whilst  he  was  still  in  Xing—-  He  heard  it,  glass shattering.  His  heart  stopped.  Trisha. The  only  thought  on  his  mind  as  he  rushed  out  of  his  office,  down  the  stairs,  her  name  on  his  lips,  “  Trisha?  ”  

He  froze,  for  a  second,  turning  the  corner  to  the  kitchen,  trisha  slumped  on  the  floor.  “  TRISHA!  ”  He  rushed  to  her  side,  kneeling  next  to  her  and  pulling  her  on  to  her  lap,  not  caring  about  the  glass  digging  into  his  legs.  With  two  fingers  on  her  pulse  point,  his  heart  started  beating  again,  she  is  still  alive. He  needed  to  move  her  off  the  floor,  to  soft  surface  but,  what  he  really  needed  was  help.  Gently  lifting  her  up,  (  head  on  his  elbow,  knees  over  his  other  arm,  )  he  started  walking  to  the  stairs,  his  voice  bellowing,  “  EDWARD?  ALPHONSE?  ”  

he’s  not  sure  he  has  the  strength  or  heart  to  do  this  alone.

For a few moments, the woman drifted in and out of consciousness ; her vision varying from completely black to the blurry face of her husband. Trisha couldn’t quite get a grasp of just what was going on, her head fuzzy and throbbing from the impact of the wooden floor. 

She finally gained her consciousness after a few more moments, but kept her eyes squeezed shut, trying to will away that dizziness and remember what led to this. The smell of a cooking roast hit her nose first, telling her she had been cooking dinner ... then she remember the feeling of a water glass in her hand ... ah- that was it. She had fainted while cooking. She had pushed herself far too hard today.

Fainting meme // accepting. 

TRISHA HAD BECOME QUITE WEAK since she had been brought back from the dead ; tiring was quick and illness was frequent, after all ... she hadn’t a full soul anymore! The woman was always aware of when to sit and rest, but tonight she just had too many chores she had to get to! The laundry had been done and folded, kitchen had been cleaned, and Trisha was in the process of cooking dinner. It first started with the initial wave of dizziness, and ten her vision began to grow blurry. She had to be just a bit dehydrated, right? 

she may as well have been born with her arms folded across her chest; olivier’s first line of defence is a barrier of blood && bone. ❛THE NORTHERN WALL OF BRIGGS❜, indeed. lashes brush against winter’s skin when she closes her eyes, pulling down the curtains over windows between perception && reality… neither of which make any more sense than the other. everything is grey… disgustingly grey…

she doesn’t like it && it shows. she doesn’t even try to hide her sentiments – dour && mirthless, as they are. why then, does a dead (?) woman insist on such an amiable display? why is a glower received with a smile? does this woman expect olivier to return the courtesy? THAT IS NOT THE BRIGGS WAY.

❝did I say something funny? i don’t remember telling any jokes, mrs. elric– ❞ saying her name out loud sets off a chain reaction of cognitive dissonance that leaves her feeling, in all honesty, nauseated. ❝this is bullshit…❞

Though the soldier before her, with a stare as cold as the ice that clung to Briggs, frowned at her every word, her tone of voice not hinting friendliness in any way ... Trisha couldn’t help but keep that motherly, kind smile on her face. If she weren’t foolishly patient, then what would she be, really? 

“I suppose this reaction is expected. Afterall ... I’m sure you were told I was dead. That I was the reason my sons sacrificed so much for nothing at all.” There was a hint of something in her voice, though ... it was hard to decipher. Was it bitterness? Was it impatience? Annoyance? Irritation? It’s hard to tell, what with that smile on her face.

But ... if one were to look into those gentle eyes, one would see a tired mother. Someone who was in such pain and confusing. Was she meant to be alive? Was that truly God that she encountered? She doubted the woman in front of her would know. 

THERE’S SURPRISE WITHIN GINJI’S body language, noticeable even before the woman spoke out to him. While it could easily be seen as an intentional action, it was by complete accident that he happened to step atop the wildflowers. Immediately does the larger male find himself jumping back, looking toward the mother and bowing.

❝…My apologies- I simply didn’t notice them whilst walking down this path..I don’t mind paying for the damages if necessary.❞

there’s a tiredness to her smile that there wasn’t before. that’s all he knows. even though she’s coughing & coughing & coughing & flushed — alphonse doesn’t notice that it’s hard for her to stand, but she’s been ill. edward must have noticed more because he’s been shepherding alphonse left & right — yelling at him like he always does ( for everything ) when he accidentally rips the pages of the book he steals from the bookshelf, when he tugs gets too nosy about what edward’s doing. but he’s used to edward’s yelling — but he still feels frustration welling up inside of him. because as much as he may idolize his brother — he isn’t trisha. & edward can’t read, so he can’t fall asleep easily at night. no matter how edward may hope that he falls asleep & shut up . . . though alphonse thinks they’re both reluctant to gage when it’s time to fall asleep.

       so for now — he climbs onto her bed & presses his hand against her thinning cheek.  although the doctor had come & gone … she still didn’t seem to be feeling better.    ‘    nothing broke today !   ‘

Oh how hard it must be on her poor sons ... Trisha knew how badly the two of them needed a mother and a father ... and while she tried her hardest to make up for the lack of Van Hohenheim in their lives, it only proved to stress her out, to make her too sick to function. 

But she was trying! Trisha was trying her damnedest to get better, to get back on her feet, just for her boys. Not only that ... but, to keep that promise she had made to their father. Trisha was meant to wait for him! It broke her heart thinking she had to break such an important promise.

The only distraction she had from the ending she was sure coming to her was the two little sons that stayed by her side day in and day out. The way Edward would show her things he transmuted, and the way Alphonse sat upon her bed, politely waiting for her to get better.  

    Busy. Incredibly busy. That’s all the Rockbell household has been as of late; Winry had to meet a bunch of deadlines and was scrambling, a blonde blur around the house. Ed had simply been watching with amusement and trying to soothe her stress in the meantime with copious cups of coffee and tea and the occasional shoulder rub.

    The door opens all of a sudden. Geez! No decency to even knock? Ed’s got his back turned to the door while he tries to shove a button-down into his briefcase, the fabric already wrinkled.

    “We’re workin’ as fast as we can,” Ed says irritatedly to the obviously impatient customer as he jams the last bunch of fabric into the case. “Be a little patient, yeah?” Then he turns around and comes face to face with the last person he ever expected to see. He chokes on the words before he can push them out into existence.

                         ——————————————–”What?”

That isn’t possible. How does she look exactly the same as she did when she — no, no that isn’t her. It’s gotta be a homunculus or something. Some new Envy type——- that’s the only explanation!

    “……..Who…” throat feeling more reminiscent of sandpaper, Ed swallows thickly and wills the words up, “Who are you?” His voice is guarded and nothing short of CAUTIOUS. Hughes had trusted Envy too much and that was how he had been killed. At once Ed becomes sickeningly aware that he doesn’t have his alchemy anymore, but his fists still ball at his side, adrenaline ramming in his ears like a tidal wave.

Of all the things that Trisha had expected, it wasn’t that defensive face of Edwards’. Oh yes, she definitely wanted to see him, bring him into her arms once more.... but at the same time she was cautious, almost different to how she was all those years ago. And he was different himself, wasn’t he? She could tell by the way he went right into a stance, one ready to throw the first punch if need be. But he didn’t have to worry about that ... though she couldn’t blame him for not trusting what was in front of him. 

For a moment, Trisha felt weak in the knees, but she didn’t move, not even when her anxious hands threatened to let go of that basket of apples. Calm down, Trisha, she repeated to herself, her gaze locked with Edwards’,  unwavering. 

“I’m... your mother.” The woman finally said, though for some reason, those words sounded fake coming out of her mouth. Was it because she looked like she hadn’t aged in nearly ten years? Technically, she hadn’t. Ever since she had came back, something had been off. Small pricks of knives peeling apples healed nearly automatically, and burns from hot pans left no blisters upon her skin. Truthfully, she wasn’t even sure if she was human anymore. 

She’s pale and sickly - looking just like before - even the smile he loved so much. Dammit he needed to pull it together. She was right - Al was strong - stronger than he was that was for sure. It was his brother’s strength that had powered him through these years and if he didn’t get his act together no doubt Alphonse would surely clobber him for it. 

But her hand is on his automail now, wrapping around it and she’s not speaking a word to it - nothing at all. He jerks it back, holds it to his chest in a fist and covers it with his real hand…his human hand. Wasn’t she….surely she knew….surely Pinako told her …so then wasn’t she… wasn’t she mad? Was’t she disappointed in them? In him?  Wasn’t she upset over what he did to them …. to his brother? 

Wasn’t she mad? 

She had to be. 

Here she was telling him not to push down his own feelings like it was a simple thing to do…even more so when he’d spent the last eleven years doing just that…he never even allowed himself to grieve, though now he apparently didn’t have to.  He wondering how that all worked….and honestly he wondered for a moment if it might be some kind of trick. The homunculi had their eyes and ears on his every move - would they sink this low?

Envy himself boasted about how easy it was to pull the trigger on a helpless child, surely watching him crumble into a useless heap over the revival of his dead mother would be something that bastard would relish in. 

“Aren’t you… aren’t you mad?”  He sounds, pulling himself back from her a little as he still clutches his automail to his chest - ashamed that if this truly is his mother - she has to see him in such a broken state.  “Aren’t you mad at me? Fer what I did….fer losing Al….fer….almost killin’ him…” There’s a pause as he looks at her confused, ready to analyze every word that comes out of her mouth from their point on and to process every touch; every motion with the upmost care. 

He needed to know if this truly was his mother - was this truly Trisha Elric?

His heart clenched in his chest at the thought and he felt his body grow heavy with anticipation…he almost felt like he was holding his breath. 

“Aren’t you ashamed of me?” 

Ashamed? No .... Trisha could never be truly ashamed at her children. Yes, they did something entirely stupid, and they certainly did pay the price for it, but, they did in desperation. They were left without either parent, as she saw, the only person to care for them was Pinako, and she was a bit too old to be dealing with three kids! No... if Trisha was ashamed and disappointed in anyone, it would’ve been Van Hohenheim. 

Don’t get her wrong, she understood why he had to go. She understood what was at stake, but, she also understood that he had a duty as a father to these two boys. It was unacceptable that he never once came back to Resembool... but, Trisha couldn’t assume what exactly he was doing, was he was thinking. That was a confrontation for another day, if Van Hohenheim lived to face her. 

Without a second thought, the mother gently took that metallic hand back into hers, fingers enveloping the cold metal. “I could never feel nothing but love for you, or Alphonse.” Her eyes momentarily dropped to the hand she held, a sad look crossing in that gaze of hers. “I only wish it never came to this. I wish neither you or your brother got caught up in such taboo.” 

Her graze rose to meet his, her eyes wavering just a bit. Never once had she managed to cry in front of her boys knowingly, she always prided herself on being strong, but this time ... seeing that vulnerable look upon the boys’ face absolutely broke her heart. “If only I had held on for you two back then...” her voice trailed of as her hands fell from his, one reaching to wipe her eyes with the back of it-- this wasn’t the time for crying, for self pity! What’s done is done, the past cannot be changed.