#broken au.

the door opens, and maes looks up to see ROY.  something snaps in him seeing his best friend in the world.  he inhales sharply, eyes brimming with tears.  “r -- roy, roy, i -- “  and then he feels his chest tighten.

“i c-- can’t --  i -- ”  the panic seizes him, and he can’t breathe.  every time he inhales, he feels like he can’t catch his breath.  “roy,  roy -- ” he’s begging.  for what?  he doesn’t know.  maes can’t breathe, he can’t, he can’t --- 

     he SHAVED, and it makes him look younger  --  like his age.  maes isn’t even thirty years old yet.  he shaved because he needed control over something.  the last few days have been. . .  he’s blacked out most of it, but he’s aware that . . . the WORST THING IN THE WORLD has happened.  maes couldn’t stay home, and fuhrer bradley had been kind enough to personally put him in one of the nicer hotels in central.  the man had asked him weird questions about his attack, but honestly it’s too much of a blur for him to remember anything.  ( to which bradley just put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed, expressing his condolences before leaving him to the SILENCE again. ) 

maes’ forgot that riza was even sitting there across from him when he looks up to see her.  he’d been holding a mug in his hand, and the tea has gone cold.  “oh, uh -- would you like some more tea, riza?”  oddly enough, he hasn’t cried yet.  maybe he did on the night it happened, but he can’t remember.  “sorry, i ...”  he trails off mid-sentence and then stands, holding out his hand for the mug in hers.

these are mostly just spit-balling ideas just now? but also? 

MAIN AU. envy shoots him but not in the heart, and he passes out. he’s found by a soldier and taken to the hospital, where he’s in a coma for a while. when he wakes up in the timeline could be thread dependent? 

BROKEN AU. envy leaves killing hughes to lust after discovering a picture of his family while following him in central. in case lust fails (and perhaps out of jealousy for the happy family), envy murders gracia & elicia. hughes survives the attack from lust, calls roy, and then discovers his family that night. he’s broken, horrified into silence. 

maes is sitting in a beautiful meadow, watching as his daughter hurries over to him.  he smiles at her as she holds up a finger painting.  the shapes are good;  she’s getting better.  “you’ve become quite the artist, elicia!” 

“thanks, papa!  can i go run in the flowers?”  and with a nod of his head, elicia hurries off to run circles in the flowers.  it’s quiet before he hears -- “she’s becoming quite the young lady.”  he looks up to see gracia standing over him.  his chest feels so warm seeing his wife.

“she’s becoming just like her wonderful, beautiful mom.”  maes hums as gracia touches his cheek.  they stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment, and then something changes.  the sound of thunder booms.

“i waited, maes.  you told me to wait, and i waited.”  gracia says, and she’s gripping at his face tighter.  “i waited -- “  her voice becomes distorted, and suddenly blood is gushing from her nose and mouth, “i waited -- and you didn’t come home --”  claws are tearing at him.  

“i’m sorry -- i’m sorry -- i -- “  and then he’s running away from the clawed monster, looking around for elicia.  “elicia?  elicia!?”  and he stops when he sees --

maes shoots up in his hospital bed, hyperventilating.  “NO!”  he screams, and then he’s shakily touching over himself.  his shoulder throbs, and he grips it, bowing his head forward.  he’d passed out when he got to the crime scene.  it had been too much for him to handle.  honestly, it still doesn’t feel real.  if not for the pain he feels, he would think it was all a bad dream.

he doesn’t know that anyone else is in the room with him.  he’s lost in blankness again before he just cards his fingers through his messy dark hair.  he remains like that, just trying to breathe.  maybe this is a fucking nightmare.  maybe he will wake up.  maybe. . .

a few weeks had passed since the funeral, and maes was still in complete shock.  he’s a little more... coherent these days, but he still disassociates for extended periods of time, and he’s... sad.  he’d started shaving his face at first, but now he’s let a thicker beard grow in.  he’s stopped taking care of himself.  he’s a mess, just existing in the hotel room, barely leaving it.  bradley has extended him extreme kindness, giving him leave for as long as he needs.  the homunculi got what they wanted;  they crippled the only person who’d figured it out.  

roy keeps sending members of his team to visit him, and while he appreciates the company... he hates feeling so vulnerable.  but everything is just... hard.  “sergeant fuery,”  he greets as he opens the door.  “it’s... good to see you.”  

      “ -- -- hm?”   maes dissaociates AGAIN, barely hearing the words armstrong says to him.  he’s sitting on the bed in his hospital room in just his tank top and army pants.  there’s bandages wrapped over his shoulder and stained blood still on his hands and arms.  he blinks a few times before removing his glasses, cleaning them against the shirt with trembling hands.  he’s been awake for over twenty-four hours at this point.  nothing feels. . . REAL.  “sorry, what -- did you say?”  sentences are not processing.  nothing is processing.  

the vivid images are still THERE whenever he closes his eyes. ruthless gore. whoever killed his family had fun with it. maes was going to be sick AGAIN. gracia’s dead stare. elicia’s. . . it makes him cry whenever he imagines it -- frequently, often. he’s hardly eaten. he can’t sleep. he hasn’t said more than one-word sentences in weeks. they BROKE him. they took his family away from him and rendered him useless. it was one way to keep him quiet for KNOWING TOO MUCH. he refuses to go back to the apartment. he’ll never be able to sleep in his bed again, in that place again. the bodies are long gone. the funerals passed. but the ghosts still lurk, and he cannot handle their CRIES.