Not Ready To Make Nice

[(Dixie Chicks)]

Forgive? Sounds good

Forget? I’m not sure I could

They say “Time heals everything”

But I’m still waiting

Ed had protected her. She’d been about to make a huge mistake, and he’d stopped her. She could almost feel the cool metal of the gun in her hand; she could almost see the look of indifference on Scar’s face.

“Will the suffering never end?” He had said that. He had told her she had the right to shoot him. She stared out the train window. Would I have done it if Ed hadn’t stopped me? A feeling of unease settled into her stomach. Would she have?

She couldn’t be sure.

I’m through with doubt

There’s nothing left to figure out

I’ve paid a price

And I’ll keep paying

The train sped to a stop, but it wasn’t her destination. The woman across from her had been looking at her with concern, but it was her stop, so she got off. Winry pressed her cheek against the cool glass of the window.

A little boy next to her was getting off with the woman, but he asked, “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Winry smiled, but it turned out like a grimace, her pain-streaked face betraying her words.

The little boy left, running a hand through his already messy light brown hair.

Cuz I’m not ready to make nice

I’m not ready to back down

I’m still mad as hell and I don’t have time

To go ‘round and ‘round and ‘round

It’s too late to make a right

Probably wouldn’t if I could

I’m still mad as hell, can’t bring myself

To do what it is you think I should

She sighed heavily. She was now alone.

Not that she wasn’t used to it. Sure, she had work, her grandmother if she went home, occasionally Ed and Al. But in her mind she’d always felt more alone than anyone else. Her mother and father were long gone, and the other children she’d seen at school, being picked up by their parents, kissing their parents good-bye. She’d never had that.

And it was all his fault.

I know you said

Why can’t I just get over it

It turned my whole world around

And I kind of like it

When an officer had led her to the train station, mumbling something about being ordered to by the Fullmetal Alchemist, she could still hear Ed’s voice in her head, “These are hands that let people live.”

Were they? How was she supposed to be sure?

A burning hatred rested in her throat. This was all that man’s fault. They treated him, and he killed them. Murdered them. How could he do that? Did he even feel remorse, guilt, anything for that? She remembered that look in his eyes she’d seen for just a moment. Pity. She was determined to prove to everyone that she didn’t want to be felt sorry for anymore. That was the reason tears weren’t spilling from her eyes at that very moment.

How dare he pity her? Even for just a split second? How could he have done this to her?

So I made my bed and I sleep like a baby

With no regrets and I don’t mind saying

She missed Ed and Al. They were always getting into trouble. Were they determined to die, or get seriously hurt? Determined to leave her, just like her parents. Yet at the same time, her parents hadn’t left her. They’d been taken away from her.

How could that man have done this to someone he didn’t even know? She could practically hear what Ed would have said: “He hates alchemists.” They weren’t alchemists, though. They were doctors. She wasn’t sure how he would have reacted to that.

Her stomach was hurting and she was getting a headache. She’d never hated someone that much. Never in her life. The only condolence she had was that she finally knew what had really happened to them.

It’s a sad, sad story that a mother would teach her

Daughter that she oughta hate a perfect stranger

How could she possibly hate, loathe, someone she didn’t even know? How could she want him dead? How could she point a gun at him and then not shoot? Why couldn’t she have finished? Because Ed had stopped her. He and Al, they had called to her. Begged her not to do it.

She felt a sudden feeling of betrayal. Ed and Al had known, her two best friends had known, and they didn’t tell her. Didn’t she have a right to know? Didn’t she? How could she call someone who would keep something like that to themselves her best friends?

Because they were protecting me. His words were something about not wanting to see her cry anymore. It was sweet, and it numbed the pain a little, but her heart was still heavy with remorse. It was like a thin dose of morphine; enough to take the very edge off the throbbing hurt, but not enough to completely console her.

And how in the world could the words that I said

Send somebody so over the edge

How couldn’t she have done it? She could practically feel it in her hand. One little move of her finger, and the man called Scar would’ve gotten what he more than deserved. She wished she knew more about him. She wanted to take away the closest thing to his heart, let him feel the sting of it, let him know the pain, show him what she’d been through. The question was still ringing in his ears. He didn’t even know them. How could he have done that to them? To her? She was just a little girl. Why had he done that to her? Did even stop to think that there might be a tiny child waiting for them to return?

Now they couldn’t, and they never would. No matter how long she waited, they’d never smile at her again. Her mother would never brush her hair, her father would never even scold her. It was his fault! All his fault! That heartless monster!

That they’d write me a letter

Sayin’ that I better

Shut up and sing or my life

Will be over

The train screeched to another halt, but it wasn’t her stop again, so she sat in cold silence. She’d never known another that had lost something as most precious as she had other than Ed and Al. But they never cried. They never showed any emotion. They were fearless, regretless, as far as she was concerned. How come she couldn’t be like that? Why couldn’t she forget?

The sharp pain in her heart was heavy, and it weighed down her very soul. Was this what it felt like to want to die? One little move of her finger. Bang! And it would’ve been over. What was this hollow feeling in her stomach? She heard Ed’s voice again, “These are hands that let people live.” It had made her feel better, if only for a moment, but it wasn’t true.

I’m not ready to make nice

I’m not ready to back down

I’m still mad as hell and I don’t have time

To go ‘round and ‘round and ‘round

It’s too late to make a right

Probably wouldn’t if I could
I’m still mad as hell, can’t bring myself

To do what it is you think I should

She smiled bitterly. Ed and Al had better make him pay. Winry had never actually wanted to cause pain before. She’d never wanted to watch someone die, but at that moment abhorrence consumed her, and she felt unable to think about anything else. The idea of his pity was just repulsing; that monster had murdered helpless doctors. Doctors who did nothing but heal, nothing but help him. Just because he could.

That’s how she saw it.

“Pain fades eventually,” her mother had once said when she’d fallen down while running with Ed and Al. But what about emotional pain? When will it end? That reminded her of him, the man who had asked her when the suffering would end, just before she put the gun down.

I’m weak. I’m a coward. She couldn’t even finish off the ogre that had taken her parents’ lives. The one that had, indirectly, almost ended her own.

I’m not ready to make nice

I’m not ready to back down

I’m still mad as hell and I don’t have time

To go ‘round and ‘round and ‘round

It’s too late to make a right

Probably wouldn’t if I could

I’m still mad as hell, can’t bring myself

To do what it is you think I should

No one had seemed to notice, but after they had died, she’d changed. She was angrier. She cried at night. Her inner thoughts were of revenge. Revenge. She’d finally had a chance, a chance that would probably not come again, and she’d failed. She was a failure.

A mistake. She couldn’t even kill him for what he’d done. Ed had stopped her. Ed. Ed would’ve been able to do it. He could’ve done it without a second thought. Right? At least in her eyes, that’s how she believed, even if it wasn’t necessarily true.

Pain numbed her body and she couldn’t think about anything else. Nothing else but the Ishvalan with the scar on his face. Those bright, horrifying, emotionless eyes. Was that how they looked when he’d killed them? Was that how he’d looked when he killed them? Emotionless, dark, twisted?

What it is you think I should

The train had stopped, and she stood up. She was to get off here. Sighing deeply, she forced a smile to her face. Better to look friendly than have strangers staring at her. She still felt that unexplainable hollow feeling throughout her whole body. Still felt the loathing in her heart. She kept the tears from her eyes, a smile planted on her face, and got off the train.

Forgive? Sounds good

Forget? I’m not sure I could

They say “Time heals everything”

But I’m still waiting...

I do not, in any way, shape, or form own any rights whatsoever to the song Not Ready To Make Nice, by the Dixie Chicks, or Fullmetal Alchemist. This fanfic was inspired because I’ve taken to reading the manga online, and I was listening to this song during the part where I was reading “Girls of the Battlefield” or whatevvz and it was about the part where Winry had the gun. =] This idea has been eating at the back of my mind aaaaall day so I just had to type it up. The lyrics are mind, so sorry if a word or two is wrong. If you read this, please REVIEW. It makes me mad when people don’t, =] Thanks!