[roy/riza; pg] Morals Title: Morals Author:emilie_burns Rating: PG Word count: 900 Warnings: Implied sexual situations. Pairings: Implied Roy Mustang/Riza Hawkeye Summary:Heroes never lie; they are never concealed behind a cloud of moral ambiguity. They follow orders, and remain true to their principles and honor no matter how the dark the night. That is what I believed, when I was young. Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and everything therein belongs to Hiromu Arakawa/Square Enix. Original LJ Post Date: June 18, 2005 @ FanfictionLJ
Morals
When we are young, the world falls behind distinct lines of what is good, and what is evil. One can always recognize who the bad ones are by their old, greasy looks, hooked noses, sinister laughs, and the diabolical way they engage in vile misdeeds. The heroes, by contrast, are always young, beautiful, noble, stalwart, and true.
The lines are clearly drawn between the worlds of black and white, and we cringe at the deeds of evil. Their lies and treachery and the destruction they bring offer fodder for our childish nightmares. The heroes make it all go away, and everyone lives happily ever after. Heroes never lie, and they never soil their hands with moral ambiguity. Everything they do is just and right, and although we cringe when the villains kill, we never notice when the hero vanquishes the villain, except to cheer.
That is what I thought defined morality when I was young, from the fairy tales and legends. Heroes and villains, breeds apart and distinctly recognizable through their contrasts of actions. My father cautioned me once that the world is not truly black and white, but just differing shades of gray, and I, in my youthful wisdom, vowed that for me, that line would not become obscured.
How simple the world is when we are young.
As I aged, and stubbornly clung to the ideals of black and white, I learned of another part of morality. Good girls didn't engage in questionable pastimes. At least, not the ones with idealistic morals. After all, purity and innocence were so often among the virtues of the heroes, weren't they?
By the time I was of graduation age, and entered the academy for officer training, I had my world clearly defined. Weak or questionable morals were not part of my reality. Lies and deception were the deeds of villains. The heroes always held fast to their principles and still saved the day.
Then came the war.
The blood washed over those careful, rigid lines, causing my own constructed world to bleed, the colors mixing and mingling into hazy grays. I fought to keep the colors as defined as possible, to keep the obscurity to a minimum. I stopped looking at their faces through my sniper's scope, stopped taking note of their ages. I am loathe to admit it, but I think I also ceased to take note of whether or not they carried a visible weapon.
The reason of following orders was the tool I used to keep the colors of black and white separate. I was serving Amestris, protecting my country. By the time I was shipped back home, the targets were nothing more than mere paper or clay, targets at the range where I would practice my marksmanship. It was the only way I could keep from going mad.
Heroes never lie; they are never concealed behind a cloud of moral ambiguity. They follow orders, and remain true to their principles and honor no matter how the dark the night.
That is what I believed, when I was young.
How many orders have I twisted in the name of following my beliefs? How many lies have fallen with so little effort from my lips? And here I am, tangled in a web of subterfuge and deceit, more tangible and real to my mind than the sheets caught up around my limbs. I don't even remember when the colors finally bled together completely, the absolute shades of black and white disappearing. Somewhere along the way, in my choosing to follow a hero, I've found myself here. The arts of lies and deception are tools of survival. The man, that hero, sleeping beside me, sharing my bed, wears so many faces that not even I am entirely certain I've seen his true face, even while he sleeps.
Just his being here breaks orders, for fraternization between officers and their subordinates is strictly verboten. But together, we've broken so many of the rules, what would one more matter? Especially if it's one that keeps us sane?
Just as I once believed that the world was black and white, that heroes were always on a notch of morality above the rest, I believed that the villains came from somewhere else. I never thought it possible that villains might wear the same clothes as I, the same uniform.
I never believed that they might be the ones giving us the orders we carefully attempt to juggle while walking on a tightrope of our goals. Until now.
Morality is apparently what one makes of it, what holds true in the world in which they live. In fairy tales, heroes can vanquish the villains without any compromise, regardless of the circumstances. Fairy tales aren't the real world. If there is a way to defeat an enemy who wears the same uniform, who rules the very state in which I live, without hiding behind this fog of moral ambiguity, tangled in this web, then none of us are strong enough to find it.
If anyone is, they're not coming forward. So the point becomes moot, and it still remains up to us.
All I can do is roll over and cling to him in the dark, just like all of us involved cling to our tattered beliefs and principles. All any of us can do is hope we reach the end of this before we've stared into the darkness far too long.
Before, perhaps, we become like them.
"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you." - Freidrich Neitzsche, Beyond Good and Evil