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The past three days have seen many people entering and exiting Roy Mustang’s hospital room. Government officials, doctors less so, and, on the rarest of occasions, friends and well-wishers. None of them have quite so distinctive an entrance as Edward Elric.
Roy is of course blind to the theatrics with which the elder Elric must enter, but the sound the door makes hitting the wall is enough to make his overly sensitive ears hurt.
“Fullmetal, how’s the arm,” he asks before the boy can utter a word.
“How’d you know it was me,” the boy answers, not sheepish in the slightest.
“You’ve never been too subtle,” Roy quips.
“Whatever. Hey Hawkeye,” the kid greets stiffly.
“Hello Ed.” There’s the sound of Riza, and then the shf of a book closing. Roy supposes they’re done with that particular research session then.
“Anyways, Colonel. I uh, got a favor to ask.”
Roy raises an eyebrow. He pushes himself up from his half-lying position, his back braced against the headboard of the bed. “What is it?”
“I uh. Someone’s supposed to sit with Al when he eats. I need you to do that.”
Roy furrows his brows with an exasperated sigh. “Elric, I’m a bit busy here. I’ve got a lot to memorize if I want to have any effect on this country, I don’t really have time for babysitting.”
There’s a tick of silence and then Riza speaking - “I can sit with him Edward.” Her tone is gentle, and it makes Roy feel as though he’s being admonished.
Edward sucks in a breath through his teeth. Roy can almost picture his clenched fists.
“It has to be the colonel. I couldn’t tell you why but Al asked for him specifically.”
Roy’s lips part in a split second of surprise. It quickly morphs into skepticism. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I just said I don’t know!” Edward’s voice is rising in volume now.
Roy almost jumps when a calloused fingertip touches the back of his hand. He would have been more alarmed if he didn’t recognize the feel of those fingers.
“Al deserves to get what he wants, don’t you think,” Riza reasons.
Roy thinks back to that final battle. He had witnessed nothing but for the horrified gasp Riza had emitted at the time. The whole battlefield had gone silent, and Roy had been utterly confused and concerned. Riza hadn’t even had the words to explain Al’s sacrifice until later, when they’d all gathered around the soulless suit of armor. Roy had reached out to touch the carcass. It had been hot from the sun.
Whatever Roy had felt then - he doesn’t know if it was guilt, or responsibility. Most likely it was just grief.
He should probably talk to Al.
“Okay.” Roy nods. He reaches for the wooden stick leaning against his bed and the wall. He’d been practicing walking with it, navigating the room. But he hadn’t gone further than that, these four corners. Once he has the stick in his scarred hand, he holds his other arm out in the direction of the door. “I’ll need you to lead me there. I haven’t been to Al’s room.”
All he feels is his left arm, heavy in the air. And then five fingers, gripping his bicep awkwardly.
“I’m not diseased,” Roy mutters. He lets himself be led by the arm, absently sweeping the stick in front of him to feel for any obstacles.
“Hah! Could’ve fooled me. Would think you’re on death’s door th’ way you look.” The door clicks open and then shut behind them.
“Oh be quiet.”
Roy puts one foot in front of the other, trying desperately to appear sure of himself. He counts his steps as he walks, keeping his gait even so he can backtrack later.
Ed groans.
Roy raises an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“You’re putting me in a tough spot. I wanna lead you into a wall so badly right now.”
Roy barks out a laugh. “You haven’t changed since you were twelve.”
Ed sputters indignantly, stuttering over his words.
“No no,” Roy assures. He pulls his cane up under his armpit, using his freed hand to place on top of the hand Ed leads him with. “That’s a good thing. You’ve matured. But you haven’t lost…yourself.” Roy sighs. “It’s a good thing,” he repeats.
Ed’s other hand comes up to pat Roy’s.
Roy swallows. Ed’s an adult now. Eighteen. But he’d grown up so quickly anyways. Roy wishes he’d had more time with that kid. He wishes he’d known the boy before life stole his mother from him, before greed stole his brother and limbs away as well.
“We’re coming up on stairs,” Edward mumbles. He leads Roy’s right hand to a handrail. It’s awkward, keeping his cane pinched between his arm and his body while leading himself up the stairs, but Roy makes it work. They head up.
Al’s room is the first one away from the staircase.
“They wanted him accessible, in case…um.” Edward explains. “So even though he’s on the ICU floor, he’s close to the stairs.” Edward releases his arm. “You’re facing the door. ‘Bout a foot away. I’d go in with you, but.”
“You have other things to get done. That’s why you’ve asked me to babysit.”
“I mean not really - and he’s seventeen, it’s not babysitting! Just go in!”
Roy huffs a laugh, groping for the doorknob. It clicks when he opens it.
The room is quieter than Roy’s own.
He waits in the doorway.
“Colonel.”
Alphonse’s voice is strangely clear and strangely quiet. But now that he’s spoken, Roy knows what direction the bed is in, so he starts moving.
“Hello. How are you?”
“Oh just great,” Alphonse says sarcastically. “This is much more comfortable than when I couldn’t feel anything at all.”
Roy smiles at the heat in Al’s voice. At least he’s well enough to feel bitter.
Roy’s stick smacks against something, so he reaches a hand out. He has to lower it a bit to find the soft springiness of the bed, but when he does he asks, “may I sit?”
“Yeah.”
Roy sits down, laying the cane across his lap. He feels a lot like an old man. “What’s for lunch,” he asks.
Al huffs. There’s a bit of shuffling and then a pop like a lid coming off. “A jar of strawberry jam.”
Roy raises an eyebrow.
“I got sick of applesauce but I can’t…” clink clink, like a spoon against glass. “I can’t really eat anything more solid. So.”
Roy hums. There’s more clinking, but nothing resembling the sound of swallowing. “Are you really that quiet of an eater?”
Al hums. And then there’s the sound of metal hitting teeth, and then a swallow.
Roy feels the need to fill the silence as Alphonse continues eating, so he starts to talk. “Hawkeye and I are doing well. Her wound is almost healed, she’s really just keeping me company at this point. The hospital’s busier than it’s ever been. I don’t think anyone ever expected Central to become a battleground, they weren’t prepared.”
“Mhm,” Al hums, prompting him to go on. But Roy doesn’t really have anything else to say.
“Where’s Edward off to?”
“I don’t know.”
Suddenly, Roy begins to feel a bit queasy. “Is your father around?”
A swallow - prolonged, like he’s struggling to get it down - and then “no. He went back to Resembool. He didn’t look too good. I think he’s-” a beat - “nevermind.”
Roy pauses. “Right,” he says, practically a whisper.
The room dissolves into silence. It must be around noon. Roy can feel the heat from the window on the left side of his face. He turns his face into it, closing his eyes.
“Hey Colonel?” Alphonse’s voice is hesitant, soft.
Roy doesn’t turn his head, but he answers with a questioning hum.
“What do you picture when you think of me?”
Roy instinctively turns to look at the boy, though he can’t look at anything anymore. But, facing the boy, he feels there’s probably a right answer.
Instinctively, he wants to say the armor. But that isn’t quite right. He can’t picture a body really, but - “well, I imagine you look a bit like Ed. Same colors, probably. I remember, when I first met you both, those pictures on the walls…so maybe your hair is shorter?” Roy’s head tilts up to the ceiling. He’s really just thinking out loud now. “Your face is kinder, I’m sure of that. Maybe rounder.”
Alphonse is quiet.
“Did I get any of it right?”
“Some. The colors are right. My eyes are just a little bit greener though, if you really look hard. And…I haven’t cut my hair yet, but I will. I don’t like it long, it gets in the way. But.”
Roy tilts his head. “Mhm?”
“My face is. It’s. My body. They’re - sharp. Emaciated. My body hasn’t actually really eaten in seven years. I almost didn’t remember how at first.”
All at once, Roy understands. “That’s why someone has to be here?”
“Mm. The first time I tried - it was just applesauce and I still choked on the first bite! The second bite felt too weird going down my throat.” Al laughs bitterly. “It felt weirder coming back up!”
Roy swallows. The queasiness in his stomach increases to churning levels.
Alphonse stutters, rerouting the conversation. “Um - but I’m getting better. I haven’t thrown up yet today. They’ve got IV’s in me anyway, they’re just trying to get me used to normal eating too.”
Roy nods slowly. “You chose me to eat with you. You sent your brother away…because I can’t see how you look. Is that right?”
“...I’m sorry.”
Roy grins. “No. It’s smart.”
Roy twists. He places his arm gingerly on a blanket-covered leg, a severe look on his face. “Alphonse. Everything that happened that day…seeing Riza close to death, losing my vision, that homunculus absorbing every soul in Amestris…somehow none of that made me feel the same as I felt after what you’d done. Seven years, searching for a way to return to really living. And you gave it up.” Roy sighs heavily. “It was like you’d taken a bit of my soul with you. I think it felt the same for everyone who’d ever known you. I don’t know what that means. But if it takes coming to sit with you three times a day while you eat, I’ll do it. For you to get better.”
Roy can’t see Al’s reaction. He worries he’s gone too deep. But then there’s a soft sniffle, and the bed shifts a bit. Roy’s hand is grasped in a thinner, bonier one. He extends his arm so Al can lay back down and still keep a hold of his hand.
“Thank you,” Al whispers.
Roy nods.
Alphonse painstakingly finishes his strawberry jam.
When Roy exits the room, a shaking hand immediately grabs his arm. “Is he alright?”
Roy smiles and nods. The hand releases his arm.
“Okay. Good. I can take you back now-”
Roy raises a hand. “I’m alright. Now that I’ve been here once, I think I can backtrack.”
Edward laughs, a bit meanly. “Whatever you say. If you get lost it’s not on me!”
The doorknob clicks as Ed turns it, but Roy stops him before he can enter.
“Edward?” He pauses a moment to be sure the boy is listening. “Your brother is just fine. He’ll be okay.”
Edward’s voice breaks when he speaks. “I know. But - thank you. It’s…good to hear someone else say it.”
Roy nods.
He may not be able to see, but he can envision a good future for those boys.