Rainjoyswriting - Hospital.pdf - FMA Fanfiction - Mojaunicorn

Hospital

"You do this specifically to irritate me," Roy said crisply, holding Ed's right hand. Holding

Ed's right hand because it meant that it didn't matter how hard he squeezed, he could

never hurt him. "You do this specifically to annoy me and I know you do. All of this just

to point out all the times I'm not there and all the things I don't notice. Well I'm noticing

now, thank you, Edward. I'm here now."

Hawkeye and Breda were overseeing the babysitting of Amestris. Havoc and Alisa were

looking after Maes. And that left Roy with the most difficult babysitting job of them all -

and shouldn't it have been easier, now he couldn't shout or throw things (mostly

tantrums) or argue back or get angry . . . ?

The machine clicked and breathed, clicked and breathed.

"It is your fault. I hope you can hear this. If you had just said . This is entirely your - this is

entirely my fault. You never say, you never do. I should notice. I should notice because

you seem incapable of telling the difference between a sneeze and a near-death

experience. I should . . . I should have . . ." He folded his fingers around Ed's, put a hand

over his eyes. "I need to talk to you. Please wake up. Please just wake up so we can talk

about this. Edward, I never thought I could miss the sound of you yelling at me . . ."

Click, breathe. Click, breathe.

"We must have reached our lifetime's quota of hospitals by now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First of all the cough, and Ed snapping that Roy was such an old woman , he had a cold , so

what? He'd sleep facing the outside of the bed if it stopped him being such a goddamn

paranoid freak.

That staccato cough dragged Roy out of sleep almost hourly as the nights went on, like

machine gun fire, like too many bad memories.

The cough turned into what was undeniably flu and left Ed, shivering in a scarf indoors,

telling Roy that yes he'd called in sick at work, he'd 'take it easy' or what the fuck ever, he

just had to walk the kid to school was all. Roy did remember fresh air, they had it outside

his office, it was good for you. Old woman.

And it evolved, it was a clever little cough, it turned into something metallic and round-

cornered, rattling around in Ed's lungs, bashing at the base of his throat and deeper as

his breaths turned wheezing. But he was fine. He insisted he was fine. He insisted all

along that Roy was a bothersome old woman and wouldn't he know if he wasn't fine?

And that little cough, via a detour at the foot of the stairs, on the black and white hallway

tiles and stopping Roy's heart, brought Ed here - to white sheets and a machine click-

breathing, click-breathing, and Roy holding his hand, and an ocean floor's worth of

silence in the white, white room with the machine click-breathing the waves over their

heads . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking up the path to the front door, he could hear Maes crying. And the memory was

instantaneous: shattered nights, a zombie for a lover and the smell of baby powder all

came back in half a second before - he broke into a run.

Hiccupping, terrified, frustrated and desperate, Maes cried. And Ed would never let him

cry.

The door banged open and Maes looked up at him with a tear-run face, telephone in his

lap, and sobbed, "I can't make it work, I don't know how to make it work-"

Ed lay face-down beside him on the tiles, one foot still caught back on the stairs.

And for one second Roy had - no words. No thoughts. No heartbeat. He had nothing.

He snapped back to life again as fast as the cry he wouldn't let out of his throat. He

nearly fell to his knees, and his instinct was to yank Ed up into his arms but basic

military medical training jerked him to a stop. He touched his neck: warm, living, pulsing.

The gasp almost choked him. "Did he fall?" he said, and Maes wiped at his face with his

palms and sobbed more. "Maes, how far did he fall?" He caught Maes' wrists and Maes

blinked up at him with wet, reddened eyes. "Maes, please, I need you to be brave for me.

Please, please be brave, your father needs it too." His heart was thrumming in his throat.

"Did you see him fall? How far did he fall?"

"Three stairs," Maes said thickly, and Roy whispered, "Good boy."

Three stairs. He could risk that, to get Ed into a more comfortable position he could risk -

what the hell was he doing? He wasn't thinking right, the thoughts came three thousand

a second and he couldn't put them into any sensible order. He took the telephone from

Maes' lap, gently took the mouthpiece from Maes' hand, and dialled. It wasn't a number

Ed would have recognised.

"Ambulance," he said, when it picked up on the first ring. "Now."

And he hung up, caught sight of Maes' frightened eyes again and touched the back of his

head and said firmly, feeling his voice strain under the need to break, "Everything is

alright."

He felt down Ed's back, his arms, and finding no obvious breaks he braced the weight of

him and turned. Dead weight, heavy on Roy's leg and lap. He'd fallen on his left arm, his

wrist was swollen and his temple was bruised, but it could have been worse. If they were

lucky - Roy could weep for wanting it - small mercies might just see them through this.

Ed looked like he was somewhere deeper than asleep, looked - wrong, not relaxed and

not tense, just wrong. Roy checked his pulse again, felt his own rip through him four

thousand miles an hour and through the beat he heard -

Ed's breath, too shallow, all wrong. He wasn't breathing properly. He wasn't breathing

properly.

Roy pulled air in, clamped Ed's nose, and as they'd done a thousand times before he

pressed his mouth over Ed's. But not quite a kiss, it wasn't about love or affection or lust

or simply stopping an argument - it was about life, Roy forcing the air down into Ed's

slovenly lungs, forcing his chest to inflate.

In sickness and in health-

"Everything is going to be alright." he told Maes, and took a breath, and pressed it into

Ed's lungs.

With this body I thee worship-

His head was spinning. "There's a bag underneath our bed," he said to Maes. "Can you

bring it? Your father will need it."

To love, honour and obey-

To keep him alive, as Maes scrambled upstairs and Roy's head whirled and he took a

breath and gave it to Ed, took a breath and gave it to Ed, he thought that he might have

promised his breath once when it meant a metaphor, a romantic ideal, see what I would

give for you . And here he was on his knees on the hallway tiles, giving it as promised.

Blood, he'd promised. Ed could have it. His heart. Though if it was lungs Ed needed he

was welcome to those too-

He wanted to say, You keep breathing (breathe). He wanted to say, Damn you damn you

damn you (breathe). He wanted somehow for Ed to understand the sheer, inescapable

truth that Roy could not live every day of his life without Ed at his side (breathe). He

wanted -

Blue lights were flashing from the bottom of the garden. He took a breath, held Ed's nose,

mouth to mouth and gave it to Ed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Daddy,"

He floundered up through the dark and sat, in bed, blinking in panic. "What? What?"

"Daddy," Maes whimpered again from the doorway.

"What- Maes." There was no Ed in the bed, and Roy couldn't have been asleep for

quarter of an hour yet. It was one in the morning. The hospital told him to go home and

because he had a son he had to take care of, he did. Because his son needed it now, he

tried to calm his own voice. "What's wrong?"

Maes stood frozen in the doorway, stuffed rabbit hanging from his hands, mouth moving

silent for a few seconds before he whispered, "I had an accident."

"Are you alright?" God if he's hurt Ed will kill him-

"I had an accident," Maes said, blinking hard at the tears.

". . . oh." Roy stared at him. There was no Ed in the bed, and this was something Ed dealt

with, this was very much Ed's area. Only . . . Ed was pumped full of antibiotics and having

his lungs inflated by a machine at the other side of the city. Roy stared at Maes and Maes

blinked miserably at Roy and Roy had to know what to do.

"I'm sorry," Maes whispered.

"It's alright." Roy pulled himself out of bed, tied his dressing gown on, turned the light on.

"It's alright. Don't worry, it's alright."

Clinging wet pyjamas and tear-wet face; Ed dealt with things like this. Roy tried to think

rationally through the fog of sleep. He'd need new pyjamas, they were in his bedroom.

Too late to bath him, but he'd need cleaning . . .

Wash cloth, towel, baby powder. "Sorry," Maes whispered, and blinked out more tears.

"Don't be sorry," Roy said, and wiped his cheeks off with some toilet paper, held it to his

nose. "Blow."

His bed was wet. Roy stared at it, sleepily befuddled and Ed knew how to . . . he stripped

the sheets, tossed them all in the bath. He'd have someone come to do the cleaning

and . . . and just take care of things tomorrow, he could arrange it in the morning. "Come

on," he said gently, taking Maes' hand. "Sleep in our bed tonight."

'Our' bed, but there was no Ed. Maes lay in the Ed-shaped hollow in the mattress, in the

dark, while Roy blinked with exhaustion, head spinning with it -

"Daddy?"

He reached out, laid a palm on Maes' shoulder in the dark. "I'm here."

"Can I snuggle?"

Roy just drew him in and Maes burrowed to his chest, whispered, "When's Daddy

coming home?"

"As soon as he's better," Roy promised quietly, and ran a hand down Maes' hair, and

closed his eyes.

Maes went to sleep eventually, breathing slow and steady against him. Roy remembered

him so tiny he could have held him in one hand. ("Support his head -")

Two o' clock. (He remembered, "Do I promise to love, honour and . . . what?")

Three o' clock. (He remembered, "Baby baby baby no-")

Four o' clock. (He remembered, "Hello, baby.")

And dawn, grey and weak and faltering, and no sun-washed Ed at his side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mechanical apparatus around Ed had changed when Roy returned that morning; Ed

was breathing, on his own (thank you thank you thank you) with an oxygen mask over

the lower half of his face. Roy stroked his fingers through Ed's ratty hair - sunken eyed

and in need of a hell of a shower and Roy knew that this had to be true love because he

was still beautiful to Roy - and sat beside him, and took his cold, hard hand, and waited.

There was a crinkle, a knock at the door. He raised his head and kept his face blank and

said, "Good morning, Miss Luis. Where's Maes?"

Alisa hugged the bouquet to herself and gave him a wary, acidic look. He knew that Alisa

had a certain affection for Ed, and had somehow become one of Maes' primary

babysitters and cared a great deal for him, but he also knew that she loathed Roy. He

accepted her right to loathe him, but it did put a slight strain on their relationship.

"He's at school, dummy." she said briskly, striding into the room, setting the flowers

down on the bedside table. "I'm going to pick him up this afternoon. How is he?"

"Better. He hasn't woken up yet." The flowers smelled of spring brought indoors. "You'd

better hope he doesn't wake up until those wilt."

"Who doesn't like flowers?" she said dismissively, and he stood to offer her the chair.

"Don't be ridiculous. Is he-?"

Her eyes tracked Ed's face, the mask, his naked chest, the old scars and the wires

attached.

"He's improving. I know it looks bad, believe me, yesterday was worse." His face didn't

change but just the thought of yesterday made his throat tighten.

"It really stinks," she said softly. "He doesn't deserve this."

Roy said nothing. Ed had sinned often enough in his life but he had paid and paid and

paid and paid and no, he didn't deserve this. If anyone in the world had worked their

way to a clean slate by now it was Ed.

Rainjoyswriting - Hospital.pdf

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