The Woman He Loved
Chapter 1: Glacier
By Claudius
I don't own the rights to any characters of Fullmetal Alchemist. Special mention to Bridgetkiido for the idea of a certain character's last name.
The East Military Hospital cared for soldiers both professional and student. It also proved a learning ground for nurses. During education lasting two years, young female students would take internships to this place. Here, they saw and participated in the physical life of the nursing job. Some young women quit after experiencing the demands of medical care. Others endured it and graduated, even becoming hospital employees.
One morning at the hospital began with a light snowfall. Young interns ready for the day shift entered the front door in a hurry. They headed to the lounge. A small room with tables, chairs, a sink, and a sofa, the lounge was a place for doctors and nurses, professional and intern, to gossip, eat, or rest. The arrivals shook the snow off their capes and hats, hanging them up. Then came the last intern. This young woman was very noticeable to her fellow colleagues. She symbolized the weather, calm and cold. Her entry was worth a colleague's joke. "It's getting so cold that a Glacier's forming."
The young woman eyed her colleagues with her green pupils. Her reply was a friendly smirk, contradicting the meaning of her nickname. The interns soon got to work, referring to each other by nickname. Cadets at East Military Academy labeled themselves, so the same habit was here as well. Professionals like Chief Nurse Elena Schmidt was named 'Ogre.' As for interns, Riza Evan had 'Rizzie' and Solaris Argeinden was 'Chest.'
Gracia Stern got 'Glacier.' Her nickname was based on her performance and appearance. This young intern had strength, treating every situation with calm fortitude. While some colleagues shirked from the messy injuries, Gracia kept patience treating every stab wound, hemorrhage, or decapitation. This resistance made her a reliable assistant for any professional. Her ability was not based on some morbid interest to gore. In fact, Gracia was really disgusted with such sights. She was just better able to keep her distaste hidden. Unfortunately, this behavior caused many to see her as emotionally cold, as some heartless woman. Not so to the people that really knew her. To them, Gracia Stern was a bright person with a very kind heart. Their regard to that miscast nickname was either laughter or anger.
Also factoring in her chilly title was her appearance. Gracia was not the belle of the hospital. Her smooth features were truthfully not plain, but she didn't portray them well either. Gracia wore little makeup, and kept her long auburn hair severely pulled up to the top of her head. To strangers, she looked like some middle-aged frump. Again, assumptions were mistakes: Gracia was not old, almost twenty years of age. And she certainly was not frigid. The celibate life was missing from her interests (even if she was still a virgin). She had dreams of marriage like any other girl of her peer. But getting men's attention during her burgeoning teen years was a failure. It discouraged her to try at the present. Gracia put this inability in stride, at least for now. The lack of a personal life encouraged her strengths in her studies and work, as well as her hobbies. So let her friends enjoy their men! Her work was the real importance.
This work continued throughout the day. That calm day changed with nightfall, when the snow turned to a mixture of ice and rain. By that time, Gracia's shift was about to end at nine o'clock. Time for some sleep!
No way, reacted the presence of Nurse Schmidt. "Ogre' commanded Gracia to see some cadet in the waiting room. As far as her superior was concerned, every remaining minute before nine had to be used. Gracia begrudgingly accepted the order. She contacted the lone man. "Yes, sir?"
Since the young man appeared to be searching for someone, his response had to be inevitable. "Tell me, where is Cadet Hughes?" His question was made in near-shouts, despite his overall calm demeanor.
Gracia turned to the desk and its list of patients. She found the name Maes Hughes. "Yes, he just came in." According to the paper, the man had a heavy fever.
With cordial grace, Gracia led the man to the patient's ward. Along the way she learned the man's name was Roy Mustang. He and the patient were from the Academy. He was also a Cadet Lieutenant, a rank he made especially clear with proud correction. Other words from him were even less polite; the Cadet…the Cadet Lieutenant kept making curses about his ill friend. His animosity grew louder as they came closer to the room. Gracia took this behavior as natural. Roy Mustang was a man.
Opening the door saw Cadet Lieutenant Mustang flying through it. On his bed, the Hughes patient slept very still. With him was an older nurse, Miss Arias, applying cold cloths to his forehead. The patient's face was pale and damp, and not just from the wet cloth. If not for the small labored breaths from his quivering mouth, one could easily believe him dead.
Mustang grimaced over his friend's condition. "That damn idiot. What was he thinking, taking guard duty with a fever?" He sulked in his frustration. But Gracia noted a degree of guilt in the man's anger. She predicted no tear-stained breakdown, though. Men like Roy Mustang were not the type to weep. Acting cold or angry toward others was a man's weird show of compassion. It was up to women like her to show emotions softly.
Gracia got a chair. The Cadet Lieutenant's uneasy position gave no evidence that he planned to leave his friend anytime soon.
"Miss Arias?" Gracia nicely asked the Nurse. "Can this man stay with his friend?"
The nurse nodded her approval. Gracia gave Mustang a blanket. It was past nine, but the desire to sleep lost some of its persuasive power. But a professional nurse was already treating the Hughes patient. She wasn't needed here.
On a cot, Gracia slept for the night. The hospital was equipped with a small room for nurses to sleep between shifts. The bad weather and her father's absence at home convinced Gracia to stay here for the night. She awoke, got dressed, and returned to the work. She found her colleagues in a group, talking about the Hughes patient and his friend. 'Chest' boasted about undressing the Hughes patient. "What a package he had!" She swooned, exciting her friends. Not 'Glacier.'
"His friend's even better," 'Chest' continued with a naughty blink of the eyes. "Wish he was sick too."
Gracia felt angry by these thoughtless words. A young man almost died, and they were more concerned about seeing his anatomy! Now it must be said that Gracia was not above such observations. It was just that admiring hot man flesh had its place, and that was nowhere here in this hospital.
"So Glacier, what do you think?" said 'Rizzie.'
Gracia grabbed her clipboard. "I think you should stop yapping and get back to work."
Her colleagues' smiles fell into frowns. Gracia turned away without concern. 'Chest's' voice touched her ears. "Forget her. What do you expect from that frump?" Gracia almost paused at that label. It was a good thing she wasn't facing them with the glare she was making. She accepted the nickname, but it could also be a burden.
Gracia soon returned to the Hughes patient's room. Mustang was still at his friend's side, all his attention kept on him. There was no reaction to her presence. Not that she felt the same way to him. Suddenly, Gracia really took notice to the cadets for the first time. She was starting to share her colleagues' vulnerability for their male good looks. Despite his strained, unshaven face, Cadet Lieutenant Mustang had this soft, boyish face and pretty eyes. Gracia turned to the patient, checking his forehead. The fever had broken. Like his friend, the Hughes patient was interesting to see; under that beastly sick mask was a long handsome face, best featured by the sculptured nose and large jaw. But there was a hint of the beast in this prince. The brow and jaw had a form that could easily express cherubic joy or extreme anger. Rather darkly attractive…
Oh Gracia! The nurse's mind reprimanded herself of such an interest. Enough with this!
Suddenly, the patient came awake. That was an overstatement, for the sign was just his eyes rising slowly. It contrasted heavily with Mustang's own behavior. He rose to his feet, chair and blanket upset in the process. "Maes?" Roy spoke in a tenderness that took Gracia's attention for its unmanly kindness. "Are you alright?"
"I feel awful," the patient choked in whispers. "Guess that means I'm alive."
Mustang reverted to gender. "Idiot. Why didn't you get off your watch by reporting this?"
"Nice of you to care," Hughes replied.
Gracia smugly nodded at her cynical prediction. Forget kindness and thankfulness for a friend's recovery! These men tore each other apart with anger and names. A preference to call the kettle black reached its limit. Like it or not, this was how some men behaved; it was cold stoicism for the rest. She better get used to it if she wanted to avoid spinsterhood. A diversion was found with the darkness of the room. Gracia went to the curtained window and opened it. The sun had finally come out on this winter period. Its glowing brightness fell on the patient. "That's better," Gracia was pleased.
The patient responded to the shine, squinting his eyes. His pupils blinked, than expanded upon her presence. Gracia saw their color of olive green. But the eyes were different from the rest of his face. So very different, Gracia thought with confusion. Like a plant under the sun, Hughes grew with strength. Now his face became very aware and fresh. What happened to the pale corpse?
Despite the surprise, Gracia was pleased at this happy recovery of sorts. She took her leave. With one last look, the intern saw Hughes watching her.
Gracia returned to her other duties. Last night's weather had caused some casualties. There was a soldier who slipped on the ice and broke his leg. Gracia bandaged that patient with care, despite the man's cringes and complaints. Then there was an unconscious cadet who suffered frostbite. Gracia joined a nurse and a young doctor in treating him. Tearing the pants open revealed a leg under frostbite. Dr. Kurtz, an older physician, checked this injury. He was unemotional with the verdict. "One leg must be amputated."
Suddenly, Gracia noticed the area around her become very silent. The nurse and young doctor backed away. Gracia was alone at her spot, feeling the same shock. But she complied in aiding for the surgery.
In the 'butcher's shop', as the surgeon's room was called, Gracia washed up and stood next Surgeon Anthow. She administered the morphine to the patient, composed and still. Utensils were asked. Gracia gave them without a waver. She looked to the patient, named Ericks Bonn. His face was calm, safely asleep from the horror. She kept looking at him until the deed was done. Then she looked to the blood-splattered part where a limb once existed. The carnage had her attention, though not in any way she liked. Pangs of sympathy roared inside her heart. Her free hands trembled, feeling a magnetic pull to the patient's hand. She quickly rejected the temptation.
The grisly job was over. Gracia got Kurtz and Anthow's congratulations, but she barely heard anything. Her mind and hearing were suddenly removed from each other. She guessed she knew what they were saying. All thought remained on the patient. Gracia satisfied her superiors with a nod. The doctor left. Gracia soon followed. She walked through the halls very calmly. Soon she was in the restroom, where she washed her hands. The redundancy of this act was ignored. 'Rizzie' was also in the room. The two shared some small talk: Words were exchanged. Nurse Schmidt being an ogre…those cadets are super cute…how did the weather treat you…I've met this guy. 'Rizzie's' departure left the room only to Gracia. Her eyes twittered to the emptiness, her ears absorbing the silence. It was time. Distaste turned the woman's face, sinking it to despair. Sympathies held back were embraced, aching her to a hurtful degree. Than came the weeping. That poor man, her mind cried, finding expression through her face. That man was now going to be without a leg for life! His soldier days are over.
A few minutes of tears gave Gracia some leave for her composure to strengthen. Wiping her cheeks dry, the intern returned to the public with fortitude. As she worked, the sympathy for the patient remained at the back of her mind. Once her shift was done, Gracia opened all thought and heart to the patient she met. She would have to do something for him.
The oven had reached its climax in cooking. Two apple pie were received. Gracia studied her creations with glee. No burns or malformed shapes marked them. After the first tries of years before, such mistakes became avoidable. Cooking was something Gracia took a private pride in. Her mother taught her everything. How messy those hours were, she remembered vividly. Watching Mommy create something delicious from some icky substances was a talent almost magical. It was this magic that Eleanor 'Elly' Lang Stern left to her only child. It was a legacy she didn't prefer to have; not having it would mean her mother was still here. Gracia counted the days and years since she died these four years ago. The family never recovered. As it was, she had to keep this legacy for herself. Using her gift for a living might dwindle the special feelings it gave her. But Bonn's calamity saw this craft was needed, desperately.
A half hour later, Gracia fixed dinner. Johann Stern, her father, entered the room in perfect timing. He ate and drank, his mouth only for eating. In perfect timing he left, heading out. No words came from him, despite Gracia's attempt to get into a conversation. No touch of a kiss or embrace was given. None were expected, at least presently. Gracia took this ignorance better than earlier times. Her father was not a warm person. He was a man. But Gracia knew her father did love her, and one day he will show it. Years of no response failed to discourage that hope.
The next day, Gracia reached the hospital grounds in early time. But the lounge would be second priority this morning. She went to the cafeteria and gave most of the two pies to its staff. Through them, Gracia's pies would go to the patients with no credit from her. This led to a hopeful satisfaction. No problem feeling a little proud, she shamefully thought.
The first hour was spent organizing the medicine closet, organizing new medication and bandages to their proper categories. Then Gracia attended to the patients' care. Soon she would see Ericks Bonn's happiness. That was all the congratulations to be expected. Men, unless by profession, were not the type to speak gratitude.
Breathlessly awaiting the anticipation, Gracia opened the door. There was Bonn. He lay on his bed, depressed. On the table lay the tray and its piece of her pie. Completely untouched.
Gracia stilled at this sight. But she dodged the disappointment. Perhaps it was wrong to think he wanted to eat instantly? "And how are you, Mr. Bonn?" She spoke softly.
The patient just rolled to the other side of the bed, away from the plate's direction. Doubts started to rise in the nurse. She looked at the chart on the bed. Her eyes weren't exactly checking it. The suspense was killing her. "Aren't you going to eat?" she asked.
Ericks Bonn glared daggers at her.
Success now looked vacant, but Gracia wasn't to be defeated. She continued with a gentle tone. "If you don't have your food, how will you regain your strength?"
Then Bonn's harsh look changed a little. He went to the tray. He picked it up. Relief grew in Gracia, burgeoning on joy.
Ericks Bonn threw everything to the floor. The crash sounded into Gracia's ears, as a more internal crash broke inside her. She wondered how she could still be standing. There were no tears. Would be nice to do so. The only action was to blame herself for this stupid plan. She should have known better than to expect some sensitive respect from a man, especially a crippled one. A pie was no consolation for a lost leg. Stupid girl…
Gracia knelt and picked up the damaged pieces and put them in the trash. All that work, she rued to herself. Her mother was destroyed in this mess, all because of her stupid pride. She will keep her food talent a private thing. She would never do this for an unfamiliar man again. With a calm grace, Gracia saw to the fellow patients. She wasn't going to let anyone see her cry.
Seeing no conditions in a dire way, Gracia went into the hallway. She looked for a place to disappear.
"Hiya!" said a booming voice. "Frowning for something?"
Gracia flinched. Right now, any surprise felt like an assault. But she held herself together, turning to the stranger with a cold face. It was Mr. Hughes. He stood with an expression of joy. Gracia repeated his name as casually as possible.
The Hughes patient was wearing glasses, its lenses sometimes covering those strange eyes. He waved his hand, his energetic behavior covering the weakness of his steps. The cane he leaned upon was evidence of that frailty. But for one moment, the infirmity vanished. For as soon as Gracia spoke his name, Hughes broke into surprise. His eyes widened, his mouth opening. The gape smoothly closed into a fulfilled smile. "Call me Maes," his improved voice was tender.
Gracia ignored the pleasantries. "You should be in bed!" Her voice could chill a lizard.
"I'm okay." Hughes coughed. "Staying cooped up can make a guy go batty. Case in point that other guy." He pointed to the room and Bonn.
Gracia was cool to the reminder of her mistake. "He lost his leg, what do you expect him to feel like?"
Hughes didn't seem to care. "He can get one of those automail legs. They work as good as real ones. It's not the end of the world."
A cold sensation stabbed into Gracia. The fact that Hughes had insulted Bonn was not the real issue in her outburst. "Perhaps, but it will be the end for you!" She grabbed the man's arm forcefully. "Get back in bed now!"
A protest was in the beginning of Hughes' response, but he fell silent. He surrendered to Gracia's demands. "Okay, okay. You win." He made attempts not to snicker in this forced obedience. Gracia pulled Hughes back to his room. She broke contact as soon as it looked like he was going to the bed. But the man rebelled again, turning around. He got Gracia pointing her finger at his bed with a face of resolve. No buts, said her tight face. Hughes sighed and turned to the bed. Once he was settled, Gracia turned to the door.
"Can you do me a favor?" said Hughes.
"No!" Gracia was swift with the word.
But Hughes was undeterred. "Can you see about getting me another piece of that pie?"
Suddenly, fire burst into Gracia's cold mood. It dissolved the cruel emotions. "The pie?" She spoke, eyes at the door.
"Yep," Hughes' sounded admired. "You know who made it?"
Still at the door, Gracia hid her astonishment of this interest. But disappointment still existed. She was back on guard. Facing the patient, her head shook in denial. "I'll see who made it."
Hughes' face stilled a bit, as if in study. "You should try it. If you get me a piece, I'll save some of it for you."
"No thanks," Gracia refused the chance for credit. She left the room. Later, she got the remaining piece intended for a friend. This helping was brought to Hughes' room. "Mr. Hughes?"
"You're looking at him." Maes lay in bed, lacking his spectacles but not a smile. "Unless my nose is deceiving me, it smells like you fulfilled the part of our deal." He grinned boyishly.
Gracia planted the food on the table. "You have a keen smell."
"When you're near-sighted, you pay attention to other senses." Hughes sat up with excitement. Gracia liked his expressions; its growing comfort, the wiggling of his lips to taste that pie. This was the gratitude she wanted. She smiled for a moment, frowning as Hughes put on his glasses. "I've also come for your check-up."
Hughes' grin widened. "Gladly." His attention of the pie was forgotten. Gracia saw him looking at her again. "Might I ask you something? Were you there when I woke up?" He quickly changed suspicion into confirmation. "Yeah, you are!"
Gracia ignored his breakthrough discovery.
"I heard your voice that time." Hughes' eyes grew wider, and not just because of the lenses. Gracia never saw such eyes in a man. They were not pretty like Mustang's, but not handsome either. They had a kindness in them, completely miscast for his sex. "Yep, I was right. You do have a good face."
That unknown compliment stunned Gracia. No man had ever said something like that to her. But the effect was hindered by wariness. Young men at that age were only interested in one thing. Not that she was uninterested with the prospects of physical sex (thinking about it made her warm). But never in the way some young men meant it, where a night of passion quickly led to disinterest and other conquests. Call her old-fashioned (and her friends and colleagues definitely did), but Gracia preferred to make love with someone who thought her with, well, Love. This wariness held against the man's advances, as difficult it felt. Hughes' eyes showed no dark insincerity about his interest in her.
"So what's your name?"
"Stern." Gracia was formal.
"I can see that." Hughes joked. Gracia made a one-minute silence. The attempt for humor was killed on the spot. Then she threw the thermometer into the man's mouth. It was time she nipped this flirting at the bud. "I could lose my job associating with patients."
Unfortunately, her words only lauded the man's determination. "Then I better get well fast," Hughes mumbled.
The next morning Gracia didn't visit Mr. Hughes. She had other things to do besides being his target of flirting. The patient could find better fish in her fellow nurses. It took the afternoon for that visit to become mandatory. Gracia went to the room. She heard silence. Opening the door revealed a nurse making Hughes' empty bed. The meaning of this was plain in her mind, but Gracia still asked. "Where is the patient?"
"He got better." The older nurse, Lucille, glanced at her and continued the blanket folding. "He was discharged an hour ago."
The news put Gracia into a momentary trance of thought. He was discharged an hour ago. Then came the return to reality. Well, that was it. Mr. Hughes was gone now. Feelings of respect flowered in Gracia for this man. He wasn't a bad patient, not a lecher or worse. As she thought about it, his flirting was harmless. And he did like her pie.
Gracia felt a sudden fear of spinsterhood. Would she always turn away eligible men until it was too late? But the fear was just as quick in appearance as entrance. Gracia wanted to marry someone she loved, and loved her in return. Right now, the men she saw were not the kind of mates for that rule. No sense of wasting her chances away just yet. She was still young. Gracia considered more of the drawbacks. Hughes was a little too weird anyway. Chances are 'Chest' got him for a date.
Once her doubts were settled, Gracia got back to work. Her hours were spent caring for patients, treating injuries, and getting medicine. Any thoughts about Maes Hughes faded by the time her shift was done. She donned her cloak and hat from the lounge, and left through the front door. It was snowing again. Fortunately, the white specks had lost much of its might this night. In fact, she could even see a man sitting at the bottom of the steps. His greeting face was recognizable. "Hiya!"
"Mr. Hughes!" Gracia stated his name. She was really surprised. "What are you doing here?"
Hughes sprang to his feet. With a hand at the back of his neck, he gave victory in gesture, face, and eyes. "Isn't it obvious?" He yelled with a dashing grace, showing himself devoid of the serious illness. It was something to admire.
But for Gracia, respect mixed with his possible insincerity. "You're in no condition to be in this weather!"
And sure enough, the perfect man showed some clay feet. He coughed his illness breaths. Recovery was not complete. "I'm…fit as a fiddle!" Hughes flexed himself, beating on his chest, which produced some more gasps. "Besides, didn't you say nurses aren't allowed to socialize with patients? After hearing that, I had to get out of there."
The well-meaning words couldn't penetrate Gracia's well-made guard. She silently walked down the steps.
Hughes attacked her ignorance by following. "In need of a companion, Glacier?"
"My name is Gracia Stern," Gracia's words chilled in her correction. "And I don't need a knight in armor, Mr. Hughes. Besides, you could be contagious."
Hughes leapt a few feet away, and followed her from that distance. "Problem solved."
"You can take a longer one than that. I live outside the city."
"I'll get a car for you, then."
"Don't bother." Gracia stepped away. She saw a war of attrition in these protests. If this man had a reply for everything, then she would have to find a loophole. Time for the impenetrable protest! "Get lost!" Her plead was sharp and strong.
And so Gracia saw the man no longer beside her. She had won. But celebration was not present. A look back saw Hughes departing. He walked away slowly, sadly. Her pride was hit by a worsening concern. She had hurt the man's feelings. She didn't mean to do such a horrible thing.
Gracia found everything opposing her. This cruel action, Hughes' lonely walk, and the snow's bleak atmosphere; all these factors allied and fought her pride, forcing a defeat. "Oh alright!" She yelled. "C'mon!"
Instantly, Maes Hughes rotated to her.
"But only for a while!" Gracia spoke her limits, stern and defiant. Against that resistance was Maes' approach. He happily skipped to her side, like some child winning over his parents. Gracia thought she would regret this. But this grown man was charging to her side with such unmanly glee! How immature. How cute. She should shudder at this sight. Instead, she felt mirth. Hughes' joyful advancement turned the irritation into endearment. Laughter pressured Gracia's frown. A smile will soon come.
Who is this man?
To Be Continued
For Roy's side of the story, read the upcoming part to Memories of a Best Friend