Hush child, Let your mommy sleep in to the night until we rise
Hush child, Let me soothe the shining tears that gather in your eyes
Hush child, All the strength I'll need to fight, I'll find inside your eyes
Lullaby for an anxious child - Sting
Roy stared at his steering wheel. He had been sitting here for at least fifteen minutes.
Yesterday it had taken him half an hour before he had turned the key and driven home. The day before he hadn't even lasted for five minutes.
He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. What a coward he was.
With one gesture he removed the key from the contact. There, he had done it.
His hand found the handle and opened the door. He felt the cold wind touch his face as soon as he stepped out and he almost gave up there and then. Yet he gritted his teeth, locked the door and crossed the now empty street. Shadows were everywhere, cast by the faint light of the lamps, but he knew how to open the little fence. He knew exactly where the latch was, how he had to push it back a little when lifting it, so that it would not get stuck behind the nail that was so carelessly left protruding at the back of the wood. He had opened it many times before. Weekly before his transfer East, yet now he could not even remember when he last was here. A year ago? Perhaps longer?
He reached the door and hesitated once more. What if he rang the bell and the little one was already asleep? Should he not come back another time, tomorrow perhaps?
Again he took a deep breath and forced his hand to move. The knock sounded faint even to his own ears. Perhaps she would not hear him, perhaps she was not home.
But of course she did hear the knock, of course she was home.
The light turned on inside and shone through the tiny window next to the door. He heard footsteps approaching and it took all the strength he could muster to not run away.
When the door opened he barely dared look up. "Hey," was all he could say.
"Roy." She wasn't surprised to see him after all. He studied her face and saw how tired she looked, how worn. It was to be expected.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you so late. If you don't want to see me, I'll be gone again. I understand."
"No," she said with something that probably was meant to be a smile, but looked more like a grimace to him. "No. Come in. Maes wouldn't have wanted me to let you standing out in the cold on a night like this."
He cringed, but followed her nonetheless.
He felt the warmth of the house as soon as he stepped inside, and suddenly realised that he indeed had been very cold out there. He shrugged off his coat and saw her eyes widen when she realised that he was still wearing his uniform. Inwardly he cursed. He could at least have gone home and changed, but he knew very well that if he had done that, he would have never found the courage to return here. There already had been too many of those cowardly nights.
"Thank you, Gracia." He simply said as she accepted his coat, but he didn't know if he was in fact thanking her for just accepting his coat or for letting him into her house at all. He had considered the possibility that she would not want to see him.
"Take a seat."
They were sitting across each other on the couch and an awkward silence fell. For a moment Roy regretted that he had come at all. She looked sad, and very, very tired and he did not know what to say.
He was lousy with words, he knew that all too well. Oh he could manage the day-to-day hassle, he could drive people towards a goal, he could hold a speech and engage in sharp wordplay with his subordinates. But when the topic was truly important, he never knew what to say. Especially when he felt that anything that he could say, would sound like a meaningless platitude anyway. I'm so sorry for your loss. How are you doing. Are you managing on your own. Don't hesitate to call if I can help.
He already knew what the answer would be to those sentences. She would put up a brave face and nod, say that she did not need any help, say that she was fine while she was not.
She was not the first wife that he visited in these circumstances. People under his command had died in the military, it was part of the job. But there had been too many of them in these last years and all those wives and occasionally husbands had acted the same, and every time again he would leave angry and frustrated that he could not make a difference, that they would not or could not say how he could really help.
But this was not any wife. She was Maes' wife and for his sake, he had to do better than all those other times.
So he sat in silence, determined to listen to her. For the longest time, he waited. Just as he thought that she was going to say something, just as he saw her eyes drift to the mass of portraits that stood on the mantelpiece, as if she was looking for support, he heard the child begin to cry.
"Daddy, daddy! They are here again, daddy please!"
He saw her raw grief for a brief moment while she rose. After, it was gone again, but he had seen it and she knew it.
She averted her eyes. "I'm sorry, Elicia is having a nightmare again. I have to go check on her, I'll be back in a minute."
He nodded and watched her disappear towards the staircase. She looked so damn tired.
He heard the crying grow louder, and he heard the soothing sound of a mother attempting to calm her child.
He felt like an intruder. He did not belong here. Nausea rose, and he almost fled out of the door. Instead, he forced himself to stand and watch the pictures on the mantelpiece.
The picture of Maes and him, hidden between the many photos of Elicia and their little happy family, took him by surprise. It was an old picture, dating from their academy days, but it felt like a knife twisting in his stomach. He swallowed, desperate to keep the bile from rising to his mouth. He told himself that there was nothing left to throw up. There was nothing in his stomach. He had taken care of that, ever since he had had to run to the bathroom at work on that first day after the funeral.
Elicia's crying turned into a loud howling, and he decided he could no longer stand it. He would go up, and disturb Gracia for a moment to say that he was leaving and would return sometime later.
He mounted the stairs with heavy feet and though he did not know where the little one's room was, he had only to follow the sound.
He froze when he was near enough to make out the words she was crying.
"No, no, you cannot defeat them! Only daddy can. I want my daddy! Those monsters are bad, mommy! Daddy said that he could defeat them because he was a soldier! He said so!"
"Elicia, dear, daddy cannot come." Roy could hear Gracia was close to tears herself. "But I'm sure he watches over you, I'm sure he does. I will try to chase the monsters away for you. I will stay with you until you sleep, and I'll guard you."
"No mommy! You are no soldier! You will die too, and then I will be all alone!" Elicia's shrieks became ever more hysteric and Roy fought back his own tears.
Before he knew it, his feet carried him further, and as he rounded the corner of the little girl's room, he saw the despair in both mother and child as they clung to each other.
It was a sight he would never forget.
Softly he scraped his throat. "Hey Elicia, remember me?"
She looked at him with those big eyes of hers, hiding safely in her mother's arms, and it made him realise exactly how small she still was. Smaller than he had been when he had lost his parents. He quickly pushed the thought away and tried to smile at her.
She nodded between two sobs, "Daddy showed me your picture. You are his Tabitha he said." He must have had a confused look on his face, for the little one added, "She's my best friend too you know! Daddy said you got me a ducky for my birthday."
Again he had to steel his nerves not to lose it, but he had had plenty of practice and he managed to keep the smile on his face. "That's right, a green ducky. Did your daddy tell you that I am a soldier too? We went to soldier-school together, did you know that?"
She shook her head, but her breathing calmed and the sobbing became less and less violent.
"So Elicia, would you trust me to stay with you to watch over you? I think your mommy needs to rest too."
He hadn't been able to see Gracia's face so far, as she had hid it against Elicia's little shoulder, holding her close, so close. But now she looked up at him, with a regard in her eyes that held wonder and gratitude and embarrassment all at the same time.
Roy stepped in and knelt next to the bed. Elicia turned to face him, sitting on her mother's lap, no longer clinging to her, but still very close.
"See, I have my uniform on. Those monsters won't even attack when they see me, and if they do, I will fight them with all my might!"
His eyes crossed Gracia's for a brief moment, and he tried to tell her with his look that he meant it, that he would do anything to protect this child, to find whoever did this to her, to find who had left them so bereaved. To his surprise, he found a gentle smile on her face as she touched her daughter's cheek and said, "you know, Elicia, Roy here, he's a true hero. 'The hero of Ishbal'. They even call him that in the military. So I think you need not worry. If he says he'll guard you, you are safe."
He kept his face straight. He had never been proud of that title, but he had willingly accepted it, knowing it held political power. Perhaps now for the first time, at the sight of that sudden expression of delight on this little, tear-stained face, he was glad that he had received it.
"Really?"
"Really," he said. "So will you now go to sleep, little one? I'll get a chair, and I'll keep watch at your door if you want me to.
Her lip started to tremble again and confused, he wondered what was wrong. Then she blurted it out, "can you stay here next to me? Daddy always put a chair next to my bed for if the monsters come from underneath…"
Again, for the so-manieth time that night, he tried to push back this ever-increasing feeling of nausea, and he nodded.
Gracia rose and gently laid the child down on her pillow, hushing her and saying that she would get the chair for the soldier.
He leaned against the door frame while he waited, watching Elicia curl up in the shadows.
When Gracia returned, she touched his shoulder and whispered a very quiet thank you. "Hopefully she falls asleep quickly."
He gently grasped her hand before she could go in the room again. "I will stay as long as it takes, Gracia. Don't worry about me, I'll take care of her. Go to sleep too. Have a night of undisturbed rest just this once. I will watch over her, I swear."
She nodded, and for the first time he saw the tears on her cheeks. "Usually she's fine after a few hours, if you want to go home then, just drop the key in the letter box. Or if you want to stay, there's a bed in the room next door that you can use."
He nodded, and sat himself down on the chair next to the child's bed and patiently waited for her little eyes to close. She seemed to feel at ease in his presence though, and he did not have to wait long. Yet he did not move. He had promised to watch over her after all.
Hours passed and the hard chair prodded his back. It was a good thing. It kept him awake.
Part of him longed to be rummaging through documents, part of him hated it that he had to sit still, in this quiet house, with nothing to do but to think. Most of him was content to be able to finally do something for this little child that had meant the world to his friend.
She shifted in her sleep and he moved somewhat closer. Sleepily she opened her eyes, and she smiled as she saw him. "Daddy? Are you home? I knew you would come." She said, only half awake.
Roy knelt next to her, cursing his uniform once more. "No little one, it's just me. Sleep, I'll protect you. No one will harm you. I will protect you."
She pushed herself up a little, the sudden realisation that it was not her daddy, and unavoidable subsequent disappointment all visible on her little face. Tears started welling up in her eyes again and Roy fought back his panic. It was one thing to boldly say that he would chase the monsters away, comforting a child alone was something entirely different.
"I think the monsters got daddy. Mommy says it is not true, but I think they did."
He clenched his fist. She was right of course, in a way. No one would consider a murderer anything less than a monster. He was one too, after all.
"I'll find them for you, Elicia, and I'll make sure they cannot do anything bad ever again."
She nodded, serious as only a three-year-old could be, perfectly content with that one promise. He gently stroked her hair, as he had seen Maes do so many times before, and watched her fall asleep again.
As the night wore on, and he watched this anxious child, things became clearer.
However hard it was to admit it, his subordinates had been right. He had to keep up his strength if he wanted to continue. He had to find the one who did this to Maes' family. He had to fight. He had made a promise. He had to force himself to listen to his lieutenant when she haughtily told him that he had to eat, even if he didn't feel like it, when Havoc pushed him to go home and sleep, even if he wanted to keep his mind occupied at work.
Should he ever doubt on what path to take, should he ever falter, all he would have to do was to remember this little girl's sadness. It should be more than enough to keep him going.
When the sun rose again, he shifted in the chair.
He had not slept. He had promised to watch over her after all. It was not so different from the many nightly vigils he had completed in times of war.
The clock showed six thirty when Gracia too woke. He could hear her on the other side of the house, and somehow it was comforting to realise that he had succeeded, that she had had an uneventful night.
When she came to look after her daughter, he held a finger to his lips and quietly rose until he was just outside Elicia's room. He remained careful to stay within the little one's line of sight, just in case, but at least here he was less likely to wake her with his whispering.
"She slept well. She has barely woken, and only once did she cry a little in her sleep. It quickly passed, and after she was at peace again." He did not mention why she had cried, he would not pain Gracia with that knowledge.
Gracia smiled, a genuine, soft smile this time. Something that both surprised and delighted him. "So did I. It has been ages since I have had an uninterrupted night. Not since…" her voice trailed off and he looked at her, a serious expression on his face.
"Gracia, if I need to come watch over her again, let me know. You know I don't mind. You don't need to go through this alone."
She nodded, and for once, he allowed himself to believe that indeed, this time, he might have really said the right thing. That at least Gracia didn't consider his words to be hollow platitudes.
"You look terrible though, have you not slept at all? Do you want to refresh yourself?"
He shook his head, "I have a spare shirt at work, I'll change there." and a razor and a toothbrush in my desk, he added in his mind. There had been too many nights staying over lately.
"At least stay for breakfast?"
He recoiled at the thought, but then reminded himself of his promise. He could at least try.
He walked out of Maes' door at seven thirty. He had managed to eat a whole piece of toast, a first since the funeral, and somehow he felt a little lighter.
He opened the gate, and pulled back with a yelp as he scratched his hand at the protruding nail. He had told Maes so many times to fix it. Told him that it was dangerous, that someone might get an infected wound from such a rusty nail. It was a good thing that he wasn't wearing his gloves, or they would have been ruined.
Determined to bring a pair of pliers on his next visit, he stepped into his car, and drove to work.