AN: Response to a challenge laid out by one of my friends. The scientist in me couldn't refuse, and the result is a multi-chapter drama dealing with sexuality, politics, transsexuals, sexism, medicine, identity crises, and military hierarchy. Since only racism is covered by the actual series, I ended up dealing with other forms of discrimination. Yaaay.
So much for a simple genderswitch challenge.
It had finally come to the point where it couldn't be ignored. Where Mustang's subordinates could no longer pretend that nothing was wrong, or that the Major General was just suffering from a spring cold. The point where there was simply no denying that something was seriously wrong.
Because as much as they could ignore, Mustang throwing up blood into the wastebasket by his desk and then passing out face first in his paperwork was not something to be taken lightly.
He woke up in the hospital, with a grim-faced nurse hovering over him. She blinked in surprise when he opened his eyes, before stepping away from the bed.
"I'll call your doctor. Please stay still until someone can join you, sir." She said, stepping out of the room.
Roy stared up at the ceiling- a familiar sight by now. A hospital bed, the white painted walls of a sterile room staring silently at him. It was almost surreal every time- the last thing he remembers being intense pain, followed by the numb white of hospitalization. Although this time he had been shot or stabbed or burned- this time his own body had betrayed and attacked him.
He gave a weak laugh at the thought. There were so few people he could trust- and now even his own body was against him.
The doctor came in- a bored-looking man with scar cross his face. He approached the bed, glancing quickly at a clipboard. "Good morning, Major General Mustang. I'm Dr. Stein, and I've been the one treating you during your stay. Are you lucid?"
Roy blinked wearily, but nodded. "Yeah. Whatever you've got me on isn't as strong as what they use in the field, so I'm fine. How long was I out?"
"Only about ten hours." He glanced at the clipboard again. "Do you have any idea what could have caused this episode?"
Roy winced. "I have an idea. I'm hoping I'm wrong."
Dr. Stein nodded. "I had figured as much. I'm betting you saw this coming for a while. We looked at your medical records, and it looks like you've been having problems for a while. We also talked to the people who brought you in, to gauge your symptoms and time frame, and dug up dug up some medical records from your family. Based on this information, we have a pretty good idea of what the problem is, but that's worst-case scenario. I'd like to hear what's been bothering you from you yourself before making a call like that."
Mustang scoffed. "You sure went through a lot of trouble, didn't you?"
The doctor smiled. "Not at all. Your subordinates volunteered the information when they brought you in, and we only looked at your family's history to confirm a suspicion after your examination." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "Now, could you describe your symptoms?"
Roy sighed. "Vomiting, nausea, diarrhea, frequent urination, problems urinating, urinating blood, vomiting blood, bleeding easily, anemia, loss of appetite, skin irritation and possible jaundice, fever, swelling, erratic weight changes, frequent changes in heart rate, fatigue, and a taste for human flesh." He listed robotically. He knew them by heart, had read about them and recognized each one as it appeared within himself.
Stein raised an eyebrow. "What was that last one again?"
"Fatigue?"
"Of course." He flipped the clipboard closed and put it in the basket at the end of Mustang's bed. "I was afraid of that. Symptoms of kidney and liver failure, but also ones that present themselves when an organ is rejected." The doctor sighed. "Honestly, for you to be in such horrible shape means you must have been ignoring things for a long time. Although, I doubt we would have been able to do much even if we had caught it earlier, so I guess I can understand at least a little."
Roy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's Roettger's, isn't it?"
Dr. Stein nodded. "I'm afraid so. You probably saw this coming for a long time. And as you know, there's very little we can do. Your kidneys and liver are already failing, and the rest of your organs will follow. Assuming you live long enough for it to reach your heart and lungs, anyway. I'd say you have a few months; up to six at best. I'm sorry."
Mustang let out a bitter chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "Like my father's father before me," he muttered solemnly. "So much for fixing this rotten country. I can't even live to forty, much less change the world."
Stein looked at him in a curious manner, as if evaluating him. He closed the door, cutting off the room from the rest of the hospital. "You want to change the world, Major General?"
Roy looked at the doctor seriously. "I'm willing to climb over a mountain of corpses if it means preventing the hell of war even once." His gaze left Stein, focusing on some distant point in nothingness. "Not that it matters anymore. Any time I left I could have used to even bring someone else to the top will be wasted in a hospital bed."
The white lights of the hospital room reflected off of Dr. Stein's glasses, shielding his eyes from view. "I'm going to go ahead and sign your release papers."
Black eyes blinked in surprise. "Huh?"
"You're an alchemist, aren't you Mr. Mustang?" Stein jotted something down on a piece of paper quickly. "Do me a favor, would you? I have a friend in lower Central City I'd like you to visit. He might be able to help you come to terms with your condition." He smiled, handing the paper to Roy. He walked towards the door and prepared to leave, calling out as he left. "Good luck changing the world, Major General."
Roy looked at the paper. And then he read it again, just in case he saw it wrong the first time. And then he threw back his head and laughed so hard he couldn't breathe.
There was hope.
Dr. Edward Elric, 1408 West Mako Ave. lower Central City, 33018