Disclaimer: The following is based of characters as developed by Hiromu Arkawa. By no means do I take credit for their creation and/or character development.
Author's notes: Sorry for the delay, but I've finally gotten a small break that has allowed me to update. Since it's been awhile, here's a quickie overview of what's happened thus far in regards to the 3 major storylines
1) Present day Roy is mourning the death of Maes, expressing this through a very physical and abusive relationship with a woman
2) War time Roy is currently in Ishbal recovering from severe burns (90% of his body) with the help of Dr. Marcoh
3) Military academy Roy has met Maes Hughes for the first time along with his alchemy hating friend, Peter.
Please enjoy this next installment!
Part 3: Nothing
"Usually we like to room alchemy cadets together in the same quad, but I'm afraid there's been a mistake," the resident's hall director spoke over his shoulder to Roy, not far behind.
"A mistake?" The young alchemist stumbled as he pulled his heavy trunk along the creaking corridor. He adjusted the heavy sack slung over his shoulder, "What kind of mistake, Sir?"
"Well, it appears that the office has placed you in with the normal cadets," the hall director spoke to the air in front of him.
Normal…mistake…
"Alright," the hall director stopped abruptly in front of an open door at the end of the narrow corridor, "Here we are."
Roy's eyes widened and his nostrils flared as soon as he set foot in the room. That sweet scent…The room…Everything smelled just like the sleeping car on the train right after the tall man-"Hughes," the other cadet had called him—had entered.
"Normally we wouldn't have had enough beds here to accommodate such an error but as your luck would have it," the director continued, gesturing widely to the empty air in front of him, "We've recently had to expel a cadet from this room for unruly conduct and had to relocate him to a dorm with…stricter guidelines. Thus we had an opening for you."
"Well, it's late. I'll let you get settled then." With that the hall director was gone, creaking back down the thin corridor.
"Uh, thank you," Roy said nearly breathless, his respiratory rate having quickened considerably along with his heart. It was as if the slight scent was oxygen and his lungs were attempting to fill themselves with nothing but it.
Roy dropped his heavy baggage and fell back on the bare mattress that was to be his, his breath still fast.
When he closed his eyes it felt almost as if Hughes was standing inches away from him again. On the train, he had been so close...right in front of him…
(2 years later…at the Cathedral of the Blessed…)
"I'm sorry, there's been a mistake," said Dr. Marcoh, his fingers nervously tracing the metal railing at the end of the hospital bed.
"Mistake? What do you mean a mistake?" Roy's words echoed across the high arched ceiling, "What's wrong with me, Doctor?"
"I-I'm sorry," the doctor mumbled to the dusty floor, "I shouldn't have promised you so much…not without knowing…"
"What do you mean? Without knowing what? Why have I stopped healing?" The young alchemist's voice shook ever so slightly.
Dr. Marcoh cast his face to the floor and closed his eyes, "The nerves of the body, Son. They're just too complicated, too far beyond my alchemic skills."
Roy said nothing, his dark, moist eyes widening.
"I was hoping that with the stone I would be able to…"
"But, Doctor, I can feel. I feel the breeze; warmth; touch; pain, excruciating pain every time you treat me with the Philosopher's Stone. I feel everything against and under my skin. There's nothing wrong with my nerves."
"It's not those kinds of nerves, Son," Dr. Marcoh finally looked up from the foot of the bed, "The human body contains 2 sets of nerves. One set is for sensory and feeling purposes. The second set is for relaying messages from your brain to your muscles for movement. The problem with your body, Son, is this second set of nerves, the motor nerves that control your movements and fine motor skills. I've been able to restore your muscle reflexes and gross muscle contractions but…Surely you've noticed that though you are able to bend your arms and legs, move your hands and fingers in slight motions, you are unable to coordinate any of your movements in any concise pattern."
"So what does this mean for me, Doctor?" The young soldier's lips barely moved, as if they were afraid to utter the question. His heart thumped heavily in his chest, knowing already what the dreaded answer was going to be, but he wanted to hear it.
Marcoh grit his teeth and cast his eyes back down to linger on the chipped painted railing at the end of the bed, "I am afraid, Son, that it means that no matter how much further physical rehabilitation the nuns and nurses put you through, you will not…improve anymore."
At first, no words came out of Roy's open mouth. He too lowered his head, his sweat matted bangs falling into his eyes as they traced the infinite right angles of the tightly knit hospital blanket, "Why don't you just come out and say it, Marcoh? Stop beating around the bush."
"Son, I—"
"Just say it, Doctor!" Roy felt the warmth spill down his cheeks and trail down his jaw line, "Tell me I'm not going to walk again! Tell me I'll never be able to use my hands again! Tell me the truth!"
"Son, I didn't say that."
"No," the young soldier swallowed hard, "you didn't. But we both know that the nurses haven't been able to get me out of this bed without falling yet, let alone retrain my hands to stop shaking and to hold anything right. I can't even wrap my fingers around a God damn spoon to feed myself."
Marcoh closed his eyes again, confirming the young alchemist's implications. The corners of the doctor's mouth sank further as the look on his face became more severe. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've failed you," he repeated, "But you're life isn't over. There are ways we can accommodate your…condition."
"You think we can compensate?" The bed bound soldier snickered darkly. "I don't think you understand, Marcoh," Roy whipped his head up to face the man standing at the end of the bed, "You brought me back; you tease my body by healing it and giving it the strength to weakly wave its limbs around erratically…and to shake with tremors; you teased me with hope; but what have you left me with? Sure, I'd be able to get used using a wheelchair to get around, but…it's my hands, Doc."
"Even then, Son, there are ways to—"
"I. Am. An. Alchemist! Without the use of my hands, I am NOTHING!" Roy hunched over, lowering his head again, his shoulders shaking, "You of all people should understand that…God why did you bring me back?"
"Don't talk like that," the doctor straightened up, "You have to realize that you've come a long way since they wheeled you in here. I nearly committed 'the taboo' with you considering how much I had to replace and reconstruct from nothingness!" Gripping the metal railing, the doctor leaned over the end of the bed as he said this.
Nothingness…
"So what was all that pain you put me through for? What does that make me now, Doctor? What am I, now?"
Nothingness…
Not a word past between the two alchemists until Roy laughed cynically, again. "Perhaps," he spoke to his shaking hands, resting in his lap, "you could take my eyes back again and exchange it for the nerves in my hands."
The doctor's gaze softened. He took a step back from the bed, "You know that's not how equivalent exchange works, Son."
"Then just drown me in oil and burn me up, again…"
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Marcoh took another step back from the bed, "Even if I did and even if I tried to bring you back a second time, we'd still end up here. As I said before…the damage to your nerves is far too complicated and severe for my alchemic skill, even with the stone." Roy heard the doctor take another step back.
"Doctor, where are you going?" Roy spoke softly.
"I am needed elsewhere," was all Marcoh mumbled.
"You'll be back later, won't you? Doctor Marcoh?" Roy looked up just in time to catch the tail of the doctor's white coat as he disappeared behind the yellow curtain, "Doctor Marcoh, wait! Please!"
"Wait!" Somehow, the young man wretched himself out of the bed. However, no sooner did he attempt to drag his foot forward when both his trembling legs crumpled under him. He slammed prone against the dusty, stone floor, pulling the thin hospital curtain off its rings and down with him.
"Please," Roy panted as he watched the doctor's figure grow smaller as he travelled further down the long hallway with the high arched ceiling.
(A couple years ago…)
"So, you really have lowered yourself to the level of a cowardly dog of the military. Clearly, I was right to not teach you alchemy of the flame, yet. You aren't ready and now you never will be."
"Sensei," Roy pleaded.
"Now get out, you bastard dog," Professor Hawkeye whispered, a rage quietly building inside him, "Get out of my house! You are nothing but a coward to me now."
"But, Sensei, please give me a chance," Roy lowered his head in a full bow, "You've only taught me the basic fundamentals of alchemy and you've seen how quickly and how much I've learned, already."
"And it was a waste teaching you!"
The young alchemist fell the ground, his jaw throbbing hotly. It was the first and only time the Professor had struck him, "You son of a bitch. You had so much potential. I was hoping to pass my research on to you, but now…what have you done?" Relaxing his angry fist, the old man turned his back on the trembling boy.
"I shouldn't have believed in you. I should have never taken a weakling like you in," the Professor spoke to the air in front of him, "I should have let you burn…"
(A few months later…Back at the academy dorm room…)
Tears. There were tears in Roy's eyes when he awoke. The young cadet blinked several times, attempting to push them away. It was dark outside now, the sun having set only a few hours ago. Roy blinked a few more times, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim light of the dorm room.
"Well well well," a figure stepped into his field of view and stood over him. Immediately, the voice turned a knot in Roy's stomach. "If it isn't the faggot alchemist from the train."
Before Roy even had a chance to jump to his feet, Peter's hands were on him. Throwing a hardened fist across Roy's face, the angel haired delinquent pushed him back against the bare mattress.
"I can't believe Hughes' new roommate is a fucking alchemist. I can't believe they replaced me with you!" Peter smirked, his fist about Roy's collar shaking, "But I'll make sure that you won't be staying here tonight."
Despite his previous combat training, Roy's attempts to defend himself were easily reversed by Peter's sheer strength and hate. His vision began to blur as Peter continued to bury his fists into him and across his face. All the while Roy could swear he heard Peter laughing, "Ever since the train, I've been wanting to do this."
A sharp metallic taste flooded Roy's mouth. Instinctively, his body began to curl up tightly on the floor, as if such a position would protect him from Peter's heels. As the room began to grow dark, the last thing Roy could remember thinking over and over again was, "Hughes…" He looked to the door several times before losing complete consciousness, "Hughes…"
(Present day…)
Maes…
"Are you alright?" Gracia's voice carried over the table, "You haven't touched your food."
The colonel jumped and broke his gaze from the darkly finished front door. He looked down at his full plate.
"Oh," he said, smiling at Gracia and then Elysia who continued to play with her dinner, "I'm sorry. I just haven't been sleeping well lately."
When Hughes had been alive, he had always invited Mustang over for dinner on Thursdays. Roy didn't know why, but even after Maes' passing, he continued to come. Gracia was just too kind to turn him away and seemed to partly welcome the company. On occasion, when Roy had gotten up to leave, she would squeeze his hand and ask him to stay a little while longer. He never resisted her.
However, no matter how many times he visited; no matter how many times he would gaze longingly at the cherry wood stained front door, Roy knew that Maes was never going to come through that door.
Author's notes: So…what'd you think? Does it make sense? Too emo? I know with all these flashbacks it can be a little confusing at times but I soon hope to focus on one storyline at a time which will hopefully bring things together and make things a lot more clear. All I hope and ask of you all is to stick with me despite the frequent flashbacks. It'll all come together eventually, trust me :)
Let me know what you think! Suggestions and constructive criticism are welcome!
