A Home for a Boy Named Ed

These are the misadventures of Roy Mustang and his little son, Ed. A series of one-shots that take place before the events of A Boy Named Ed. Not written in chronological order.


A.N. With less than 2,000 words left to write for NaNoWriMo, I have decided to give you all another story about Roy and little Ed. This one's a little rough though – just warning you.

Disclaimer: Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

Rating: This story is rated K+


We All Fall Down

Age: 2

"Daddy."

Roy looked up from his work at the plaintive call from his son. The boy was sitting at his own little desk, in a chair specially designed to help him stay upright despite his missing limbs. It had a large padded arm on the right side which Ed could lean against so that he didn't have to worry about keeping his balance while he practiced drawing circles – Ed loved drawing circles.

Looking over, Roy noted that the boy had once again removed the simple prosthetic from his left leg and the dummy had been discarded on the floor by his chair. He'd only been fitted for the leg two weeks ago and, while it had thrilled him to be able to stand up straight without holding anything and to take those first tentative steps on his own, the two-year-old was not yet comfortable wearing it all the time and had quickly figured out how to undo the strap and harness which held it in place. It still baffled Roy just how much little Ed could learn how to do one handed. Of course, the boy still couldn't put it back on by himself.

What Roy found curious in this moment, though, was that Ed was not looking at him. The boy was still staring at the paper on his desk, his hand still moving in careful, precise motions to create the circles he as so fond of drawing. It almost seemed that Roy had imagined his son's voice calling out to him.

"What is it, Ed?" He asked, just to be sure. But the boy did not reply. That was typical. Selective hearing, Gracia called it – common in toddlers especially when they are focused on a specific task. Roy rolled his eyes and went back to work. If Ed needed him, he would say something. The boy was very good at making his needs known. He made ample use of his rapidly growing vocabulary. The kid eats words for breakfast.

"Daddy."

Once more, Roy turned in his seat to look at his son. But Ed hadn't moved. He was still staring at his paper. "What is it, Ed?" he asked again. There was no response. Roy sighed and pushed himself up from his seat. "I very busy right now, Ed. Do you need something or not?"

Silence.

Ed knew better than to do something like this. If he needed something or had a question, he could ask and his father was always ready to answer. But the agreement was simple. The sooner Daddy finished his work, the sooner they could play and read and maybe have a treat before bedtime. Roy opened his mouth to remind the child of this but the word caught in his throat.

The crayon wasn't moving. It was tilting precariously in a weak grasp. What's more, the boy was leaning too heavily against the arm of the chair, his head lilting oddly to one side.

"Daddy."

It was the weakened note in Ed's call that spurred Roy into action. "Are you okay, Ed?" He crouched down and placed the back of his hand against the boy's forehead. His eyes widened in a sudden gasp. "You're burning up! Where did this come from? You were fine at dinner."

All thoughts of work were forgotten as he picked up his son and hurried to the kitchen. He found the thermometer buried in his junk drawer and rinsed it off quickly before sliding it into the boy's mouth. "Under your tongue, Ed." Normally that demand would receive an argument or at least a scowl. Ed hated keeping the thermometer under his tongue. But boy offered no protest this time.

Roy bit back the worry and panic which threatened to overcome him. This wasn't the first time Ed had been sick. He knew what to do. And if he wasn't sure, Riza was only a phone call away. They would be fine. He could handle this.

Thirty-nine degrees Celsius… that's high. Discarding the thermometer, Roy quickly found a washcloth and ran it under the tap for a few seconds. He maneuvered about, one handed, wringing and awkwardly folding the cloth before dabbing it against his son's flushed cheeks and forehead.

Ed cringed away from the touch. "Cold…" he whimpered.

"I know, Son. But it'll help bring your fever down." Roy continued his ministrations. "How do you feel, Ed? What hurts?"

Ed stared listlessly for a moment. His eyes were hazy and dim. "Head hurt… Back hurt… ever'ting hurt." He turned away from the cold cloth and buried his face against Roy's shoulder. "Daddy."


Roy spent the night at his son's bedside, changing cold cloths and assisting with sips of water. So far Ed had managed to keep both his dinner and the water down, though he'd started complaining of stomach aches near midnight. He slept fitfully and woke frequently. Roy didn't sleep at all.

It wasn't an unfamiliar routine. Ed had gotten sick several times over the past two years. Roy had panicked the first time, calling Riza and Gracia and Knox. He'd been desperate. But their careful coaching had given him some confidence. He knew what to do and what signs to watch for. But Ed was a resilient boy. He bounced back quickly from illness and would likely be back to his normal self within twenty-four hours.

Nevertheless, Roy had placed a call to Riza, letting her know that Ed was sick, just in case. He planned to call Knox in the morning. It wouldn't hurt to have the good doctor make a house call. Knox enjoyed visiting Ed anyway – a happy toddler was far better for the old man's soul than his usual patients.


"Thirty-two hours." Roy said, holding the phone receiver to his ear. "No, the fever hasn't broken… he's been sleeping mostly… I gave him some broth last night but it didn't stay down. I've been able to get him to drink water but that's it… he says his back hurts… headache, stomachache. He's mentioned his leg a few times but… I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you."

Roy hung up the phone and sunk heavily against the couch. He was exhausted.

Riza was sitting with Ed now, supposedly so that Roy could get some sleep. But worry had driven him to call Knox a second time and make arrangements for the doctor to visit.

Ed had never been sick for this long before unless it was a cold. Colds took forever, but they didn't keep the boy bedridden with fevers and aches. This was different and after a second night spent watching over his ailing son, Roy had decided it was time to call in the cavalry.


"Poliomyelitis."

The word hung in the air between the three adults and the sleeping child. Cold fear gripped Roy's heart as he tried to deny what he already knew that word meant. It couldn't be. Not Ed. Not his son.

"Are you certain?"

The doctor nodded. "It's the most likely explanation although I couldn't say for sure without proper testing. There's a small epidemic going around Central. Doctors have been working to contain it but with all the stagnant water this summer, there's only so much that can be done. Ed's not the first child to have contracted it."

Rainy nights and hot days. Water had been pooling in the gutters for weeks and children loved to play in the puddles to escape the heat. All it took was a few contaminated pools and the disease would spread. Ed had been playing in one of those puddles just last week.

"Why haven't they issued a warning? Why didn't we know?" Roy bit back his anger. It wouldn't help to take this out on Knox. The old man usually worked with dead people. It wasn't his job to warn the living.

"They're likely trying to prevent a panic. No telling what people will do when they hear the word polio. It's still early anyway. The first case was only reported two weeks ago. I expect the warning will go out soon."

"It'll go out tomorrow."Riza said firmly and Roy knew he could count on her to make it happen. Not that it would help Ed.

With a frustrated sigh, Roy sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through Ed's sweaty hair. The boy had been miserable when he was awake and didn't seem too much better while sleeping.

"What does it even mean?" He needed to know. There was only so much information out there about polio and most of it was really bad. Paralysis or death – that's what he'd heard. Neither was something he could just sit back and except for his Ed. I can't lose him. And he can't afford to lose anymore limbs. There had to be another way.

"Infantile paralysis." Riza whispered, resignedly.

"Not always." Knox corrected. "Rarely, actually. That nickname is something of a misnomer. It suggests an outcome which is really only true for less than one percent of those infected. Most people never show symptoms and less than ten percent take ill at all. Yes, it can lead to paralysis or even death. But it's too early to say if either will be the case here."

"How do we know? What do we do?" Roy couldn't keep the desperate note out of his voice.

"For starters, take care not to contract or spread the disease yourselves. Lots of soap and hot water – I'm sure you know the drill. As for Ed – watch for loss in reflexes, severe pain, or floppy limbs. These are signs of paralytic polio. Beyond that, keep him hydrated. Try to get some food in him. And let it run its course. It'll be about ten days. I'll give you a prescription for an antibiotic which should help ward off additional infection. Baring any complications, he could make a complete recovery."

"And if there are complications?"

Knox sighed heavily. "I'm not going to lie to you, Mustang. It's hard to say what the extent of the damage could be until it's done. At that point, you'll do what you have to do. But I've seen a lot of kids come out of this just fine and given… who this kid is, I really don't think he's gonna go down without a fight."


"Hush little baby, don't say a word. Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird."

He lay on the bed, curled up beside his boy. Ed was whimpering in his sleep and Roy did his best to soothe him with a gentle hand on his forehead and that old lullaby which still didn't make any sense.

"And if that mockingbird don't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring."

Three more days had passed. Ed hadn't gotten any worse. But he hadn't gotten any better either. Roy's heart ached as he watched his little boy lying there, in so much pain. There was nothing he could do about it. Ed was growing weaker by the day, unable to eat any food or drink very much. Until he did… he was still at risk. He was still in danger – maybe not of paralysis; Knox didn't think that was the case this time as the additional symptoms had not shown. But he could still die. And Roy… despite all of his power as an alchemist, as a soldier, as a General, could do nothing to stop it.

"And if that diamond ring turns brass, Papa's gonna buy you a looking glass.

All he could do was sing a stupid song and hope that his little boy was strong enough to overcome this.

"And if that looking glass should…" His voice caught and he choked back a sob. His eyes stung with unshed tears as he pulled the boy close and buried his face in soft yellow hair. "You have to pull through this, Ed. You have to… I can't lose you now. Do you hear me, kid? You're stronger than this. You were the Fullmetal Alchemist. You can do anything. Don't let this beat you… Don't die… that's an order, kid. You're not allowed to die."


"Daddy?"

"Hey, Ed. How're you feeling, kiddo?"

Eight days had passed since that first night. Ed's fever had finally broken and he seemed to be slowly regaining his strength.

"Hungry."

"I'll get you some soup." Roy started to turn back towards the kitchen but the boy shook his head.

"No soup."

"Well what do you want?"

Ed's face scrunched up in serious thought before he announced his answer. "Pie. Can Aunt Gracia make me a pie?"

Roy smiled. "Let's have some soup first. Then I'll call Gracia and see about that pie.


They were lucky.

In the weeks and months that followed, Roy heard stories about other children who'd contracted that horrible disease. Polio had run its course through Central, taking twenty-three lives and leaving seventeen crippled. In the grand scheme of things, it really was a minor epidemic. But for the parents who'd lost a child and for the children who'd been paralyzed, it was so much more. Their lives would never be the same.

Roy watched Ed toddle around on his prosthetic after Hayate. The boy was finally getting the hang of the thing and was willing to leave it on for extended periods. They were going in for an arm fitting next month.

Seeing his son now, all smiling and happy and energetic, it was hard to imagine just how close he'd been to death, not long ago. Ed was strong and he had pulled through. But it could have been so much worse.

Yes, they were lucky. And Roy wasn't going to take these days for granted.

As his son ran past, Roy grabbed the boy and swopped him into the air. Ed squealed, excited to be caught, but then Roy pulled him close in a tight hug. The boy tilted his head, inquisitively.

"What was that for, Daddy?"

"Because I love you, Son."

Ed beamed and snuggled against his father's shoulder. "Love you too, Daddy!"