Disclaimer: I own nothing but for a job that`s trying to kill me!
I want to say thanks to LilDemonWarrior, KageNoNeko, StarCatcher1858, Hina Kita, womanking and ssadropout for their awesome reviews!
I also want to say a big thank you to ssadropout for beta-reading this chapter!
Chapter 9 – Marriage Problems
September 24th, 1917
Two people in ordinary civilian clothes wouldn't call anyone's attention in the middle of a busy street at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. That was the exact reason why the two men had chosen to meet on that Sunday and at that specific place. They were coming from different directions when they met, and anyone who saw them would think they had just bumped into each other by coincidence. They talked in an apparently informal way, despite keeping their voices down so no one would hear them.
"So, do you know your orders already?" Breda asked, walking by Falman's side as they crossed the street.
"Yes, and what about you?"
"I've been given my orders too."
"Are you going to disappear?" Falman asked in a concerned voice.
"No. I have to stay. And you?"
"I'll be disappearing," the older man answered, slightly annoyed. He didn't like the drama his disappearance would involve.
"You're lucky. I'd rather disappear than stay."
They got to the other block, said good-bye friendly and loudly, and went in opposite directions. This was the last time they'd see each other for a long time.
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September 26th, 1917
Raindrops kept falling on the roof of the old warehouse in the countryside. It was dark already, and the clouds covered the sky not allowing the moon to show itself for the big group hiding in the night. A man was sitting by the door carrying a rifle and watching the endless darkness. Inside the warehouse there were lots of people. Some were young, some were a bit older, but all of them had served the country before and believed themselves to still be serving the country's best interest.
"Did you want to read the news?" a guy with bandages covering most of his left arm asked another one, who had been sitting on a crate, smoking calmly for the last few minutes.
"Yup. Thanks," Havoc said, taking the newspaper the other held to him.
He read the front page, not surprised at the news. Nymbe had forced the Fuhrer to sign another treaty, one about taxes this time. There was news about the reconstruction of bombarded buildings in the west, some news about executions, and so on. Nothing different. Havoc turned to a page that he read hesitatingly every day, the obituaries. It contained the names of Amestrian soldiers and civilians and since lots of people had already lost their lives, he always read it, hoping that he wouldn't find any names he was familiar with. That day, however, he wasn't so lucky.
"Oh, no… No…" he mumbled, his hands shaking as he held the paper, accidentally tearing part of the left page.
"What is it?" a soldier who was sitting near him asked.
"Fuck!" Havoc yelled this time, tossing the newspaper on the floor impetuously. "Fuck! If that idiot had stayed, we could fight together, and shit like this wouldn't happen!"
"Who you're talkin' about?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Found someone you know in the obituary?"
"Yeah…" Havoc moaned, lighting another cigarette.
The small black letters were still imprinted on his mind, mocking him. He could see the newspaper page clearly as he had it in front of his eyes right now. He grabbed the paper from the floor again slowly, determined to check if his mind hadn't played a trick on him. However, he knew what he had read. He sank back on the crate he had been sitting, despair creeping up on him.
Vato Falman
The name of his comrade was there, printed in the same ink as all the other names. He was just one more in the statistics. His rank wasn't even written in the obituary. Havoc closed the paper and put it aside, resting his head on his left hand.
"First Fuery, now Falman. Damn it, Mustang… You should have stayed, you coward."
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November 20th, 1917
It was hard to believe that more than six months had now passed, since Roy and Riza had left the country, but the situation in Amestris hadn't changed much. Roy had spotted Victor Masheck, the informant, on the street another time, but the man didn't stop to talk to him. Being kept in the dark but knowing that he was an important part of the plan was driving Roy insane already. The Brigadier General was now waiting for the train to come so he could go have dinner with Riza and the rest of Victoria`s staff. Despite the heavy rain, Roy looked around, hoping to see Masheck again. He wanted new information desperately. Anything that could get him out of that factory would be great, Roy thought, shivering because of the cold weather.
"I can't believe you came here in this rain!" Riza said when she opened the door and found Roy, completely soaked and coughing like mad.
Roy tried to talk, but only managed to say a couple of words before he coughed loudly again. Riza decided that the talk could wait and rushed him to the bathroom so he could take a warm bath. She went upstairs to finish cleaning the carpet and met Hope, who was already taking care of it.
"It's all right, I can finish this. Thank you," Riza told the chubby woman.
"Oh no, dear. Go spend some time with your husband. I got this," she said, not willing to stop what she was doing.
"He's taking a bath now."
"Why don't you join him?" Hope said like it was the most obvious thing to do.
Riza suppressed a frustrated sigh. Hope was always trying to get them together. She was discreet at first, but when she thought her approach wasn't working, Hope abandoned discretion completely. About two weeks ago even Roy had noticed Hope's exaggerated concern, and he was now trying to avoid her in order to escape any too embarrassing situations. Pretending to be married had been easy at the camp, but in Victoria`s house, it was becoming a challenge.
"He's tired," Riza told Hope.
"Then go cheer him up…" Hope replied with devilment in her eyes, before she laughed a bit.
Roy got out of the bathroom, enjoying the sensation of being both clean and dry. He tried to listen for anyone in the dark corridor, but luckily Hope wasn't there. She had been all smirks and jokes lately, and that was starting to annoy him. He was happy that he could get away from her for a while, but he didn't expect Harold to have joined the game. The old man greeted him in the hall and dragged him back into the corridor, where they could talk without anyone eavesdropping.
"Is everything all right between you and Riza?" the gardener asked, sounding honestly concerned about their relationship.
"Not you too, Harold," Roy complained.
After such a long time they couldn't tell them that they weren't really married, especially because it would ruin their disguise. Roy tried to be patient, wondering if coughing loudly again could save him from the awkward conversation.
"I mean… You get along fine and all, but I don't see much affection between the two of you. Maybe you need some more time alone?"
"No, we're fine. Don't worry."
"Because if you let your relationship go cold after only two years…"
"Seriously Harold…"
"If you don't have the hots for each other anymore, maybe all you need is a little change, be creative… you know."
"We have all the hots we need. We are doing just fine."
Roy walked away from the man, ignoring a last question, one that was even more intrusive than the others. He walked into the kitchen to greet Riza and noticed that Nancy wasn't there. Nancy wasn't in the kitchen, although there was food cooking in the stove? That had to be a conspiracy.
"Did you see that Harold joined the crusade?" Roy asked his Lieutenant in a slightly sarcastic tone.
"And Nancy too, apparently," Riza added.
"Hope must have tied her up somewhere."
They both stepped away from each other and changed the topic for something more ordinary when Nancy came back, followed by Hope. Hope went to the laundry room, but they knew she was paying attention to their conversation. Roy leaned against the wall, thinking. He watched Riza wash the dishes as he considered a new idea that had occurred to him and the possible consequences of it. Maybe he should wait for Hope or Harold to come, otherwise there would be no point in doing it. He looked at Hope through the open door and saw she was busy with the dirty clothes.
Roy caught himself hoping that the woman would come soon. Damn it, what was taking her so long? When Hope finally walked back into the kitchen, Roy walked towards an unsuspecting Riza and hugged her from behind tenderly. Riza stopped what she was doing and looked back at him, surprised. Roy stayed like that for a second, now feeling lost. He hadn't planned the next move, and she was now staring at him, her face about an inch away from his, as asking what the hell he was doing. He could give her a kiss on the cheek, he thought. She shouldn't be angry because of a kiss on the cheek. However, before he had the time to do anything, Roy felt his throat itching and let go of Riza to cough.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying to catch his breath before he had another violent burst of cough.
"Let me get you some hot tea," Riza offered after a few seconds watching him struggle to stop coughing and hacking.
Suddenly her mind had become a little slow. The way Roy had hugged her was unexpected, but apart from the initial shock, the warmth of his body and his arms around her waist didn't feel weird like they should. Riza poured some hot tea in a cup and sat down across from him, still thinking about the gentle touch of his hands and his face just beside hers. Roy drank the tea and took a deep breath, relieved that he had finally managed to stop coughing. He could have had a cough attack when Harold was cornering him before, but no! He had to have it when he was hugging Riza. It had taken him years to finally make a move on her and…
Roy shook his head a bit, trying to focus. He hadn't made a move. He had just played his part as the husband, trying to get Hope and Harold to stop bothering them about romance. He had to do something, after all. Or maybe he just wanted to do something?
"Who am I kidding?" he thought, taking another sip of tea.
He was really trying to fool himself.
"You know, Doctor Gummer is coming tonight to give Lorraine a check-up. We could ask him to examine you," Hope suggested.
"I can't afford a private physician," Roy replied, placing the empty cup on the table.
"Nah, he wouldn't charge you just to have a look at you," Harold said, popping into the kitchen.
"Let him examine you," Riza said too, and Roy agreed, although he suspected that the doctor wouldn't be able to do much for him.
It was probably all the dust in the factory that had caused that. Most of the people who worked with him also coughed all the time, though some of them had mentioned that Roy had started to have problems too soon.
Doctor Gummer had been taking care of the family for years. His white hair and wrinkled face wouldn't let him lie about his age, but he was satisfied with his health. He was still pretty spry for his age, and he always boasted about his perfect eyesight and hearing. He examined Lorraine and was very happy to say that she was doing fine. He offered to check on Aidan's scratched knees from a fall days before, and when Victoria asked if he could examine her employee's husband, the man smiled right away. He loved coming to the Wilkinson house. Those visits always gave him the opportunity to ask Victoria about the novels she wrote and maybe even borrow a few books.
"Okay, breathe in slowly."
Roy did as he was told, while the doctor held a stethoscope against his back. Riza was the only one there with them in the fancy front hall, sitting on the couch, legs crossed, looking in another direction.
"Breathe out now. Slowly. Again, please."
The doctor hung the stethoscope around his neck and proceeded with the rest of physical examination, asking questions.
"Where do you work?"
"At the steel mill."
"How long have you been working there?"
"About half a year."
"Did you work in factories before that?"
"No."
"Huh," Gummer mumbled, writing something down on his notebook. "It looks like you have what we call occupational lung disease. It's very common amongst factory workers."
"Is it bad?" Riza asked this time, taking part in the conversation for the first time.
"It's not that severe yet, but you developed it a bit too fast, Mr. Hawkeye."
Gummer stared at his notes, holding the pen like he wanted to write something, but wasn't sure what. He finally put the notebook down and turned to the patient again.
"It's just that I'd expect this bad cough and noisy breathing from someone who's worked in factories for years, not just six months."
"And what is causing this?" Riza asked again worriedly.
"There's a lot of particulate matter in the air in these factories. You could use a piece of cloth to cover your face if you wanted, but these particles are so small that it wouldn't help much."
"I wouldn't be able to breathe if I covered my nose," Roy added in a hoarse voice.
"Have you ever… worked with anything that involved mineral processing? Maybe in a mine? Maybe with fire? Burning of wood or in anywhere with a lot of dust?"
"Fire," Roy answered in dismay, as he now remembered how the explosions he caused with his flame alchemy used to raise a lot of dust in the air during the Ishbal war.
He used to cough a lot at that time, especially after breathing the smoke from his own attacks. Back then he wasn't worried. He was a young and healthy soldier who could control fire to protect his comrades from the enemy, and he had a brilliant career in the army ahead of him.
"I see. That would explain why you developed this respiratory problem so quickly. I'm afraid you'll have to find another job."
"I've tried," Roy answered in a low voice, hoping that he would be able to finish without hacking again. "I've tried to convince my boss to put me to work in some other part of the factory, but he said he couldn't. I skipped work to try to find a job somewhere else, but I didn't get anything. Besides, who would want to hire a man with a bad cough like mine? People look at me like I have tuberculosis or some other contagious disease," Roy confessed at once, avoiding Riza's surprised look.
He hadn't told her any of that, but he was so damn tired he just wanted to get it all off his chest. Although he had indeed spent a few days looking for another job, he hadn`t been successful.
"Well, you do have a bigger chance of having tuberculosis with that inflammation. If it becomes chronic, there won't be much to do about it. It can get very bad."
"Can we do anything about it now?" Riza asked Dr. Gummer, as Roy just nodded in agreement and didn't say another word.
"An antibiotic, an anti-inflammatory and some rest. Ideally, I'd ask you not to work with anything that involved dust. I want you to stay away from that factory for at least two weeks."
"Two weeks?"
"And I understand that you sleep there? The air in the whole factory is filled with particulate matter. I'll talk to Mrs. Wilkinson, and I'm sure she won't mind letting you stay for a couple of weeks. Let me just write you a prescription for your medication."
Gummer got his prescription pad, wrote down everything with amazing speed, and went upstairs to talk to Victoria. Roy put on his shirt again, thinking that if he stayed in the house for two weeks, Hope and Harold would drive both him and Riza completely crazy. However, he didn't seem to have much choice in the matter.
A/N: Hello everyone! I`m kind in a shock today so I`ll appreciate some reviews as consolation, LOL! I asked my boss to reduce my working hours this semester because I need to study and she gave me more hours instead. Basically, I`m screwed. I`ll keep posting somehow, so don`t worry. Thanks a lot to everybody who`s reading, reviewing, favoriting and alerting! See you next Friday!
