Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Title: After School Special
Pairing: RoyxEd overall, with mentions of MaesxRoy, JeanxRoy and a few other surprise mentions
Rating: PG13 (this chapter)
Timeline: Present AU
Summary: Principal Roy Mustang finds himself strangely drawn to the school's newest student, a quiet social outcast with a metal arm and leg...
AN: Last time- Russ gropes, Jean threatens, Ed and Roy FINALLY speak again, and Trisha falls ill ;;

After School Special

Chapter 14

"Bittersweet Symphony"

He sat in the waiting room, resting his elbows on his knees. His blond hair was loose and hung down around him, curtaining his face, veiling his crying eyes.

Inoperable…

Someone sat down next to him. A soothing hand began to rub his back.

… brain…

He didn't care. He didn't care about anything at the moment.

… tumor…

Except for the fact that his mother was dying.

Roy had to be up for work in an hour.

Problem was, he was up now, pacing by the phone and willing it to ring.

He didn't think anything had happened to Ed.

But that didn't mean that anything hadn't happened at all.

"Edward," he said softly, unaware that he had even spoken aloud.

Ed looked up. Checking the clock on the wall, he realized that he had been sitting there for the past hour and a half, with no word from anyone.

He glanced over at Al, who was sitting across from him, sleeping fitfully in a chair. He felt a wave of fierce protective love wash over him, causing him to feel guilty for stewing in his own thoughts. Al needed him now; the last thing he should be doing was drowning in his own sorrow. He had taken on the mantle of big brother; he needed start acting like one. Especially now…

But first, there was something he desperately needed to do.

"Russ," he said, wiping his face and turning his head to look at the young man sitting next to him. "I need to use your phone, please."

Finally.

It wasn't a number he recognized, but who else would be calling him at this hour?

With his heart in his throat, Roy answered the phone before the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Roy?"

Gratitude and relief at the sound of his voice rendered him weak-kneed. He sat down on the couch before speaking again. "Yeah?"

"I can't talk long… I'm at the hospital-"

"What happened?" Roy fearfully demanded.

"My… my mother…. She's sick."

"Is it bad?"

"Um… yeah. Yeah, it is." The desolation in Ed's voice made Roy's heart ache.

"I just didn't want you to worry about me," the teen continued. "I'll call you as soon as I can."

"I'll be right here," Roy promised.

Though their connection was not the clearest, Roy distinctly heard a small whimper fall from the boy's lips. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand over his face.

"Roy?"

"Yeah?" His voice was choked; he didn't think he would be able to speak much longer without breaking down.

"…um… I just want you to know that… I… I really… "

"… I really miss you," Ed finished.

Not that it wasn't true; Ed missed Roy insanely. The sound of his voice alone was enough to make him sad and hard at the same time. But it wasn't exactly what he meant to say… and the contemplative pause on the other end of the line told Ed that Roy knew that as well.

"I miss you too, Edward," Roy said softly.

They each remained silent, only the sound of the other's breathing between them. Ed could have stayed there forever, listening to the sound, but-

"… I have to go," he said, regrettably.

"I know."

"I'll call you when I can."

"Alright…. Goodnight, Edward."

"'Night," Ed said.

He waited until the older man hung up some seconds later and closed the cell phone.

Looking out at the emergency room parking lot, amidst the cars and rescue vehicles, Ed had a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to run away from all of this, back to Roy, and try in whatever way humanly possible to forget the past two weeks had ever happened.

Instead, he pushed away the randomly selfish thought and eased back into the hospital through the emergency room entrance to rejoin his family.

He came upon Hohenheim and Russ in the waiting area; Al was nowhere to be seen.

"She's alert. More than alert; she already wants to come home. But they're admitting her for the night until more tests can be done tomorrow since she has never seized like that before," Hohenheim informed him. "Your brother is in with her right now."

Ed handed Russ his phone, all the while fixing his birth father with a cool glare.

"Russ, could you give us a minute?"

Russ glanced between the two of them, and, having already had a taste of Ed's anger that night, wisely obeyed.

"Sure. I'm going to go ahead and take off anyway. I'll check back in tomorrow, okay? Goodnight Mr. Elric."

"Goodnight, Russel."

Russ beat a hasty retreat, leaving the father and son, who were more alike than they would ever know, to a face off.

"You wish to say something to me?" Hohenheim sat down in a nearby chair and stared up at his son with his own much older, much wiser amber eyes.

"You're goddamn right I do," Ed said quietly. "I can almost understand if the two of you wanted to keep this a secret from me; I'm practically a stranger to you. But how could you not tell Al something like this?"

"It was your mother's wish for Alphonse not to know," Hohenheim stated.

"Why?" Ed asked, crossing his arms indignantly.

"Because she didn't want to see him lose his… light. At least not any sooner than he had to."

Ed frowned. It wasn't that Ed didn't understand; he did. The boy really was a beacon. He himself had decided to uproot his entire life just to be close to him, after all. But still…

"And as for you," Hohenheim continued. "She didn't want you to know because she wanted you to forgive her of your own free will and not because she was sick."

Hohenheim sighed sadly. "So, son, if you still feel justified in your anger, by all means, wallow in it. But I must ask that you direct it at me and not your mother. I will gladly bear the brunt of your hatred; but as for my wife, she has suffered enough."

"… Ed?"

Ed turned to see Al standing behind him, looking like the world's largest, scared little boy.

"Mom wants to see you," he said.

"Okay." Ed walked over to him and stared up into his face. His eyes were red from crying, making Ed hurt all over even more. If there was any way he could have taken Al's sadness into himself, then he would have; anything to rid the boy of his heartbreak.

Anything at all.

He patted his brother on the shoulder and walked away quickly, before Al could see the tears in his own eyes.

He made his way to the entrance of his mother's room and stood there for a moment, gathering his thoughts and ignoring the curious glances of the night staff around him.

She didn't want you to know because she wanted you to forgive her of your own free will…

Ed opened the door and entered the room.

It would be the last conversation they would ever have.

"I'm sorry I kept you guys up so late."

She was still beautiful, sitting up in the bed and wearing a most unflattering hospital gown. She smiled warmly at him and beckoned him over.

"You hardly did it on purpose," Ed said, taking a seat in a chair by the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she said with a defeated smile. "And how about you?"

Ed shrugged. "I'm okay," he said.

Her constant smile faded into a serious, sorrowful expression.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you," she started. "I just didn't want you to-"

"I know. I know why you didn't tell us. I understand."

She smiled gratefully and changed the subject.

"Did you call your guy?"

He couldn't help but smile at her query. "I did."

"And?"

"And… I don't know yet. But I think, maybe, we're going to try and make it work."

Trisha beamed. "I'm glad to hear that."

They sat in contented silence for a moment.

"That man who came to the house-" she started.

"My gym teacher," Ed said bluntly.

Trisha cocked her head to the side as if she didn't hear him correctly. "Your… gym teacher?"

Ed nodded.

"Your… boyfriend… is also a … teacher?" She asked.

Ed bit his lip. "He's not a teacher."

Trisha watched him quietly with inquisitive eyes, hearing the emphasis on the word and waiting for clarification.

Ed sighed. There really was no easy way around it.

"He's… well, he was… my… principal."

He saw her eyes widen slightly before looking away.

"Oh…. Well…," she started slowly. "As I told you earlier, you must… you must really mean a lot to him that he was willing to risk his career to be with you…. What's his name?"

"Roy."

"Roy," she mused. "I would have liked to…," she paused and moaned, rethinking her words.

"Make sure he takes good care of you," she said instead. "And you take care of him as well."

Unaware that he was even crying until he felt tears fall down his cheeks, Ed leaned forward and rested his head on her lap, his face turned toward her feet. He gasped in fits, choking back his sobs as much as possible, and hating the unfairness of it all. Was this all some sort of grand master plan fate had to make him forgive her sooner? Well, if so, he decided to never forgive her at all.

That way, she would have to live until he did… right?

He closed his eyes as she began running her fingers through his hair.

"This might sound quite silly," she said quietly. "But I've had an urge to brush your hair all the time you've been here."

"Then I'll bring you a brush tomorrow," he muttered into her thigh.

He felt her chuckle and pat him on the head. "Deal. But for now, go home and sleep."

Ed sat up. "I want to stay," he said stubbornly, wiping his eyes.

"You all want to stay." Trisha shook her head. "Your father is going to take you both home so you can sleep in your own beds. With any luck, I'll check out of here tomorrow as soon as the doctors poke and prod me just a little bit more."

"But-"

"No buts, Edward." Ed concluded that particular response must have been a staple in Trisha's maternal vocabulary, having heard it twice over the last twelve hours.

"Fine," he relented.

Trisha grinned. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. And don't forget that brush," she said with a smile.

Ed stood up and slowly walked over to the door. He turned back to look at his mother, still smiling… always smiling.

He didn't know how much time they had left together. But looking into her face, he was determined to make the most of it.

It was at that moment when he realized that it was no longer an issue of forgiving her… but simply telling her that he already had.

But not tonight. It was already late and she did look a bit tired.

Tomorrow. As early as possible, he would be back tomorrow. With a brush.

"Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Trisha said.

Trisha leaned back against her pillow and cried.

He hadn't said the words.

But she felt it all the same.

It was all that she had wanted since the day she gave him away.

Her deceptively frail body, which had clung to life much longer than it had intended, could finally rest.

An hour later, she suffered a massive series of seizures that emergency staff were unable to control and died.

The train sped along the tracks at a constant speed. He did not know where he was going; nothing seemed familiar to him at all.

He was sitting with Al. But this Al was not his Al. This Al was a large, empty suit of armor.

Strange.

He looked out of the window at the passing land.

Up just ahead, he saw her.

She was waving.

He didn't take his eyes off of her as the train approached. She continued waving to him as the train passed. He turned to look back at her where she waved until she was out of sight.

He turned and faced the front again, trying to make sense of it all.

AN: sigh I thought long and hard about how I would write this; it would have been too "neat" to have immediate closure during their last conversation, as much as I wanted to write it that way. Life just doesn't work that way. We all put off the things that we SHOULD do, thinking we can do them another day.

As I said in the preview, this was especially hard to write since my own mother was recently in the hospital. But it's done. And now I'm sad. I think I shall go cry just a little bit.