Chapter 37: The Truth about Bitter Ends VII

Roy brought flowers to his visit, finding it unfortunate that he didn't know which were Cecilia's favorites. He took the usual route from the hospital entrance to the floor where Cecilia's room was located. The usual guard wasn't posted outside for him to annoy with a greeting and he entered the room unhindered.

He halted. The bed was made. The sun shone in bright from the open window with the drapes shimmering in the breeze. It smelled clean as if it had never before inhabited. He entered further in, leaving the bouquet at the foot of the bed as he turned to search the closet for Cecilia's things, but like the room, it was empty.

"Have you lost your way?"

Roy looked to the doorway to see a nurse. He recognized her as the one that was on shift when he visited and he saw a similar recognition in her expression turn into an awkwardness that alarmed him.

"What happened to the patient in this room? Was she moved?"

"Oh." Her expression fell. "Please wait here."

Roy stood there confused until the nurse returned with a leather-bound journal and a beat-up paperback book that she presented to him.

"She would have wanted you to have this."

"Would?" He took it. His attention hung on every word that left her lips. "Did something happen?"

"I was told there were complications overnight," said the nurse. And he wished she stopped talking. "It was after I finished my shift. She passed away this morning. I'm sorry for your loss."

No.

No.

"Complications?"

"You would be better off asking the doctor for specifics, but she's not coming in today. Please excuse me, I have a few more rounds to make."

No.

The disbelief shook him to his very core. He went straight to an information desk to ask after Cecilia, but the woman behind the desk offered her condolences as well. He tried calling Silas from the public phones, but his secretary answered, informing him that Silas would not be available for some time.

"Where's Cecilia?" He surprised himself when he shouted into the phone.

The man on the other side lowered his voice to a whisper, "I'm sorry, Colonel Mustang."

"I want to see her! Tell him! Is he there?"

In the background, he heard a familiar voice, "Is that him?"

"Yes sir," the assistant replied, before the line was disturbed by a bit of static.

"Mustang," came Silas's voice with a sigh.

"Where is she?" demanded Roy.

"She's gone. Dead this morning."

"I don't believe you."

"Look, you foolish man, I don't care!" shouted Silas. "Cecilia is gone! You'll never see her again! I'll never see her again."

"Where are you hiding her? I'll find her."

"This is useless."

The line went dead. Roy attempted to call three more times, but Silas wasn't answering. He refused to believe it, but there was a brokenness in Silas's voice that couldn't be denied.

Cecilia was dead.

Roy left the hospital dumbfounded and drove to their shared home.

Roy ventured inside as silent as a shadow, the keys barely clinking as he drew them out from his pocket and his footsteps failing to register sound against the floorboards. He sank down into a seat on the couch and stared absently at the mantle. The emotion crept through his blood system and his body grew cold. The ache in his chest had turned into a hole and only after he sat in the living room surrounded by the fading smell of Cecilia's perfume, the throw pillows on the couch around him carried the scent of her shampoo and body wash, a cocktail of fruits, had reality finally sunken its claws.

Sadness tinged in anger. As it suffused him, the emotion stinging in his eyes, the anger flaring in his soul, he kicked the coffee table hard, knocking over the ceramic vase in the center. He heard it roll and crash, breaking to pieces on the other side. He cursed beneath his breath, each time kicking the side of the table in front of him, damning his uselessness, thinking about everything that he hadn't done. Thinking of all the things that he'd never be able to say. It hit him hard to realize that he felt this strongly, though he had suspected it for some time that Cecilia had invaded his body, pervaded his mind, until she reached his heart.

He convinced her to go to that damn party to make connections for himself. She was scared. The whole time she had been scared, but she handled it. She put on a strong act and went out to help him. Silas told him that she was willing to do anything for him simply because he wanted it enough. She loved him that much. He understood now. He couldn't doubt her anymore, knowing exactly who she was and the sort of dangers that chased her. She loved him enough to put herself at risk.

He would never thank her for it. He could never tell her that he wanted her to stay, that he wanted to love her, and that he hoped to create a nation where she would feel safe.

Roy wallowed in the harsh emotions, wiping the tear that rolled down his cheek furiously. He paved the way to her death and he didn't deserve to mourn her, let alone think of her. Thinking those thoughts reminded him of the items the nurse gave him before leaving and he left his seat to retrieve it from his car.

He brought them back into the house. The paperback was a crime story about a detective pursuing the people responsible for the death of his wife. He dropped it on the coffee table's surface. It looked to have been read about a hundred times at least given the brittleness of the cover and the softness of the pages. His focus went to the journal. He undid the leather clasp, opening it up to find a younger girl's messy handwriting. In the upper right part of the page was a date, many years back. If Cecilia had not lied about her age, she would've been ten when she started writing on the unlined paper.

I had that nightmare again.

I can't go to sleep anymore.

Everything is quiet here.

I don't like it.

It reminds me of home.

I hated it there.

Silas just left us here. He said it was to be safe, but I don't feel it.

I'm scared because I wake up and I see him there.

I scream out and I just get told that it's okay.

It isn't.

I'm afraid.

He turned to the next page and found that entry as well as the others that followed were short, each one started with the same sentence in different variations. He skimmed through all of the pages, following the day to day progression of Cecilia's thoughts until they seemed to have come to an abrupt end.

Her last entry was on a wrinkled page filled with Arisha's name, ink smudged in the places where her tears had fallen.

I couldn't save her. I couldn't do anything.

A droplet fell atop the surface of his name, the ink smudging. He sniffled, closing the journal shut to pick up the book.

Why this book? He had never seen Cecilia reading it, yet it appeared worn.

He opened it to the front page and inside it found Cecilia's neat handwriting, reading: I love you, Roy Mustang. He flipped through the first few pages to find the confession repeated in all three hundred and sixty-five pages. In the very final page, she signed her name, her real name: Always, Caitriona Mikhailovna Volkova.

PART I END

xl: This chapter marks the end of the first part of the story. It is safe to say that we are halfway through.

Now, I'm going to be putting this story on hiatus while I organize the second half of the story and start writing it. Hopefully, when I come back, I'll be able to post weekly updates.

Until then, feel free to leave speculations about the future. We are venturing into canon territory. I'll most likely be following the Brotherhood anime, by the way. (And I might have to re-watch it to help with the organization.)

Many thanks to everyone that has read the story up until this point. I hope the second half is much better than the first and that you'll stick around for it.

Thank you for reading.

P.S. Please read the announcement on my profile for a little update on stuff in case you haven't dropped by my wordpress.