A/N: I am most ashamed of myself. I am very sorry for the wait. No really, I put this up almost a year ago... I am particulary appologetic towards Nikki. It's been hard getting back into the groove, but here's chapter two. I'll have you know that I wrote this beast at least three times before. Each version lostsomewhere in the space-time continuum of my computer's database. I think I accidentally deleted one at one point.Whether or not it's any good, that's for you to decide. It was a pretty quick fix that may be revisited at a later date. i just felt way too friggin guilty... Again, thanks for hanging in forever. I bet you all thought this beast was dead... Don't you hate that? An author's note that is half the length of the chapter? How shameful indeed...


The thick liquid had settled down inside of him leaving a drowsy sickening feeling. Roy finished the last of his milk as he walked into the tavern he called home. He had been renting out the loft from a kindly Ishbalan family. He paid a simple rent and they all left each other alone. There was never more contact than necessary.

Roy hobbled up the stairs and looked out across the open floor-plan of his current home. Up against one wall was a large metal tub that stood up on clawed feet with a calcium encrusted showerhead looming down on it. A heavy yellow curtain blocked it off from the rest of the room. It had once been white, but like everything else, it had succumbed to age. A toilet sat nearby, separated from the tub with a rusty sink. It was all "blocked off" from the rest of the room with a makeshift wall. Across from all that was a bed. A bed that hadn't been made in ages. At the head of the bed, against the wall was a large armoire. Roy didn't need all the space it offered, but it was a gift from someone special. The old mirror that was mounted on it was coated with an irremovable layer of filth. A throw rug adorned the floor in the middle of the room. At the far side of the room from the stairs was a window, beneath which, Roy had set up a desk. Upon the desk sat a lamp and a radio. At the desk was a simple wooden chair. At the top of the stairs was the kitchen. A rusted out refrigerator stood beside a rusted out sink and a cast-iron stove sat off to the side. Roy sighed as the weight of the boy on his shoulders came back to him.

He started out with lying the child on his bed. Roy stepped back a moment to figure out what exactly he should be doing. As Roy watched the boy's unconscious form, a tiny black speck crawled from the child's hair. Roy bent in a bit closer as a few more of the creatures evacuated the boy's hair. Roy looked in a bit closer.

"Lice," he mumbled.

Roy wrapped his arms around the boy and moved him into the tub. Once he had worked the boy's tattered clothes from his body, Roy started the water and went about searching for a bar of soap. He had neglected to regulate the temperature of the water for soon enough, he heard the boy's voice howling from behind him.

"Is cold!" the boy shouted.

Roy grunted. As he glanced back at the cupboard, a hunk of lye revealed itself to him. He took the hunk and walked back over to the boy who had jumped out of the tub.

"Here," Roy said flatly as he turned up the heat, "Now get back in."

The boy looked at Roy with widened eyes. He reached out timidly and tested the water with his hands.

"Better?" Roy asked.

The boy nodded and got back into the tub.

Roy wet the lye and began scrubbing down the boy's body. He watched in amazement as the layers of dirt left the boy's body looking almost as pale as Roy's. Then the nasty deed came upon Roy to wash the boy's hair. He lathered the tangled mane, feeling little critters scurrying around beneath his fingers. When he realized that his fingers weren't enough to release the tangled strands, Roy retrieved a comb.

"How long has it been since your last bath?" Roy grunted, not expecting an answer.

"Many moons. Soldier-man never let me take baths. He said…" the boy looked down into the murkey water, "things…"

Roy grunted.

"Well, I hope you're not too attached to your hair," Roy went and got a pair of scissors and a straight blade, "Because it has to come off."

"Please no," the boy cried, "I had this hair since my parents died. Don't make it go away…"

Roy sighed, "It's a health issue right now. Bugs are crawling in your scalp."

The boy cringed. He had always known about the bugs, but he was even more ashamed now that an outlander knew about it.

Roy saw the shame in the boy's eyes, "What can you expect? That guy was a real monster…"

Roy realized that his words weren't exactly coming out the way he had wanted them to. The boy's bottom lip quivered.

"Look, I, uh… Lemme just cut your hair. You'll feel better, I promise."

The boy clutched the dirty hair in his hands, "Promise?" he whimpered.

Roy nodded.

Roy felt amazingly powerful as he cut away the discussing mane. At first, Roy was trying to see if he could salvage any of the hair, but it was a lost cause.

He was cutting away the hair from the back of the boy's neck when he spotted something at the base of his scull.

"What the…"

Roy leaned in. His eyes widened, "It can't be…"

"You know," the boy said, "If you put your hands under the water and push up, it looks like gelatin preserve."

The boy giggled.

Roy was silent.

"The water's really dirty. Can I get out now?"

Roy was broken from his trance, "Um, yeah. Just let me get the rest of this hiar off and then you can get out."

"Okay."

"There," Roy said as the last lock of hair fell from the boy's head and onto the wooden floor.

The boy stood up and Roy handed him a towel.

"I'm hungry," the boy moaned quietly.

Roy walked over the refrigerator. No milk. Roy sighed and laughed to himself. He had gone out for milk and came home with some fool's sin.