So, I'm basing a lot of this chapter on my personal experiences with staying in the hospital after operations under general anaesthetic after I went through two and a half hours of jaw surgery myself last year, and especially what it was like to wake up afterwards and what the painkillers that I was given felt like and how they were administered. Also, I am using both the names, ages and physical characteristics of Roy's parents that I've done in another of my stories, because I have a clear mental picture of those characters that just feels odd if I were to reinvent them to look completely different.
And so please leave a review, but, as always, no flames as they can be rather discouraging.
I hope you'll all enjoy the chapter!
Chapter forty-six
"You've messed up that arm of yours pretty thoroughly, you know," Riza said softly. She would have taken his right hand in hers if it hadn't been for the cannula for his IV. He was still partially out of it, she could tell, though she could see from his look that he was also terrified of falling asleep. Terrified of falling asleep, and in obvious amounts of pain. And so he was too terrified to ask for something that would make him drowsier than what was already in his system did.
Roy tiredly looked down at that, making him look far too much like a cute toddler as he took in the sling.
The sling, and the way that Riza had draped her blouse over his exposed arm due to the way that the green hospital shirts were of the sleeveless kind. Which in turn left her in her singlet and with the necklace that he had given her upon their engagement per Nan's wishes very visible.
She felt another giggle escape her, and then Roy reached out and squeezed her right knee gently, looking almost pleading, but not like she had done anything wrong. Her look softened and she reached out to cup his left cheek instead. "I've got a suggestion for you, Roy... I get the doctors to give you sufficient pain relief, and then I just sit down next to you and hug your good arm so that you can nod off as much as you need, and then I can be right there to wake you up at any signs of nightmares?"
Roy looked at her and nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Thank you... N'I'm sorry about this, didn't mean to scare you."
"Well, someone had put a tracker on your car, though we don't have the identity of the one who did it."
He frowned at her at the news. "It's too sloppy for our killer, we need to find him before he gets killed for overdoing the attack... He wasn't supposed to put my life at risk like this."
"We've already got Falman to recite your case records and see if there are any recent events concerning any relatives or similar of people that you have arrested, or the criminals themselves."
Roy just nodded again. "Good... That sounds good."
Riza nodded at him in turn, seeing his brain work both fast and slow at the same time. Like he had a bunch of thought processes that were going on, but that then died before they could even reach his tongue, but he couldn't really be bothered to try to remember them. "They're keeping you here for the weekend, and you're allowed to come back to the office on Monday. But you're also not allowed to do any legwork for three weeks before you might be permitted to do so, all depending on how well you're recovering. My grandfather says that it is more or less against his better judgement to not just give you some sick leave, but you also almost got killed for playing bait for the perpetrators of an ongoing investigation. Meaning that he's found a loophole consisting of how the killer appears to be toying with you, and removing you from the case can potentially be putting more lives at risk, which is what our colleagues are being told. That means that we won't necessarily be raising too much suspicion as we're pointing out the fact that the first three murders have all happened during some form of social event in your life, the third one being that they discovered how we were out of town and found it to overlap with the engagement. And so all in all, you'll be keeping the boys company in the office and help Ed out in the bathroom with your remaining arm." They were both relieved in a sick way that this wouldn't have anything to do with Roy having met Uncle Giddy again because Grumman had spoken in code. So all that he had done had been to ask an old friend to make Riza feel at home and help ease her into working in the Eastern Area, meaning that it had been about her and not Roy.
There was another nod from Roy and he squeezed her knee a bit more as in an equivalent to cupping her cheek. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for it to end this badly..." he said quietly.
Riza sighed with a small and fond smile, though she had a lump growing in her stomach. "Roy, you're pretty adorable like this... Like a bit of a toddler... Gracia Hughes is coming here, though, she's a nurse too, so we can trust her to relieve Nan of her 24/7 nursing duties, especially at nighttime... It was Hughes's suggestion."
"Sounds good.2 He looked at her with guilt and sadness. "I'm really sorry... I misjudged it, didn't think they'd send someone after me with a pair of small grenades..."
The lump in her stomach grew at the look that came to his eyes at that. They carried that unmistakable fear of dying. And, more specifically, of the fear after realising that one was afraid of dying on someone else.
And Riza was more than aware of the fear of Roy dying and leaving her alone with the boys. She was happy. She was happy with her life with this man and their kids, and the thought of suddenly having Roy yanked right away from her, just after Will...
It would be devastating.
It suddenly became clear to her just how much her life revolved around and depended on Roy Mustang, and not just as in him being her fiancé. He was her work partner and boss, and just losing what would undoubtedly be the best partnership she'd ever have...
She shook her head. "It's not your fault, Roy... I'm just glad you're doing as well as you are..."
He actually pouted. 2I'm not gonna get to hug you properly for months... I only got one week of hugging you, and now I'm gonna have to wait for a long, long time... Sucks."
Riza snorted slightly and gently began running her fingers through his hair with her right hand. "Did you know that my first impression of you was that I needed a shower? I'd say that things have changed rather rapidly... Maybe it's a form of revenge? You know, you made me feel dishevelled and in need of a shower, and now I will be the one who will be in control of when you need one?"
Roy actually giggled three times at that, meaning that Riza had succeeded in her mission of cheering him up. 2Ooh, Great Crossbreed of a Goddess and an Angel, please grant me cleanliness by the means of the Devine Sponge!"
Riza paused for half a second, letting his words sink in.
And then burst into giggles at the same time as he did, not failing to see the grimace of pain that followed it. And so she instead decided to lean forwards and place her lips on his.
He didn't really seem to mind.
Jean swore as he spotted the multitudes of cameras when he returned from his trip to buy himself some chewing gum. He was on his tenth for today because they kept losing their flavour so quickly, and possible baby or not, there was no way that he'd be smoking around Mustang and Ed.
Because Nan had so kindly pointed out that smoking also delays bone healing and could even cause complications.
And so Jean had cut them out completely the second he had been assigned as a bodyguard for Ed and Al, and Nan had presented him with some new research.
Said new research had told him about the delayed bone healing, which was why she had given him the magazine in the first place. She may be retired, but the old deaf lady still subscribed to numerous medical periodicals.
Which explained partially where the Boss's intellectual curiosity came from, because it was obviously hereditary.
...And had then been nurtured by their law-abiding, star pupil DCI's illegal immigrant teacher who had once handcuffed him to a bed.
That part still had Jean somewhere between amused, surprised, and also a bit unnerved even.
Though the latter probably had to do with how much different things would have been today if the Boss hadn't been so lucky about his social circle. The thought of possibly even needing to arrest Roy Mustang?
Laughable and weird.
And so Jean was now seriously noticing that he wasn't in the mood for journalists who had obviously recognised him as working under Mustang.
And in the meantime, Falman was most likely very content where he was upstairs in the hotel room, looking after Troy Patton, seeing as how a very nervous Georgina Eunice Mustang was in the process of making a post-operative cake for one of them to bring her grandson at the hospital.
...Well, cake was a bit of an understatement, more like a banquet in a basket.
And so Jean had been promised a couple of chocolate chip biscuits for when he returned to the hotel. Nan, Damien and their mystery girl were in a room the floor above Troy Patton's, and so Damien would pop down from time to time with more food.
Everyone were pretty nervous at the moment, because it was obvious that explosions were a weak spot with Nan.
...Though Jean had never known about the scars before yesterday, and the thought of them still left him with a small lump in his stomach.
And so things were weird and stressful, but the Boss was at least done with the operation, which had been highly successful.
"DC Havoc! Is it true that DCI Mustang was targeted directly?" came a journalist to his right.
"Is it true that he is dying?"
"What are the extent of his injuries?"
"Is he going to be in the hospital for long?"
"Is he in a coma?"
"Will he be making a full recovery?"
"Are you here to keep his grandmother safe from the same attacker?"
"Did Detective Chief Inspector Mustang and Detective Sergeant Hawkeye go out of town for their own safety"'
"Do you believe that this has to do with the impromptu proposal?"
"Have you caught the one behind the attack?"
"Were there multiple attackers?"
"Why is Mrs Mustang not in the hospital to see her grandson?"
Jean cursed inwardly, his temper a little shorter than normal as he spoke up sharply. "My boss isn't dying or in a coma. He's suffered multiple injuries to his left arm and he woke up from the surgery a little while ago. There aren't any head trauma or amputations involved and the operation was one hundred per cent successful and he's gonna be fine," he explained as he made his way through the horde of pests. "That's all I have to say, so save the rest for the press conference later today."
"What do you mean by 'multiple injuries', sir?"
"Has he sustained any permanent injuries?"
"Are there other injuries?"
"How much time will he need to recover?"
"Do you believe that the attacker will try to target him again?"
"I have already said all that I'm gonna say, so you'll have to do the rest of the question during the press conference. Now get out of my way because I need a trip to the toilet, and I bet that there are many people who would find it interesting to read about how the reporters from their favourite newspaper will go so far as to obstruct a policeman from taking a leak, just because they are incapable of waiting less than five hours for a lot more information than what I can give them."
The crowd thankfully parted at that, some of them blushing and apologising and some of them even thanking him for his time.
He was definitely going to tell that one in the office. There weren't many who had made the journalists and cameramen blush.
...Damn, I want a smoke.
"Hey, boys, there you are," Roy told them just a bit tiredly from where he sat in his bed. He was seated like that because of how it was best for his arm to be more in a sitting than a lying position, and it would be so for a long time into the future.
Although Roy was still very happy with one thing, because they had found a solution when it came to stronger pain relievers, but without needing any additional observation from the medical personnel.
Meaning that Roy now had a tiny needle outside the scars in his right upper arm with a small tube that had been curled up and fastened with a see-through plaster.
Riza had looked at him almost with pity for having suggested that it was an 'NIV line', the 'N' standing 'non-' so that it became 'non-intravenous' instead.
But the main thing right now was that he was looking at the boys and at Maes as Roy had been wheeled out of the recovery room by one of the nurses and into an adjoining room five minutes ago. And so he was waiting for a porter to bring him to his room, which would apparently still take a little while. The reason was that they ought to have him in a room by himself, preferably one with a bathroom included. But there were only two rooms of his ward that fitted those criteria, both of which were currently occupied. However, one of those occupants were being released today and was going to be picked up by their family in an hour and a half, and Roy had told the staff that there was no rush and that he'd rather not make someone leave without them wanting to when he'd be in a bed either way. And so Riza was sitting by his hip again, and his suitcase was at his feet.
...And he was back to wearing his regular boxers again after having been escorted by Riza inside the recovery room lavatory to change into a fresh pair.
There was still something very awkward and degrading about the knowledge of the catheter that had apparently been inserted and then removed before he had woken up, but that couldn't be helped and it was better than the alternative.
Plus, Roy wasn't exactly much different in his profession when it came to squeamishness over seeing other people's naked bodies, only that these people were even more desensitised to it than himself.
Though there was one serious issue with all of this that he had already discussed with Riza, but it still left him just as disappointed.
He couldn't hug people.
Not really.
He had just got himself three people in his life that he wanted to hug, and now it would be months before he could do so as much as he needed and wanted to.
It was odd how he missed those three people who were right there.
Then he saw Maes's frown and looked up at him. "What's wrong?"
"Havoc told the press that you weren't dying and that your arm had sustained multiple injuries and that no amputations or head trauma had been involved and that the surgery was a hundred per cent successful, but now there's a large group of journalists and cameramen in the reception area that want to talk to you to make sure that the rest of you is fine. And, of course, have an in-depth interview about your private life. Plus, there were a couple of kids who came running at the sound of the explosions, and that never goes well when eight-year-olds think that they can get free ice cream from telling the journalists about what they had seen, and those came up to the journalists about ten minutes after Havoc's explanation. When they were at the scene and Havoc wasn't..."
Roy groaned inwardly. "So what are the rumours that are spreading between the reporters and journalists?" It was never a good idea when kids assessed damages from afar or just in general, considering how a little blood was a lot of blood, and that had been an attack that could easily have been misread.
"Apparently the firemen cutting you loose became cause for an argument between the two brothers that saw it about what had actually happened... And so that only escalated your injuries even further..."
Roy groaned aloud this time. "So how dying am I?"
"First of all, your head was resting against a red patch of the scarf, so your skull was obviously cracked open."
"Wonderful."
"I know... Furthermore, your entire upper body was covered in blood because that was what your black suit jacket ended up looking like."
"This just keeps getting better and better."
"Your arm was also cut off by the firemen because it was crushed by the concrete and they couldn't get you loose otherwise."
"Wow, amazing how I'm not comatose."
"Very much so, Roy... Also, both your legs are broken and all your teeth had to be pulled out because one of them recognised the laughing gas after a visit to their dentist... But that in turn became an argument of its own, so now you're unable to breathe without an oxygen mask."
"And so Havoc may or may not have been lying about my condition just to put the public more at ease while my injuries are actually life-threatening, and doctor-patient confidentiality means that no one have made a statement..." He rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. "I guess we'll take a detour to the reception area and let them have a picture of me on my feet without Riza and the boys. Just to confirm that I'm not dying and that Havoc's words were completely correct. I'll tell them the true extent of my injuries and that I have nothing further to add and would like to be spending the rest of my time here in peace and that I want them to respect that."
Hughes only frowned even more, before nodding. "Should hopefully serve to keep the journalists away and be a bit more at ease about it all... So I suggest that we get a shirt on your good arm so that you can keep your scars covered up. Although you're using a wheelchair, you're drugged and have just been through surgery, and we're waiting for at least another hour so that you can get a bit more done with the general anaesthetic."
Roy nodded and sighed, groaning inwardly. He hated how he couldn't have the boys be too affectionate with him when they could ruin everything with Yoki as a result.
And he probably wouldn't be much mistaken in thinking that Ed and Al were feeling guilty about it.
"When the porter comes and tells you where my room is, you three just walk ahead of me."
They nodded, Ed halfway glaring at him.
"I'm sorry about this."
Ed grunted while Al's eyes turned just a bit shinier than before.
Roy just sighed again.
Then an idea seemed to strike Ed. "You're basically politely telling them, 'I'm fine, now piss off.'"
Roy chuckled lightly, which caused his arm to protest, and he stopped, though he still smiled at Ed. "Probably a good argument for not giving me too strong painkillers, now that you've put that idea in my head."
Ed gave him a very weak smile, before he raised his arm slightly. "Suppose I'm sympathising..." Then he frowned and nodded towards Roy's own arm. "Though you're like ten times worse."
Roy was feeling just a bit awkward for once as he noticed just how many journalists and cameramen there were outside the reception area as he was wheeled around the reception desk. Then he decided to get out of the wheelchair to actually have his picture taken without it. And so he walked a bit slowly as he made his way outside the main front doors so that he was suddenly standing only about ten metres away from them.
And it was almost funny how much he was catching them off guard as they had undoubtedly been waiting to try to get some words out of his colleagues or family, rather than Roy himself and a PC by the name of Charlie that Grumman had handpicked himself as being trustworthy. Another two of his colleagues were already busy with holding the throng back.
"Do not take any pictures when there are people in the background who may not want to be featured in any newspaper photos," Roy said sternly as he approached them to the multitudes of flashing lights from the cameras, seeing as how there were see-through windows inside the hospital entrance. He was thinking a bit slower than usual and his arm was still hurting, but he felt fine other than that, especially after they had given him something for his queasiness.
The cameras stopped flashing immediately.
Roy sighed heavily. "I would just like to make it clear that this is because there are apparently several rumours spreading about how I'm dying and have either lost or am about to lose my arm, which I am clearly not, and the only purpose of the wheelchair was that I have been through just over three hours of surgery and have strong pain relievers in my system and walking here wasn't recommended due to those facts... As for what happened, I was thrown into the art installation in the park after an unidentified attacker threw two small grenades, one of which caused damage to the concrete cube before I was thrown against the part that featured East City's longest scarf. I therefore have no other injuries beyond those to my arm, besides a few bruises." He paused for a second to grab everyone's attention. "As for my arm, I have a humeral shaft fracture and an ulna fracture, both of which were displaced and have now been stabilised with titanium pins and screws, as well as a dislocated shoulder and the injuries caused by a steel rebar that went through my upper arm. I will be making a full recovery during the course of the next few months... That is all I have to say on the matter and I ask that you all vacate the premises as your presence can be seen as both upsetting and worrying for the other patients and staff." Roy was met by a fair few flashes from the cameras and briefly looked over his shoulder and saw that Charlie had made it so that nobody were behind him other than willing receptionists from behind their desks. The cameramen and journalists obviously saw it as an all-clear to grill Roy for a bit of additional information.
"DCI Mustang! Are you drawing any emotional parallels between the attack today and the Train Station Bombing seventeen years ago?" came a black-haired woman in her mid-twenties, and Roy swore inwardly at her small and vindictive smirk.
Because it was obvious that Holly Bristol had been promoted from a local newspaper in New Optain to a bigger one for the largest city in the Eastern Area. And she had never really taken to Roy after their first meeting on his first day of year four, and especially not after he had made instant friends with the one who had called her a "stupid cow" and had embarrassed her in front of all of her classmates.
...And she was one of the people who had seen him during those first months after his return to school, meaning that he was about to find himself with all of his past being dug up for a good article.
Which in turn meant that he might get ridiculed instead, considering how the logo on her chest was that of the most gossip-spreading newspaper of the lot that wasn't classified as a tabloid, namely Eastern Gazette.
And now that the question had been raised, there was no doubt in his mind that there were a lot of people who would be more than happy to keep digging, seeing as how there were about seven journalists looking at him expectantly together with their cameramen as they made up similar questions of their own. All because it could mean improved sales and scandals about how Roy wasn't suited for his job.
"I suggest that you do not make ill-thought through articles based on such matters, considering how there were hundreds who lost loved ones that day and focusing on it in such a way will most likely be seen as both offensive and upsetting for many as it could easily make it seem that their loss was worth less than mine." He thought for about two seconds. "But, yes, I suppose I can be said to be drawing an emotional parallel between the two explosions, seeing as how the events of that day were what inspired me to become a policeman in the first place. And so, if anything, I would say that I see this as a motivator, rather than a distraction, albeit it as a bit of a pain in the, well, arm." His comment earned a round of light chuckles from the journalists and cameramen who weren't from Eastern Gazette.
He figured that that should be the best statement for him to be giving them if they were to start dwelling on how suitable he truly was for his job, rather than make them think that his lack of an answer would be a confirmation of how emotionally impaired this was making him.
Roy was of course immediately bombarded by questions even so, and he held up his uninjured hand in that 'stop' way. "I will not be answering any further questions and I want you all to vacate the premises for the duration of my stay here."
He swore inwardly as he turned around and headed for where he had come from, seriously hoping that he hadn't done something stupid in his medicated state through his reply to Holly Bristol.
Either way, he ought to alert Grumman before the press conference.
Roy looked up as there came a couple of knocks on his door after about twenty minutes since he had been brought to his room, and he felt his stomach clench slightly. He had already sent Riza and the boys out to get some dinner at the cafeteria on the third floor and had said that he'd be joining them once he was done speaking with Doc Samuels. He had already talked with his family about Roy's preferred surgeon when it came to his fears and childish instincts. They had been nice and understanding about it, even if the boys had paled slightly and Riza had had an unmistakable sadness in her eyes at the confession, and she had obviously been able to tell that Roy had left something out.
And they had also been understanding about it when Roy had asked that he got to speak with the Doc alone when the man came by at around half past five.
The fact that nobody had asked for the two girls yet made them all a bit uneasy, and their current theory now revolved around the girls having been home alone and that somebody would come round and ask about them within the next few days.
Roy's attacker had yet to be found too, and it made them nervous that there might be someone out there who was slowly dying because of how they had almost killed Roy by having abused their orders or similar.
Doc Samuels peeked inside the room five seconds later, and there was some sadness in his eyes as he saw Roy in the black and slightly worn armchair. The man was in his late fifties, his grey hair thinning on the top of his head, giving him a semi-thick belt of sorts that spanned the back of his head from ear-to-ear with a thinning arch of hair on the top of his head. But his dark brown eyes revealed that his mind was as sharp as ever behind the half-moon spectacles. He was just under six feet tall and had gentle features that the kids instantly took to. His voice was kind and pleasant and he was a very likeable man in general.
Though the older man still sighed with a hint of sadness upon meeting him. It wasn't an impatient or condescending or exasperated sigh, but it was obvious that he found Roy's request for him to perform the surgery to be sad. "The nurse said that you wanted to speak with me, Roy?"
Roy nodded with a heavy sigh of his own and gestured towards the other chair that was facing his own with the coffee table between them. "Please have a seat, Doc, there are a few things I'd like to talk to you about."
The older man sat down in the chair as directed and looked at Roy questioningly, and Roy spoke up. "First of all, thank you for indulging me like you did today without protesting it." It was a bit odd to think about the fact that the man before him had just a few hours previously slashed him open with a scalpel and had then put metal in his arm. Roy looked down at the bulge under his hospital shirt. "And for just fixing me up in general."
The older man sighed once more with a shake of his head. 'That's my job, just like you have yours, though I would rather they don't overlap like this in the near future."
Roy chuckled slightly and then winced at the pain that it resulted in. "I can agree with you on that, oddly enough... I'd like to say that you did a good job, but it's a bit hard to tell at the moment, though Mum and Dad always thought very highly of you." Roy had yet to tell Riza and the boys about the fact that both of his parents had used to work here. Mum had been a physiotherapist and Dad a neurosurgeon, and so they had had a lot to do with each other and had had this golden opportunity to discuss patients a lot more in-depth to get the best sort of treatment for the patients that they shared. And Mum had in turn worked together with Doc Samuels a few times concerning some of his patients. Dad and Doc Samuels had been friends since medical school and the three of them would have lunch together when their timetables had allowed for it.
"Considering how your grandmother appears to be staying at the hotel and not coming here, we used that old connection as an excuse instead to save your pride in front of my other colleagues... Maes Hughes told them how I'm the one who performed the surgeries after the explosions and that I am an old friend of your father's and so your scars don't make you feel uncomfortable. And there's of course me who doesn't mind it really because I'm obviously worried about the son of those old friends and we can thereby catch up some to make you even more at ease during your stay here... Plus, you were in many ways lucky about another argument from Maes, namely that I also performed the surgery when Edward lost his arm, so I also know those kids and it makes them worry less."
Roy smiled slightly with another nod, though his stomach was clenching. "Thanks, Doc..."
"If you don't mind me saying so, I'd like to suggest that you speak with a psychologist before my retirement in a few years. I'm getting old and I'm not going to be so stubborn that I'll let my mind trick me into believing that I'm just as fit to perform surgery as I was when I first started working here... You can't depend on me to be there like I was today. You're a young man who pisses criminals off for a living, I'm almost sixty, and you're afraid of doctors."
Roy bit his lip, feeling that familiar lump forming in his stomach. "I'm not afraid of them, per se... They just tend to be sad at my medical records and be patronising as a result and make me feel like I'm made of glass. So it's more like they're afraid of me because of my profession and they don't want to give an important member of the force any sort of unsatisfactory treatment. And when they treat me like I'm made of glass and try to be the 'perfect' sort of medical personnel, I don't feel at ease. They're supposed to look after me, but they're afraid to do so, and that's not exactly comforting. Plus they're awkward about my scars to boot. They're basically afraid to be professional in case they'll hurt my feelings... They don't see me as a patient and they don't see me as a person and they're gonna jab me with a needle."
"Why do you think I said yes to fixing your arm today? I know full well how that works... I'm suggesting that you see a psychologist because if you see that your scars aren't a problem, then they're going to be a bit more at ease themselves... They're not something evil or dangerous..."
"They're a constant reminder of how much Mum and Dad loved me, and what most see instead is a reason for pity and condolences... Most people are therefore basically telling me that they're sorry that I'm not dead, and doctors and nurses even more so than others." He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him at that moment as an idea struck him. "Your colleagues are basically making me out to be a zombie, no wonder they're uncomfortable." Then he sighed good-naturedly, smiling sadly to himself as he looked down at his hidden arm. "And don't worry, I'm in the middle of adopting a pair of boys and have the perfect psychologist readily available as a result... He's a child psychologist and deals with particularly tricky and complicated cases that are often connected with police investigations... He probably won't mind."
"Well, that last part sounds excellent."
"Yeah, I know."
The older man sighed again, and Roy looked back up. "Judging from your words, though, you have yet to actually speak with me about the main reason for asking for me to come here in the first place."
"Can you make up some sort of reasoning for me to have a couple of extra beds brought in here so that Riza and the boys can stay here with me for the duration of my stay here?"
Doc Samuels frowned slightly, obviously reading him correctly. "This is because of nightmares, isn't it?"
"I've got a strong feeling that I won't actually have too much of a good night's rest without my fiancée here, and the boys are the same about her. Ed and Al can share and there should be just about enough amount of space in here for it to work."
The frown only deepened as the man thought. "Well, Ms Hawkeye is your work partner and suited for guarding you and won't be making the other patients on this ward as nervous. And when you're both staying here, then it wouldn't be particularly nice of us to force the two young boys that you're adopting to not be with you, especially when Edward has broken his remaining arm and needs assistance... But I suggest that you speak with that psychologist about those nightmares of yours as well..."
Roy smiled slightly with a nod, his stomach clenching. "Thanks, Doc, and I will."
He received a small nod of recognition. "Was that all you wanted to speak to me about?"
Roy sighed, cursing inwardly at what he had basically done to his own psyche by asking for Doc Samuels. It hadn't been a good idea, and yet he felt a slight stab of fear at the thought of someone else. "Mhm."
"In that case, Molly came by after hearing that you'd been injured..." the older man said, reaching inside his white coat and pulling out an envelope. "She wanted me to give this to you, I suppose you could call it your origin story... It's a letter I received from your father twenty-eight years ago, so it was before I started working here. I sometimes used to wave it in front of him threateningly to make him buy me lunch or face the ridicule of having let himself get pushed about so much by a twenty-year-old university student, and then be so smitten that he'd even eagerly send me a letter that could later become his doom. When he died, you were only eight and there are passages in there that weren't befitting an eight-year-old, even if far from directly vulgar, so I decided against giving it to you. And for some reason, it felt more like I'd be taunting your grandparents by giving it to them right after they had lost their children in such a way. And I was trying to figure out whether or not I felt like it would be to break his trust if I were to do so. Plus, it was addressed to me and I would thereby be sharing information about myself too... After a couple of months, I decided to throw it away and rather keep the picture of the three of us at your parents' wedding on the shelf in my home office... It turned out that Molly had disagreed with my decision and had kept it in her treasure box in order for me to give it to you when you found yourself the woman that you'd be marrying."
Roy froze, just looking at the envelope. Mum and Dad hadn't told him much about how they had met, and Roy had in hindsight figured that it had had to do with the way that he had been seven when they had told him the basics and that there was a ten-year age difference between them that would have caused some awkwardness when trying to make it suitable for someone so young. After all, there would obviously have been some awkwardness about a thirty-year-old soon-to-be neurosurgeon who had met a twenty-year-old university student. And explaining the awkwardness to someone who shouldn't necessarily learn the reasons behind said awkwardness at age seven would have been hard.
Doc Samuels stood up and pulled the contents out of the envelope and placed them on the coffee table. "I'll be leaving now, the neurological department's open only for visitors to their own patients until seven, though I think they'll make an exception for you... And you're free to share the contents of that letter with whomever you like."
Roy smiled and nodded, his stomach clenching both with curiosity and grief. "Thanks, Doc."
"I'll be seeing you again around noon tomorrow, so just take care of yourself until then and don't mess with that arm even further. I'll talk with the nurses about the beds," he said, walking towards the door, before pausing and turning towards Roy. "That's true, I really ought to congratulate you on your engagement."
Roy chuckled slightly, but then paused and clenched his right hand against the pain. "Thanks, Doc, and say hi to Molly from me."
"Will do. I hope you'll find that letter an enjoyable read."
"I've got a feeling I will."
He received a small sound of recognition and a nod of goodbye, and then the door was closed behind the old man. Roy picked up the letter, feeling his stomach clench violently again at the sight of Dad's handwriting.
July 5, 1882
Hello again, old chap, it's been a couple of months now, but I just have to let you know that I have actually done what you've told me to for the past few years...
...Sort of, at least.
Because I've got myself a girlfriend now, albeit in a bit of an unusual manner, and not by the means that you've told me to. How was it you'd phrased it? 'Why on earth aren't you out and about by now? Being a good doctor is one thing, but you need to find yourself someone to shut that book for you and send you to bed so that you're well-rested to actually stay good at your job... Go to a bar and clink some glasses or have a friend recommend a friend's friend, that sort of deal. You're tall and good-looking, use it.'
Well, the joke's on you!
(Even though I suppose I was using those particular physical qualities to actually be right here, though not in a conscious way, so I'd say that I'm still very much entitled to tell you that you are indeed wrong.)
I don't know if you've heard about the medical conference that's been going on here in East City for the past fortnight, but that's where I met her, so I was very much doing exactly what you told me not to, hence me believing that I came out victorious in our argument.
You see, I was just standing there in the considerable crowd, when a stranger suddenly grabbed my hand and kissed my cheek and smiled brightly up at me as if she'd known me on a much more personal level, rather than not at all. 'There you are, honey!' she exclaimed brightly.
'Excuse me?' I asked her, taken aback enough not to make much of a scene of it. She was quite stunning, and very much still is, of course.
...Although she's a fair few years younger than me, which left me quite alarmed at that particular moment, looking down at her, because she didn't look like she'd kissed the cheek of the wrong person at all. In fact, she only squeezed my hand tighter and leant into my side.
And then made me a bit wiser as to what was going on as she whispered quickly to me, 'Please play along, there's been about twenty-six creeps who have been ogling my rear for the past half hour alone, and that bloke two metres to my eight o'clock is obviously a bit too interested in a bar and a hotel, if you catch my drift. I'd rather not have him follow me everywhere to make me change my mind or engage me in conversation, because I'm actually enjoying this place without him. And I spotted you yesterday while you were reading the same book as me and you seem like the type who can make him go "eep" with just half a glare at most. And so I would rather have you do that than for me to make a scene where I seem paranoid and the men from security start walking over because of the commotion and he's going to go all "Did you see me do anything to her? Huh?! She's just making things up!" So would you please, please, please glare at him for me so that I can get watch him go white as a sheet with intimidation, rather than have all my fun here taken away because I'm either being mentally undressed and/or made a pass on, unless I tell him off and become some sort of odd and potentially paranoid girl and don't get taken seriously and start being shunned?'
I, of course, paused at that as I tried to find our just how much it would affect my time there at the conference. However, I could very much understand her dilemma, so I needed to make sure that she understood just what she was asking of me. 'You are aware that this would require me to keep up this act for the rest of the conference, or your situation is going to end up even worse because of how you're now obviously both lonely and confirmed single? And how long are you staying here?' I therefore asked her.
She just smiled hopefully and shyly at me, and that was when I realised that underneath the childish hopefulness, there was a startlingly bright woman who had instantly planned it out from before she had even grabbed my hand. I have to admit that that is probably the most intriguing moment of my life so far. And I could see it in her eyes that she had understood what I had seen there, and her smile became just a bit brighter. 'For the entirety of the conference, I wanna catch all the lectures, intellectual curiosity and all that... So what do you say? A tiny, tiny intimidating glare and I'll pay for your lunch for the rest of the conference?'
'You want me to pretend to be your sweetheart for the next twelve days, as well as the rest of today, in other words?'
I suppose I was already a bit smitten by that point, but there was something highly intriguing and amusing, if a bit daunting, about the thought of it.
She just smiled at me, a glint in her eye that told me that she was thinking the same thing. 'Please, please, please, pretty please?'
And so I found myself snorting, placing my arm around her shoulders, seeing her eyes light up with glee. I turned round and found the man that was obviously my target, judging by his expression of slightly nervous disappointment. Then I figured that I might as well do it properly, and so I leant down slightly and muttered to her, 'Is it the one in the red T-shirt that's bothering you?'
'Yes.'
And so I straightened up again, and indeed gave him my best "piss off"-glare.
Oddly enough, the man got my message.
'That was superb!' the still stranger exclaimed, grinning as she looked back up at me. 'Oh, that's true, it's Augusta Pembroke, and you?'
'Richard Mustang.'
'Richie, then. You may decide whether you prefer Augusta or Augie,' she replied almost instantly.
'I think it's only fair that if you're using Richie, then I'll be calling you Augie, don't you think so?'
'Splendid... So what's your age and current or upcoming profession?' She was amazingly professional about the matter, even if her wording wasn't as much so. And I found myself rather increasingly amused by this strange young woman, understandably enough.
'Thirty, and I'll be a fully qualified neurosurgeon in about three years from now,' I told her, suddenly getting this considerable fear that she was in fact younger than I had thought, and that I had now agreed to enter a fake relationship with a mere teenager.
'Oh, that's quite something!' she exclaimed brightly, obviously impressed. 'First of all, I'm twenty, and I'm afraid that my answer is far more boring and doesn't bring as much money into my account, considering how I'm planning on becoming a physiotherapist. Though it would seem that we might end up working together later on,' she said, smiling, and looking very much like she was looking forward to it.
I was thoroughly relieved that her age was at least as high as it was. Which was why I decided to voice a concern of mine. 'You are aware, though, that I might as well just be an even worse creep than the others, and also physically bigger and can thereby make things even worse?'
She just smiled brightly at me and adjusted the collar of my shirt. 'I saw your eyes yesterday and earlier today as well, and your eyes were focused above the crowd's heads, and so I believed, and correctly so, that you were a nice and honourable fellow.'
I snorted slightly at that, and realised that this might actually be going somewhere new. And so I asked her jokingly, 'Are there anyone else you'd like me to glare at?'
'I've lost count. I did the mistake yesterday with talking to a friend about becoming a physiotherapist, and it only took me thirty seconds before this man came up to me and told me that he would be more than happy to show me some therapeutically physical activities.'
And so the following day, just as we were about to part, she suddenly yanked me down by my collar and, let me tell you, it might have taken me thirty years to get my first kiss, but it was certainly worth the wait.
...There's been quite a few firsts since we met, in fact.
And I'm honestly quite sure that if I were to pop the question this afternoon, she'd say yes in a heartbeat, though I think I'll wait a bit. So we're going to a restaurant in a couple of hours, the dinner on me this time. And I honestly think that I'm the luckiest man in East City, considering all those longing looks she's been receiving. There's a folded photograph inside the envelope, and I think you'll quite agree that she's the most radiant woman in East City. (I'll refrain from insulting your wife by saying 'in the country' as she is obviously to you what Augie is to me.)
And so I wish you two the best, and we really should get together on a double date sometime soon.
Richie
Roy just sat there, stunned, tears going down his cheeks, and understanding full well why this hadn't been a story for Mum and Dad to share with him in full when he had been so young.
He immediately put the letter down and picked up the envelope, spotting the folded up picture inside, and he placed the envelope between his knees and pulled out the photo.
And there they were. Dad was grinning with Mum sitting sideways on his lap, her hands held loosely around his neck for balance, she too beaming at the photographer.
He sat there for about fifteen minutes, rereading the letter and looking at the picture and then wiping away his tears, before he walked over to his suitcase and placed the treasured objects inside the hidden pocket.
He knew where he needed to go next.
Namely the cafeteria, before heading to the neurological department with some chocolate milk and his family.
And so he went, his gait a bit slower than usual as he followed the guiding lines of different colours that eventually brought him to the stairs. From there there was one floor down and a door that thankfully stood open.
He received a fair few looks from people that were passing by as they tried to place who he was, which was what usually came with the way that he had ended up in the papers from time to time.
Then he was inside the cafeteria and he made his way over to the table when he spotted the three people that he was searching for. he found Riza and the boys with their empty plates in front of them, Ed with his orange fizzy drink with a straw, Al with a chocolate milk, Riza with a mug of coffee, and next to her stood another chocolate milk, obviously meant for Roy. He smiled and sat down next to her, seeing a faint hint of relief in their eyes.
"Took you long enough, Old Fart," Ed said, frowning.
"I didn't tell you before now, but Doc Samuels went to med school with Dad and they used to be friends."
"Oh..." Ed paused, looking almost pained by the information.
"I'd like to bring you three with me to the neurological department if you don't mind... Dad used to be a neurosurgeon and Mum a physiotherapist, and there's something there that I'd like to show you."
There was silence between the four of them as they walked, Riza and the boys obviously both curious and wanting to let Roy decide what to say.
Especially as they were all able to tell that Roy was on the verge of tears. It was odd how the mood was somewhat of both a moment of great suspense and a funeral march.
And so they found their way to the neurological department, which was a separate building right beside the main hospital building, so there was a tunnel between them. The reason for the odd setup was simple: the building that was now the neurological department had before been the main hospital, and rather than destroy and/or deface a historical building, they had renovated and modernised the inside and had left the outside the way that it had been before and had built the main and much larger hospital next to it.
Roy hadn't actually been here for a long time. Thirteen years, in fact. He had sort of avoided it ever since he had first seen the statues, simply because the neurological department also constituted a lot of fear and pain and anger and grief. And even if what they were going to go visiting was an extremely heartwarming gesture that he treasured immensely, it also wasn't really his place to be here.
Until now.
Because now he was very soon going to have some extensive physiotherapy on his schedule and would be coming here regularly.
And so he walked through the double doors and was immediately faced with the main reception desk of the building, finding that they had done another round of modernisation to it since the last time.
The receptionist was sitting there, filling out a form, the middle-aged blonde with horn-rimmed glasses and an uninspired black sweater, speaking as if by default, not looking up at them. "Just wait a couple of seconds, please."
Roy smiled to himself, being sort of childish about it all as he focused on that rather than the emotional and physical pain and looked about. He took in the slightly depressing light grey floor, white walls and ceiling, and then the attempt at bringing some life into the place by having red doors almost succeeding, except for the way that the shade was just a tad bit too dark for it to look anything but welcoming in only a hospital-standard way.
Ed was frowning, Riza was looking a bit reluctantly expectant, and so was Al, the young boy slightly pale, which Roy guessed was caused by him sort of realising just how much pain and time there would be involved in Roy's life for the next few months.
"There, now what may I help y-," the receptionist said, before looking up, eyes widening considerably, the woman paling a bit.
"I was wondering if the statues were still in the physiotherapy department, and if it would be all right for us to go down there?"
The woman nodded slightly. "Down the stairs, through the corridor to the left, and then through the double doors on the right, opposite the elevator, the door should still be open, the final physiotherapy sessions end at seven, sir."
Roy smiled and nodded. "Thank you."
"Of course... You really look a lot like your father, that's for sure."
Roy smirked a little. "I suppose I'll be having some fun playing temporary ghost, then, to cheer me up for my arm... I'll be coming back here soon enough."
The woman smiled slightly at that. "I wish you a speedy recovery, then."
"Thanks," Roy told her with a small smile and turned around to face the others.
"There's a statue of your father?"
"Both my parents, actually. It's life-size too... Now let's get going."
And so they went downstairs, walking in the direction that they had been pointed towards. They soon found themselves in the doorway of a room that immediately changed from the sterile hospital design to the red bricks on the walls, black tiles on the floor, and the distinct scent of chlorine from the therapy pool that was visible from the furthest corner of the room behind the glass door and panes for mainly the staff to use. To Roy's right was a short corridor that ended with the door to the women's wardrobes and showers and from there the main entrance to the pool, and the men's equivalent was down the left of that same corridor. To their left was the large door to the staff room, right in front of them were the double doors to the training room, to the right of it was a large single door that went to the offices, and along the wall that jutted out between the wardrobe corridor and the therapy pool were the two handicap toilets that had their entrances from the sides of the wall, while the wall itself had two coffee tables with two chairs in between them, making it a couple of six chairs. To the left corner were the double doors that led to the handicap parking lot, and between them and the staff room was a large window that showed the parking lot.
And in front of that large pane, stood the two black rock statues of Roy's parents; Dad behind Mum with his hands on her shoulders and a warm smile on his face, his doctor's coat on, his staff trousers and even his clogs completing the picture. Mum was right in front of him, smiling equally warmly, though with a slightly playful glint in her eyes, she wearing her physiotherapy T-shirt and trousers, her hair in a tight ponytail, her feet covered in her trainers that he remembered having provided the sculptor with for reference. And on the bottom of the statue was a small platform with a brass plate.
Dr Richard Mustang
June 10, 1852 - March 25, 1893
Augusta Ruth Mustang
February 19, 1862 - March 25, 1893
'Keep moving forwards no matter what, as berating the past is a fruitless activity.'
"Did your parents use to say that?" Al asked, bent forwards slightly to read what the plate said as they walked over to the two statues.
Roy felt his stomach clench violently at the thought of coming here as often as he would be and seeing it each time. Probably having fellow patients ask him about it.
He shook his head. "No, that's me having had an epiphany as we talked with the sculptor. They unveiled it on what would have been Mum's thirty-fifth birthday, so I was almost twelve at the time. They would logically have done it on the day that that they'd died as their birthdays were so far apart, but they decided against it, seeing as how their family would have been busy at the gathering at the memorial at the train station instead, plus they felt like they were really digging it in if they were to give me even less of a celebration on my birthday. So they asked me when, and I thought about it and decided on Mum's birthday because I knew that they would both have laughed at it, had I told them my reasoning being 'ladies first'... And so that's what they did, and I haven't actually been here since... Haven't been a patient here, after all, so it didn't really feel right that I went here. 'No, I'm not a patient or a visitor, I'm just dropping by to be slightly unnerving as I stare at a statue of my dead parents, so don't mind me,' doesn't really work, you know?..." He sighed heavily. "But those words are mine, and they're based on my personal experiences in this place, so they found it a very fitting phrase."
"Bloody hell... That had better be you, Roy!" came a slightly threatening voice from the corridor that they had come from.
Roy turned around together with the others, smiling slightly, recognising the bald man with the thick, blonde eyebrows and a white physiotherapist uniform that showed that the man was a strong one, though not uncomfortably so. He was a couple of inches taller than Roy, was in his late forties, and just a bit pale. "Don't worry... It's Geoffrey, right?"
"Yeah, though call me Geoff... You gave me quite a fright, there, been reading this horror novel in the cafeteria, instinctively thought you might've been a ghost..." He looked between the statues and Roy, and a slightly teasing glint reached his green eyes. "A slightly short ghost, though... Like a mini-Richie... It's been about eleven inches since I last saw you..." He walked over and pointed towards Roy's arm, frowning. "Now what have you done to your arm?"
"Injured it, and enough so to be referred here in a short while."
"How injured is 'injured'?" He was frowning even deeper. "Because I firmly remember telling you to not do something like that..." He spotted Ed and the way that his arm too was broken and in a visible cast, though obviously concluding that the missing arm was from before because of how Ed wasn't wearing any hospital clothes. His expression softened slightly. "Did you two get into an accident?"
Ed answered before Roy could. "No, I accidentally fell off the couch a couple of weeks ago, the Old Fart got himself attacked with grenades and messed his arm up today."
Geoff's considerable eyebrows rose quickly, and he looked back at Roy, a bit of pain in his eyes. He had been the physiotherapist that had been involved with Roy's rehabilitation after the explosion, and the man had seen Roy at some of his most scared and grief-stricken moments. "So exactly what's happened to your arm, Roy?"
And so Roy told him, getting a deeper frown and a slight sympathetic grimace. "And I repeat: bloody hell..." Then Geoff smiled slightly as he looked at the rest of Roy's quarry. "Pardon my manners and language, I'm Geoff Keystone, I used to work together with Roy's mother and was the one who was in charge of his rehabilitation programme seventeen years ago... Now, who might you be?"
It was two minutes later that Geoff was chortling at Roy. "You're their son, all right, though I always thought you'd end up as a physician like your parents, especially when you told me you'd finished year seven two years early last time I saw you... Haven't read a single newspaper since I heard from a colleague that you'd entered the Police Academy. Left the reading to Lou, she's keeping me updated on what I need to know, and kindly leaves out any police business so that I won't have to read about how you're possibly going to get yourself shot. Hear no evil, see no evil, read no evil, and I can start the workday by nodding at your parents and telling them that you're not dead today either."
Roy was about to reply, but then Geoff's eyes focused on Roy's visible hand, and he frowned. "You should go back to bed and get something for the pain, you're doing that 'no, I'm good'-thing of yours again, while you're not really doing fine, hence the way that you're kneading the second knuckles of your fingers with your thumb. So you listen to your elders now and pop off to bed."
Ed walked over and kicked Roy in the shin. "You idiot!"
Roy sighed as he put down his spoon, now finished with his bowl of cereal. The other three hadn't been entirely impressed with his poker face in combination with his high pain threshold when he had spoken with them about it in between mouthfuls. Riza was sitting by the foot of his bed, the boys on the edge of the nearest bed to his right.
But right now came the part that he had wanted to discuss with them for the past few hours. "I had this odd sort of fear today that I haven't experienced before, you know... I've known of it, but never in such an overwhelming fashion." He sighed heavily again. "Because I found myself terrified of dying, and you three were the first people that sprang to mind at that moment... Because suddenly I had this whole new level of obligation not to die on those that I care about. Nan and Maes both would have understood it had I died in the line of duty, no matter how much it would have hurt, but you three... I just can't leave you... Not now and not in such a way... It's just not possible... And so I am sorry for scaring you three like I did."
He was severely glad that Maes had told Riza on the phone earlier that "Roy's messed up his left arm and he's being prepared for surgery now, but it's only his arm, and he's not at any risk of dying" as the first thing he'd done, rather than having dragged it out by being vague.
At Roy's words, Al came over and kissed his cheek, tears shining in his eyes, and Roy instantly placed his good arm around him and kissed his cheek in turn. Then he just held his hand on the back of Al's head, gently hugging him to his side.
"Please don't die on us, Roy," Al pleaded weakly, tears now obviously going down his cheeks.
Roy just sighed heavily, closing his eyes. "Then please don't die on me either..." He opened his eyes again and looked at Riza and Ed as well, receiving a small nod from Ed and a look from Riza.
"You should go talk with Giddy, you know..." Ed said quietly. "He's the closest thing you've got to a dad and considering what happened today, it's obvious that you need it."
Roy felt his stomach clench violently and then shook his head. "I don't wanna risk it. He's a brilliant man, but if I call him, then he'll instantly be able to tell that I selfishly want him here, and so I can't trust him not to turn up as a hunchbacked, blind, old woman, not after..." He thought back to their conversation the day before and the one fourteen years ago, and knew that there was even more significance in all of this than the other three knew.
The man desperately wanted to be there for Roy after everything that had happened, and if he were to know about the day's events, then not even Roy's words could have stopped him. Because he knew that Roy inwardly wanted him to show up. Craved that he'd show up and awkwardly hug him and kiss his temple as Roy broke down into silent sobs.
"He may be the closest thing that I have to a dad, like you said, Ed, but the problem is that he feels that way too, and there's too much at risk."
"Then we'll call him!" Al suggested, smiling sweetly as he pulled away, eyes shiny with tears. But there was still determination and a stern refusal to back down in his eyes. "By us talking with him, then we can make it clear that you're being looked after and that he really shouldn't come because all he'll do is worry you... Plus, Damien was there that time too, we can point it out that he can do a bit of big brother-ing in Giddy's stead."
Roy was lost for words.
Because there was no way for him to change the boys' minds.
None.
"In that case, boys, there's something we'd like you to talk to him about when you're first doing it," Riza began softly, getting Ed and Al's attention. Roy found that he had an idea about what was coming, but he wasn't sure. He was feeling the effects of the 'NIV'-pain reliever, and was mostly occupying his mind with working furiously not to say anything that could give away the fact that they'd been to Resembool.
"What's that?" the boys asked in unison.
"Roy and I have been discussing it, and we also spoke with the ones who performed the surgery and engineered Giddy's leg, and if you want to, Ed, then we've got the money and an offer for paying for it in instalment for if you'd like to get automail."
The two boys froze at the news. Then Ed looked down at his stump for about five seconds, and then back up at them.
Then his eyes became just a bit shinier than before and he swallowed slightly with a small nod. "I-I'd like to talk to him about that first, yeah," he said weakly. 'Thanks.' His voice was barely more than a whisper, and then he looked down. "Can we find an empty office with a phone now?" There was a lot of shakiness to his words, and it was obvious that he was fighting a losing battle.
And so Riza walked over and hugged him while Roy in turn hugged Al.
They all had things to talk about, it seemed, and Roy was mentally bracing himself for showing Riza the letter.
The thought of it and Uncle Giddy and being alone with Riza and awkward hugging of their kids brought one thing to mind.
And so Roy did one of most inappropriate things he had ever done in his life.
Because he began giggling, earning three confused and almost hurt pairs of eyes.
"Painkillers and private jokes, don't mind me... Sorry..." he got himself to tell them, trying to stop his inappropriate giggling and halfway failing every time he looked at Riza.
"I think we'll go ask for a private office, we'll tell them that you're speaking with your psychologist, if that's okay?" she offered gently.
Al nodded instantly. "That sounds like a good idea."
And with that, Al gave Roy's cheek another kiss and left with Ed and Riza, Roy managing to wish them good luck and to say 'hi' from him, as well as apologising as he snorted.
Tears began running down his cheeks as soon as the door closed behind them, and he found himself trying valiantly not to fall asleep or break down into sobs.
Then he began giggling madly again as Riza returned, the hilarity of the thought only intensifying as he was left alone with her and she moved his tray to the table next to his bed. She sat down by his hip and looked at him fondly and cupped his cheek. "What's going on, Roy?"
He giggled a bit more at that. "I had one hell of a send-off for my upper body's physical condition last night."
Riza paused, a faint redness to her cheeks, but then she looked at him with a sort of fond pity. "You poor thing, you've really had a long day haven't you?"
Roy nodded slightly, only a bit disappointed in her lack of a giggle. "Can you kiss it better?"
He vaguely remembered Mum kissing his newly plastered grazed knee back when he had been seven, and before he knew what he was doing, he began sobbing instead. The pain from his arm only increased with the movement from where it rested in its sling, which didn't help one bit. He suddenly found himself with Riza standing up and gently bringing his right arm around her waist and pressing his face to her stomach, and he began sobbing into it instead. "I-I just want hugs... Real hugs... I needed them then and I need them now and I can't have them..." He grabbed the back of her blouse in his hand. "I just want hugs now that I have so many people who want them and need them and I can't! I can't get them for months! I don't wanna be here at the hospital, Riza! I wanna be home and I want my hugs and I want Nan and Uncle Giddy and it's just not possible! And I'm mentally fit for work when I'm not drugged like this, but I just... I just want real hugs, instead of this..." His voice became a weak mumble against her stomach, her blouse already soaked through. "I just want my damned hugs, honey."
CallMeWaffle: Thank you so much, I'm so glad you liked it! And I can assure you that I had some very amusing mental pictures myself about the laughing gas XD I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well :)
the-kermit-kid: I hope this chapter was less confusing, and, yes, Will certainly deserves a kick in the shins XD Thanks for the review! :)
redmike: I'm really glad to hear that you enjoyed it, and I hope you will continue doing so :)