1925 – Central City
The sun is still shining when Nijah wakes up from her nap, which she takes as a good sign.
The flu has hit the Mustang household like a truck, and Nijah was unfortunately the one in the driver's seat. She's finally over it now, the aching, chilling, puking virus that kept her in bed for a week. But now, Mommy and Shireen are sick, too, quarantined in Mommy and Daddy's room with the servants for help, in the hopes of keeping Daddy and baby Maes from being sidelined by the horrible illness.
Nijah stretches and puts her leg back on before jumping out of bed and padding down the hall. She grimaces as she passes the sick room, hearing the distinct sound of retching through the door. Her stomach is rumbling in hunger for the first time in days, so Nijah's on her way to the kitchen when she hears burbling noises down the hall.
She creeps into to the nursery, and smiles widely at the sight that greets her.
Baby Maes is standing in his crib, jumping up and down. He gurgles happily when he spots Nijah, taking his hands out of his mouth to point at her. Daddy's slumped in the rocking chair by Maes' crib, picture book fallen on his lap. He's snoring loudly, and drool is dripping from his open mouth.
Nijah supposes after attempting to take care of all the sick people in the house until Mommy kicked him out, taking care of baby Maes all by himself this weekend with Nanny on holiday, and running the country has rather tired Daddy out. He deserves a nap.
Nijah's a big girl. She can help.
Quietly, Nijah takes the book out of Daddy's lap and throws an extra blanket over him. Then, she approaches Maes' crib, and unclicks the locks to slide the side down.
"Ya-ya!" Maes says happily. "Ya-ya, Ya-ya, up!"
"Hush, Maesy," Nijah whispers, finger to her lip, "Don't wake, Daddy."
"Da?" Maes asks, looking over to the rocking chair. "Nigh-nigh, Da?"
Nijah nods. "Yeah, Daddy went night-night. C'mon, now, up!" Nijah says, then stifles her groan as she hefts Maes from the crib. He's getting heavy.
But Nijah manages, settling Maes on her hip and exiting to the hall, shutting the door quietly behind her. Luckily for her, once in the hallway, Maes begins kicking and squirming; he wants to be let down.
Nijah sets her brother down, then grabs his hand before he can toddle away. He's still rather unsteady on his feet, and walks pretty slow, but with his hand in Nijah's he doesn't fall.
The problem arises when they reach the staircase.
Because Maes can't walk down the steps by himself. And Nijah can't walk down the steps with Maes in her arms.
Stumped, Nijah takes a seat on the top step, her hand still firmly in Maes' to keep him from falling. Maes follows suit, kicking his chubby little legs as he sits.
Nijah's still thinking it over when Maes suddenly pushes himself off the top step, scooting down to the next one with a loud giggle.
"Huh," Nijah says, observing her giggle little brother, "Well, that'll work."
So, step by step, Nijah and Maes make their way down the grand staircase of the Fuhrer's manor home, scooting and giggling all the while. Nijah lets go of Maes' hand and lets him scoot for himself once he seems to get the hang of it.
It's a mistake.
They're five steps from the bottom when it happens; Maes launches himself too forcefully from one step to the next, and instead of scooting down one step, he scoots down them all, flying to the first floor and landing hard on his butt.
Maes turns around and looks up at Nijah, his big brown eyes wide with shock. And Nijah knows they're moments away from an explosion, from tears and wails when—
"Maesy, you win!" She shouts, big smile on her face. "You won our race, Maesy, you're so good. So fast! That was great!"
Maes tilts his head, then grins at her widely. Nijah breathes a sigh of relief. Seems Mommy was right about babies waiting for your reaction before they react. Nijah attempts to slow down her pounding heart as she races down the last of the stairs and pulls her little brother into a hug.
"Win?" Maes asks. "Win?"
"Yep, Maes, you win. You got first place in our race!"
"Win!" Maes yelps, "Win! Win win win win-,"
Nijah has a feeling she'll regret teaching him that word.
000
1927—Central City
"There you are, Nijah, you should be all set." The doctor says, strapping the last buckle and giving her real knee a pat, "You're certainly sprouting like a weed, growing so big and strong! You must be drinking your milk," Dr. Marcus says with a wink.
Nijah gives the doctor half a smile, and grabs both his hand and Mom's and they help her hesitantly off the table and on to the new leg.
"Feel alright, sweetheart?" Mom asks. For Mom knows Nijah's past struggles of chafing and blisters, of locked mechanical joints and broken buckles and straps. She knows what a pain these new legs can be for Nijah.
"Yeah, yeah it's good," Nijah replies, taking a few limping steps before finding her stride. The legs are always the same for the most part, besides the length. Sometimes the doctor attempts to change-up the shape or the straps for ease of use, but at heart they're all very similar. No matter what, it's always a bit of an adjustment for Nijah, going from a long-used and worn-in prosthetic to a shiny new one the taller she gets.
"Bye, Dr. Marcus," Nijah calls as she and Mom walk out the door.
Nijah promptly trips on the doorjamb. Mom catches her before she can fall.
As usual, the new leg is going to be fun.
000
One of the worst parts about getting a new leg, or really just not having the leg at all, is how much everyone always babies her.
Always questioning how far she can walk, asking if she's alright. Opening doors, and pulling out chairs, holding her hand when she really doesn't need it. Shireen was terrible, in the beginning when she first lost her leg, hovering and smothering and not really letting her move. She's gotten slightly better over the years. But just slightly.
Mom's always encouraging and working with her to get stronger and faster, but even she has her moments, offering a wheelchair after long days if her leg hurts, snaking unnecessary arms around her shoulders and waist if she thinks Nijah's flagging.
Dad's absolutely the worst. She's now ten years old, but he still won't hesitate to just scoop her up in his arms after seeing her trip just once, hardly even listening to her protests.
"Daddy put me down! I didn't even fall!"
"You almost did. C'mon, it's not like anyone's watching."
"I am ten years old. This is getting ridiculous."
"Well, you hardly weigh anything. You should eat more, Nijah."
And that is that.
000
"We're home!" Mom calls out as they enter the house, Nijah trailing behind her, stepping carefully over the threshold of the house.
"We're in the kitchen!" Dad calls back, and Nijah and Mom make their way to the kitchen to find Daddy and Maes at the table drawing pictures.
"Lookit, lookit!" Maes cries, lifting up his paper from the table, "Lookit, I drew us!" he says, proudly showing off his crude drawing of a boxy house and five stick figures of varying heights, with a small black blob at their feet and a big brown blob right beside them.
"It's beautiful, Maes," Mom says with a smile, "We'll pin it up on the board."
Maes beams.
"Cook says it's so good, we should put it in a museum."
"But then we wouldn't get to see it every day, Maesy, and that would be so sad," Nijah says with a grin, stepping forward to get a closer look at the drawing. "Did you add-,"
Then, of course, Nijah trips.
She falls to the ground spectacularly, banging her chin on the wooden floor of the kitchen with a loud thunk.
Mom and Dad are on her in an instant.
"Oh sweetheart, are you alright—,"
"Are the braces too tight-,"
"Do we need to go back, we can go back-,"
"I'm fine." Nijah says firmly, from where she now finds herself settled on Dad's lap. "I'm very, very fine." And she pushes herself off Dad's lap. He reaches out a hand, grabbing for her arm, but Nijah shakes him off.
"I'm just gonna go lay down in my room for a while." Nijah sighs, heading for the door.
"Do you need help with the stairs?"
"No!"
000
An hour later, Nijah wakes from her doze to a knock on the door.
"I'm fine," Nijah calls out, turning away from the door. "I don't want to talk about it, my leg's fine."
"Nijah?" a young voice asks from the door. She turns over and sees Maes approaching.
"Hi Maes. What's up?" Nijah asks, patting the bed beside her as she sits up. Maes take the proffered seat, jumping up on little legs.
"Will you go outside and race with me? To the big tree and back like last time?"
Nijah trips in the middle of their race.
Maes comes back for her after he wins, and asks if she wants to race again.
000
1928—Central City
"Can I have a pony?" Maes asks at dinner one night.
Dad chokes on his food. Shireen pounds him on his back through her laughter.
"Kiddo, we already have a pony. Why do we need another one? You can just ride Daisy."
Maes frowns. "But Daisy is Nijah's pony. I want my own pony."
Nijah works hard to stifle her laughter once she notices Mom's rather serious expression.
"Maes, lots of families don't even have one pony. You shouldn't be greedy."
Maes looks down, chastised. "I'm sorry, Mommy. I just thought—well, don't you think Daisy gets lonely, in the barn out back by herself? And I just love racing Nijah so much, and I thought racin' her on a horsie could be fun. And, well, it would be fairer, too."
Nijah can't help it. She audibly awwws.
000
Maes names his pony Rocky.
"Oh my God, Daddy Mustang, this is ridiculous, it's terribly obvious who your favorite children are. I feel so discriminated against, where the hell is my pony?"
"Shireen, you don't even like horses. You won't go in the barn because of the smell."
"That is completely irrelevant."
000
1933—Resembool
Nijah wakes to the ringing of the telephone.
"Ugh, who could be calling now?" Nina says with a groan, rolling out of bed and padding toward the door once the lights start flicking on in the hallway. Their bedroom is too far away from the phone to hear whatever's being discussed once the ringing stops.
"Let me know what's goin' on," Nijah mumbles as Nina leaves the room, stuffing her head into the pillow when Nina forgets to shut the door, letting the newly turned on light in.
And Nijah waits. She waits, and waits, and waits for Nina to come back, to shut the door and tell her Alphonse is silly and forgot about the time difference from Xing again.
But when Nina's been gone ten minutes, and Nijah hears the kettle going off in the kitchen, she decides to take action.
Slowly, painfully, Nijah drags herself to the side of the bed and grabs the crutches resting along the wall.
The trip to the kitchen is rough. Nijah has to stop many times, her breath heaving. The stairs are the worst part; for a moment she considers just sitting down and scooting, as she and Maes did when he was little, but nixes the idea. Dragging the new automail port along the stairs is bound to hurt even worse than it already does.
So she crutches along, slowly and carefully, and eventually she pushes open the kitchen door.
All of the Elrics besides Sammy are sitting at the kitchen table, untouched mugs of tea before them.
Nina has her head in her hands; Ben's got an arm around her, his other hand covering his eyes. Aunt Winry is holding a sobbing Trisha in her lap, her own eyes wet with tears.
At Nijah's arrival, Uncle Ed stands up and turns around. Even his face is red and blotchy, cheeks damp.
"Honey, you shouldn't be up," Ed says softly, voice thick, as he guides her to a chair.
"What happened?" Nijah whispers, "Who-," but she can't bear finishing the question.
She thinks about Dad at the train station, just three years ago. About May and Alphonse, so far away in Xing. She thinks about Sissy, up in the cold at Briggs.
Ed crouches before her and puts his hand on her shoulder.
"Nijah, it's—it's Maes."
And she just breaks in half.
000
Nijah doesn't remember much of the trip back to Central. She sleeps a lot. Sometimes Uncle Ed wakes her up, makes her drink water and take her pain pills, feels her forehead for fever and frowns.
Trisha's there, too, sitting beside her cot, holding her hand the whole time.
"We can't give up hope yet, Nijah," Trisha whispers to her vehemently. "He's not—he's not d-dead. There's still hope."
But there's no telephone on the train. Maes could already be dead, and they won't have any idea until they arrive in Central. Nijah doesn't tell Trisha this, though. She just nods and tries to fall back asleep, because every time she opens her eyes she's that much closer to home.
000
They arrive in Central that evening. Mr. Jacobs comes with the car to pick them up at the back entrance of the station.
Maes is still alive, according to the driver. Uncle Ed wheels her over and he and Mr. Jacobs help her into the car.
Nijah's nearly lulled to sleep by the rocking of the car, when she notices the streets they're taking.
"Mr. Jacobs, where are we going?" He glances at her in the rearview mirror.
"Home, Ms. Nijah. That's where your parents want you dropped off. You've had a long journey, and you're still recovering, Ms. Nijah. I'm sure you're very tired-,"
"You turn this car around and take us to the hospital right now." Nijah says fiercely.
"Ms. Nijah-,"
"Mr. Jacobs, I will open this door and hitchhike to the hospital if I must."
Mr. Jacobs takes them to the hospital.
000
Uncle Ed wheels Nijah right up to Maes' door. He makes Trisha stay with one of the MPs in the floor's waiting room.
"Daddy-," Trisha protests desperately.
"Later, Trish, just—just let them be together right now, okay?"
Trisha nods, and Ed finally pushes Nijah into the hospital room.
Mom's on one side of the bed, Maes' hand gripped tightly in both her own and held up to her lips. Dad's on the other side of the bed, his back to them. His shoulders are hunched and his head is bowed.
Her parents look tired. They look defeated.
And Maes, her little tiny Maesy, laying in the bed;
He just looks dead.
Nijah can't hold in her sob.
And then Dad is there, pulling her into a tight hug, running his hands through her hair.
"You were supposed to take her home," Dad says to Ed softly, without heat.
"I had to see him—let me, I need to talk to him," Nijah gasps out before Ed can answer. Dad lets her go, taking over for Ed and pushing her to the bed. Mom looks up from her vigil and meets Nijah's eyes.
"Hi, sweetheart," Mom whispers, reaching across Maes to grab her hand.
Nijah bites back another sob and finally looks down at her little brother. She uses her free hand the grip his, completing the little circle.
"Brother," Nijah says, leaning down to Maes' ear. "Oh, brother, please." Her voice breaks as she begs. "Please, you must wake up. You're not allowed to win this race, Maes. Not this one."
000
1934—Resembool
"You sure you're ready for this, sister dearest?" Maes asks, smirk on his face as he swings his arms in a stretch. It's scary how much Maes resembles Dad when he smirks.
Nijah just grins, shaking out her legs as she jumps up and down like a fiver year old. "Between you and me, brother mine, I've been prepared for a few weeks now."
Maes' mouth drops open in mock horror. "Nijah have you been running on that leg before Aunt Winry said it was alright?"
Nijah rolls her eyes. "Oh, like you weren't out playing with your friends a full month before the doctor said it was okay for your lungs."
Maes blushes a bit, and Nijah pats his head. She has to take advantage while she can; Nijah has a feeling Maes is going to end up tallest of them all, and he won't be quiet about it.
"Are you slowpokes ready yet?" Shireen calls down to them from the top of the hill, the finish line of their latest race. She's gathered up there with Mom and Dad and all the Elrics, even Al and May. There's actual tape for the finish line, spread out between Trisha and Ben. Dad has Maes' camera in his hands, prepared for a photo-finish. Shireen has her gun out and up, ready to shoot to signal the start.
"Just a second!" Nijah shouts back, before turning to Maes. "Maesy, I love you very, very much. But if you try to pull some bogus chivalry card and let me win, I will kill you."
Maes smirks Dad's smirk again. "Nijah, when have I ever let you win? You're going down, sister."
Nijah knows he's telling the truth.
It's why she likes him so much.
"In your dreams, brother."
"ON YOUR MARK!" Shireen shouts from above. "GET SET!"
The gun goes off.
And Maes and Nijah run.
000