It was well over an hour before Roy felt comfortable enough to leave Ed alone, even for just a while. He had fallen into an exhausted sleep, and Roy figured he had some time before the nightmares started.
Once outside the room, he took a moment to compose himself. He leaned back against the wall, feeling weary and exhausted, his chest heavy with a numb sort of horror that wouldn't resolve into anything more tangible until the shock wore off. He felt detached somehow, like he was viewing everything from some distant location, uninvolved and disconnected.
He should be mad. He should be shaking with fury, or crying his eyes out. Something.
But emotions were dimmed now, and all he could think was that this shouldn't be happening. There was no reason for Ed to have gone through that. None at all.
His dazed mind couldn't understand, couldn't fathom. He needed time to process it all, to possibly find a way that it wasn't as bad as it sounded.
Really, it was a wonder there was anything left of Ed's mind at all.
He reached a cold hand to wipe some of the sweat from his brow and breathed deep before pushing off the wall and heading downstairs, away from the oppressive corner of his home that had become the focal point of Roy's recent nightmares.
Things weren't any better in the living room.
The room itself felt void, like all of the life was gone from it. It was the same feeling Roy associated with funeral homes—empty and tense. Hawkeye sat on the couch, staring blankly at the notes in her hands. Her eyes were glassy, but Roy knew there was no way on earth she would let the tears fall. Havoc stood by the cold fireplace, viciously chewing his cigarette to ribbons, one hand holding a bag of ice around the opposite wrist. His eyes looked haunted and vacant, reminding Roy eerily of the way Ed's now looked so much of the time. Even Silas seemed shaken by what he'd just heard, and for once he was sitting absolutely still, his gaze somewhere far off.
Three pairs of eyes slowly rose to meet his. They exchanged a silent, mutual look of dismay and desperation, like they were waiting for someone to tell them they'd heard wrong, that it was all some awful joke.
Finally, Havoc dared to break the silence. "How is he?"
Roy crossed the room slowly, his feet seeming to drag the floor. "As well as expected," he said, lowering himself into the seat beside Hawkeye. "He's asleep now."
"What happened?" Havoc asked. "There at the end? He just started repeating 'stop' over and over again."
"Flashback," Roy responded.
Something pained flashed through the blond's eyes, then he turned back to the fireplace. "It's not right."
Roy bit back a heated retort. Of course it wasn't right. Nothing about this accursed situation was right, but Havoc had never seen the atrocities that Hawkeye and Roy had, so Roy supposed it made sense for Havoc to be so shaken by it.
Then again, who was he fooling? Roy was positively rattled. He was just better at hiding it, even from himself.
"He wants to finish tomorrow," Roy informed.
Wide eyes met his, questioning and incredulous.
"If he can," he added.
"You can't be serious," Havoc hissed. "After that?"
"It's his decision," Hawkeye spoke up, her voice steady and calm, a direct contrast to her eyes. Roy stifled the urge to reach out to her. He'd known her since their childhood. He knew her pain when he saw it. "If he thinks he can, then we'll try it."
With an obvious force of will, Havoc swallowed his opinion and turned away.
"Jim? Can you be here?" Roy asked.
The doctor looked up quickly, as if surprised to be addressed. "Oh, yes! Of course," he offered with a thin smile that wasn't any less warm for its hesitancy. "I'll be here."
Roy nodded. "Good. Same time, then."
Silence stole over the room again, cold and stiff.
"Come on, Silas," Havoc said, voice strained as he grabbed a couple of messenger bags from the floor. "I'll drive you home."
Silas got to his feet, taking his medical bag with him. "Ah, thank you," he said with a subdued smile. "Well, Roy, Riza. Goodnight."
Roy saw them out, and then he was alone with Riza.
She studied him from the couch with an unreadable expression, her sherry eyes scrutinizing and distant at the same time.
"What?" Roy asked tiredly, half wishing she would just go. He didn't have the will to have another argument. He felt exhausted in a way he hadn't known since the war, as emotionally drained as he was physically.
"After this is over, you're taking a day off."
He blinked at her. "What—"
"I don't care who you get to help with Edward, whoever you think would handle him the best. You're getting out of this house."
A smirk pulled at his lips. It was a nice sentiment, but highly unrealistic, especially in light of everything that was happening. He'd be lucky if he slept again for the rest of the week, be it because of Edward's nightmares, or his own. "We'll see."
She seemed wholly unsatisfied with that answer, but didn't press it further. But then that disappointment in her gaze from the other night returned and Roy had to look away, her words echoing in his mind.
This is eating away at you, and it's not going to stop until you forgive yourself.
She rose to her feet, grabbed her bag, and joined him by the door. "Get some sleep, sir."
He tried to give her a playful smirk, but it felt hollow on his lips. "Stop bossing me around, Lieutenant."
The corners of her mouth twitched just a bit, and he couldn't help but feel just a bit better for it. "Goodnight, Colonel."
"Goodnight, Riza."
She left and Roy went back upstairs, pondering just how difficult smiles had become lately.
XxXxX
A terrified gasp woke Ed up.
It took him a long moment to realize that for once, it was not his own.
His mind immediately started racing as he pulled his legs tighter to himself. Who was that? That wasn't an animal's sound, so it couldn't have been the wolves. No one else should have been down here. Another prisoner? Or someone sent to hurt him?
The gasp faded into rough, uneven panting, and only then did Edward realize he was actually leaning against whoever it was.
He launched himself up, but strong arms wrapped around his waist and stopped him as easily as a child stops a puppy on a leash. He bucked and twisted, but his body was frail and his shoulder tugged painfully and he couldn't shake the solid grip his attacker had on him. "It's okay, Ed, it's okay!" a low voice said, sounding weak and thready, but definitely familiar.
Ed stopped. The mindless panic slowly subsided into empty adrenaline and a pounding heart and he forced his body to relax, his back once again resting against his former superior officer. Not the basement. This wasn't the basement, he was safe.
Mustang's grip finally loosened and they both sat a moment and breathed.
And he couldn't help but wonder if it was just his over-active imagination, or if Mustang's breathing sounded just as ragged and terrified as his.
Finally Edward managed to get himself under control, forcing himself to take long, measured breaths that put oxygen in his lungs and calmed his racing heart.
He could still feel Mustang's heart hammering against his back.
"Mustang?"
Silence.
"Yes?" he finally responded, the reply choked and as tense as his body. Ed could smell sweat, acrid and heavy with fear. Before he had lost his sight, he didn't know there was such a difference, but he had become well acquainted with fear. He knew what it smelled like.
"What's wrong?"
Mustang breathed for a moment more, the breaths becoming deeper and less erratic and the tension slowly giving way to forced relaxation. His heart was still pumping at a heavy staccato, but now it wasn't about to pound a dent in the back of Ed's shoulder.
"It's fine," he said. "It's fine, go back to sleep."
The answer didn't satisfy Ed, but he had a suspicion that he knew exactly what the problem was. "Nightmares?"
Mustang stilled. "Yeah, something like that."
He didn't know Mustang was even capable of having nightmares. The man always seemed so strong . . . even after that breakdown the other day, Ed couldn't help but remember the tall man with the dark hair, black eyes, and a smirk sharp enough to cut his own confidence to ribbons.
But he remembered fighting him on the parade grounds not so long ago, when the colonel was moments away from snapping his fingers and finishing the fight, eyes bright with flame and lips pulled in a triumphant smile as he raised his hand.
Then he saw terror like he'd never seen in those onyx eyes, such a direct contrast to all that Mustang was, and he saw the man remember.
It was the first time Edward had considered that Mustang might actually be human.
"Want to talk about it?" Ed asked.
He huffed a tired, condescending sort of laugh. "It's a silly dream, Ed. I'll be alright."
Ed pulled his blanket tighter around himself. "Just because it's a silly dream doesn't make it feel any less real."
Mustang seemed to reconsider what he had just said. "I guess you're right."
No one said anything for a while, and Ed decided that maybe he should try to go back to sleep while his mind was distracted by someone else's problems, for once.
Ed leaned his head back against the older man's side, the way he usually slept these days. After waking from nightmares, the only way he could possibly hope to get back to sleep was by having a reassuring presence there against him, standing guard over him. If someone had told him just a few months ago that he would one day cling to Colonel Roy Mustang like a child to a father, Ed would have told them to go jump off a cliff, and even have helped them over the edge.
Now, with his little brother so far away, Mustang was as vital to his peace of mind as solid ground under his feet, or the blanket over his shoulders. In just a few short days, Ed had become irretrievably, completely reliant on the older man.
He didn't want to consider how much that really frightened him.
"Sometimes I dream about Ishval."
The sudden confession broke Ed's train of thought. Mustang never talked about Ishval. He had heard snippets here and there about how awful it had been, about how State Alchemists came back with their minds in tatters and souls crushed, and he had even heard from Hughes once that Mustang had had it worse than most. Ed couldn't help but wonder why now, after all these years, Mustang still had nightmares.
And he couldn't help but wonder if that meant he was condemned to his for the rest of his life, too.
Ed silenced his curiosity and waited. He knew how hard it was to just talk, even without interruptions.
Mustang shifted, but whether it was from physical discomfort or mental, Ed didn't know. "Sometimes I . . . I'm back there. They give me orders, and no matter how much I fight it, no matter how I restrain myself, I snap anyway. Just a snap of my fingers and they're all destroyed. Men, women, children, people I know and love . . . everything burns. Sand, fire and blood, that's all that cursed place is," his voice caught and he stopped. When he spoke again, Ed wasn't sure if it was even directed at him anymore. "So much blood."
Ed couldn't quite suppress the shiver that trailed down his spine.
Mustang's head shifted, like he was snapped out of his memories and now looking at Ed. "Sorry. It was . . . well, that stuff has a way of sticking with you."
Ed nodded. He understood. He'd seen his fair share of horrors himself.
Ed curled closer to Mustang's side, though he wasn't even entirely sure if it was for Mustang's comfort or his own. "Mine are mostly about that basement," he admitted softly. Mustang stilled beside him, and Ed knew he had the man's full attention. "Sometimes about . . . when they hurt me." He couldn't stop his flesh hand from creeping up to hold his throat. "That stuff sticks with you, too."
The older man breathed a bit tighter, then his arm moved, hand coming to rest on Ed's head and ruffling his hair gently. Ed couldn't help but flinch at the paternal touch, his body immediately expecting pain, but remembered himself and forced his body to relax. If Mustang noticed his reaction, though, he didn't let on. "Guess you're right."
Ed was afraid of the answer, but the question suddenly burned in his mind and he had to ask. "Does it . . . does it ever get any better?"
The hand stopped, resting heavy on his head.
"It gets bearable," he said finally. "Sometimes you even manage to forget for a while."
Ed would give his last arm and leg to forget. But how could you possibly forget something that just opening your eyes reminded you of?
He closed his useless eyes. "Does anything ever help?"
Mustang seemed to think a moment. "When I got back from Ishval, Hughes stayed with me for a few months. I think that helps with nightmares more than anything—just knowing you're not going to wake up alone."
It wasn't what Ed was hoping for. It wasn't a cure-all, something that would stop the horrid flashbacks or the panic attacks and make things the way they used to be. It wasn't going to make the debriefing easier, or make all of that sickening fear go away, but he supposed that for now, it was enough.
"Thanks, Mustang. For . . . you know."
He could hear the smile. "Don't mention it. Get some sleep, kid."
It was enough to not be alone.
This chappy was difficult to write -_- That's what took so long. Well, that and the whole vacation thing xD
Mustang is starting to have some issues of his own o_O But it seems to be helping Edo in it's own little way, somehow c: Lol this was probably not the chapter you were expecting, but these poor guys needed a breather. So have some warm fuzzies c:
Ooooh, so I'm back from vacation, AND I HAVE A TAN! :D People no longer mistake me for a vampire. The most exciting thing (aside from that) that happened was I got stung by a jellyfish. I think I just ran into the little jerk while I was frolicking in the ocean, minding my own business. Very rude.
Clearly it's too early for me to be awake.
So, also wanted to let you guys know that for the next two months, updates are going to kind of be sporadic. I'm taking my own little extended NaNoWriMo type thing c: To say that I'm not going to work on this fic would be a lie, because this fic is my baby and my crack, and I couldn't possibly -not- work on it, but I'm just going to focus more on the other for the next couple of months. So, sparse updates, but I shall still be updating! :D
Getting to reviews on "Like a Dog" and "Peanut Butter and Bubble Gum" very soon!
Noooow I must be off. I have rehearsal for a show in, like, twenty minutes. *runs away*
If you have the time, please drop a review, and I'll see you next chappy! :D
God Bless,
-RainFlame
