Chapter 6:
The doctor's surprise was thinly veiled as he looked at the man before him incredulously. "You'll what?" Mustang looked surprised himself, but quickly recovered before answering, "Yes. I know more about him than you do, it's convenient, and…I'm worried about him, Doctor." Roy ended softly.
Doctor Walker's coffee-colored eyes softened at the last, seeing that this man did care for the boy. He had read in his file about the young prodigy's past, and it seemed that Roy Mustang had played a rather large part in the Elrics' life in the last couple of years. He looked Mustang squarely in the eye as he asked, "Are you sure, soldier? I mean, do you realize what helping him will mean?"
Colonel Roy Mustang straightened his shoulders and fixed his midnight gaze on the aging physician. He answered in a level, calm voice, "Yes sir, I do."
The concerned doctor took in the colonel's apparent determination to care for his sick subordinate. Satisfied with the resolve he saw in Mustang, he nodded and said, "Alright. We'll try it for a month. If there is any serious deterioration in his condition, we'll find other arrangements immediately, alright with you, soldier?"
Mustang agreed, and was given instructions on how to take care of him at home. He had to take home quite a lot of hospital equipment, since Edward still was not eating on his own. Edward's face never changed even though he had to have seen he was not going back to the hospital, and he never even looked curious when they walked up to Roy's front door, not that Roy expected him to. All through the ride from the doctor's office Roy mentally cursed himself for making such a rash decision. He obviously hadn't thought this through; he sometimes forgot to take care of himself, how was he supposed to care for Edward?
Looking over to his right, he saw the boy sitting next to him. He was humming quietly. It sounded like the same tune he had heard Edward sing before. Roy wondered idly what song it was, then turned his concentration on getting home.
'Home is just a four letter word.' Mustang thought irrationally. They pulled into the driveway, and he led Edward into the house, down the hallway into the spare bedroom. The boy sat down on the corner of the bed, and paid no mind to Roy bringing in his few belongings and the medical accoutrements he had been sent with. Edward did not glance around the room, which was painted a soothing blue-gray, a little like the sky is just before the sun begins to rise and paint the world with oranges, reds, and yellows. The decorations were sparse; a radio on the nightstand, an empty vase sat on the chest of drawers, which was a magnificent mahogany color, a lamp next to the radio, a mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door, and a beautiful watercolor painting of a young woman with long flowing blonde hair dressed in a cornflower-colored dress standing in a field of violets, her gaze directed at something beyond the frame of the picture. Her eyes were an amazingly bright blue, and they conveyed sadness, longing, and something that was happiness turned sour and rancid.
The picture was beautiful and haunting, and it was positioned across from the bed, so that when you were lying in bed, it was in your direct line of vision. Mustang's guest room was perfect; elegant and comforting yet was bare enough to discourage extended visits from unwelcome guests.
When the car was finally unpacked and the equipment set up, Roy stood at the door to the room, suddenly slightly uncomfortable. He was unsure of what to say to the boy, so he simply said, "If you need anything, Edward…" Here he trailed off, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. With the door closed, he didn't hear Edward's very quiet murmur of, "I need Al, but you can't give that to me…"
The first few days of this tentative relationship went a little awkwardly, but Mustang trudged forward. Edward was quite unresponsive to Roy, showing no improvement, but the older man tried to keep reminding himself that it wasn't going to be an overnight process, that it was going to take time and patience, cost him tears, sweat, and blood. The interesting thing was that this idea did not bother Mustang, and he found himself quite anxious to get home most days to see Edward. After living alone for all this time, he realized it was kind of nice to have someone at home when you got there, even if said someone was only a small step above a vegetable.
The routine became as such; in the morning, Roy would fix breakfast for himself and Edward, feeding the boy if need be. He thought that the IV wasn't really helping, only giving him no incentive to get any better. Sometimes he had to force-feed Edward, and make him chew the food, and swallow the drink.
Then, he would proceed to work, where he would still get very little done, but simply because he found himself worried about what Edward might do while he was gone. What if he jumped out of his bedroom window, a two-story drop? What if he wandered into the kitchen and found some sharp knives? What if he found Roy's sleeping pills he took every so often when nightmares of fire and screams couldn't be drowned out by the liquor? 'What if, what if, what if, what if' ran through his head all day until the end of the day where he was a complete wreck and Hawkeye looked at him with serious consideration of letting him off for the day.
He would rush to his home to run up the stairs only to slowly open the door and look in on his ward, who would either be sleeping or staring at the painting of the woman. His heart would slow, his breathing would regulate, and he would walk downstairs to fix them both some supper. He didn't have to worry about Edward's lunch, since he had a nurse come in and feed him so he didn't miss any work (at Hawkeye's suggestion).
When dinner was ready, Mustang had taken to eating in Edward's room, and talking to him about his day. At first he found it disconcerting to speak to someone who didn't respond and who didn't look at him, but eventually he grew accustomed to it. He came to enjoy talking to Edward, and he would brush his hair in the evenings, to keep it from tangling, he told himself. It wouldn't do to have that gorgeous blonde mane become snarled and tangled. He read alchemy texts to the teen, but found he got an actual response when he read novels, mystery novels, to be exact. Edward would turn his head and look at Roy.
The first time it happened, Roy nearly dropped the book. He had barely seen the boy move of his own accord twice since Alphonse had died. And then, Roy smiled into those empty yellow orbs, and was certain that he saw a flicker of what used to inhabit this shell. That's what Edward was anymore, really, Roy knew. Nothing more than an empty husk, devoid of anything, which was scarier than anything else he had experienced, because what do you fill that empty space in a person's soul with?
(A/N: I know this one isn't as good as it might have been, but I swear the next chapter will be much better...I hope...lol. And I am so so so so so happy with all your reviews, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! They really inspire me. ;)