"Alright, Fuhrer Mustang, you are discharged with a clean bill of health," the doctor said, continuing on with the discharge instructions. He glanced out the window quickly and, sure enough, it was overcast. His temples seemed to pulse in time with his heart, which he knew wasn't the best thing. Instead of grumbling in frustration like he wanted to, he looked back at the doctor and listened to the rest of the lecture on 'taking care of himself'. He knew how to do so very well, he just didn't like to.
"Thank you Doctor," he said with a smile, "You've served your nation well." The doctor smiled back at him before signing a sheet of paper and handed a small stack to Mustang off of the clipboard.
"Just remember to get plenty of sleep and do your best to stay hydrated. I understand that you are a busy man, but your needs are important." Mustang nodded and smiled again at the man as he left the room quickly. Another bout of coughing caught his ear and he frowned in the direction of the wall. Edward was not doing well.
Closing the door to the hospital room, he quickly drew curtains over the windows and changed out of the hospital gown and into his blues. As he pulled on the heavy material of his jacket, he let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness..." It felt good to have the comforting weight back on his shoulders. As he fixed his boots, he thought through his next move. There was no way about it, he would have to warn all of the state alchemists of the strange happenings in Central over the last few years. He had received a new report last night, and it held disturbing news. Another alchemist had turned up dead a few blocks from Central Command in his own apartment. However, this man had no connection with Ishval.
He had only been accepted into the ranks of the State Alchemists two years ago, coming out of, surprisingly, child care in some of the orphanages around the country. His specialty was, unsurprisingly, medical alchemy. He had a knack for bruises and scratches that most medical alchemists lacked due to the more serious injuries that alchemy was required too heal. His codename was, funnily enough, the Bandage Alchemist.
However, there seemed to be no connection between this man and the other victims. There was a possibility of a copycat, but he'd rather be safe than sorry. Therefore, all State Alchemists, even those not on active duty, needed to be informed of the dangers. First though, he needed to speak with Edward. Despite the fact that he was, for the most part, physically recovered, he knew that he was likely mentally unbalanced.
Mustang stood a moment later, opening the door into the hallway. Sure enough, there stood one Riza Hawkeye, gun in holster watching anything and everything in the surrounding area.
"Col.?" he asked slightly. A glance in his direction and a raised eyebrow were the only reaction she gave. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"
"Fullmetal?" Edward looked up from his stupor at the sound of his CO's voice.
"Hey, Mustang..." he said weakly, greeting the older man. Mustang walked quietly into the room, not able to get much further than the chair at Edward's bedside. He'd finally recovered enough to feel exactly how dehydrated he was through the migraine and it wasn't fun.
"How are you feeling?" Mustang asked awkwardly, not exactly sure what kind of conversation he could have with the younger alchemist after his nightmares. So much fire and blood...
"Mustang?" The raven haired man looked up to see Edward's questioning glance. "What's wrong?"
"I..." He felt himself tripping over the words, unable to figure out how to answer. He ran a hand through his hair to gather his wits. As it fell back to his lap, a metal hand captured his wrist.
Edward quickly rolled his sleeve up and glared at the small plastic band around the man's wrist.
"You were checked into here for four days." It was a flat statement. "Why?"
Mustang was silent for a moment "There was... an incident at my home a few days ago..." He thought for yet another moment, unsure whether or not to tell the young man the truth. It was shameful. He honestly hated this part of himself, weak enough to stoop to such a level. Hawkeye, who currently stood in the hallway outside of Edward's room, was so disappointed in him. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her tone, he could even see it in the way she walked, head just a little lower than it should have been. He knew that if Hughes was still around, he'd be much more vocal with his disapproval and would refuse to leave him alone, even for a second. If Edward knew, Mustang wasn't sure how he would react, but he couldn't stand any more disappointment.
"Well?" Edward asked impatiently, breaking his train of thought.
"It was..." He took a deep breath and decided his fate, "It was alcohol poisoning."
"...What the hell were you thinking?!" Edward managed after a moment. The younger alchemist couldn't believe it. Mustang was finally turning the country around, righting the wrongs of the Bradley administration, and fulfilling the goals that he and his subordinates had sworn their very souls to. What the hell would cause the man to put that in jeopardy? Instead of Mustang snapping back in defense of himself like Edward expected, he seemed to deflate before his eyes.
"Fullmetal?" the Flame Alchemist questioned quietly, "How much do you know about PTSD?" Edward eyed him warily for a moment before answering.
"PTSD stands for Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder. ...It's prevelent in military personnel returning from duty, but civilians have also been known to suffer from the disorder. It's more commonly seen in people with pre-existing mental and/or physical disorders. It's shown through different symptoms depending on the patient..."
"The most common symptoms are nightmares, depression, and... suicide attempts." Mustang glanced up to see Edward staring at him intently. It wasn't a look of hatred or disgust that he expected from the other man. It was a look and compassion and... understanding that left him bewildered. Edward glanced away after a moment.
"You know..." the blonde began hesitantly, "What you did was not okay... But... I can understand. Do you remember... when you first met me? And I was in that wheelchair?" Mustang nodded, unsure where Edward was going with this. "I seemed half dead... And at that point, I probably was. Y'see..." Edward squirmed on the hospital bed, trying to buck up and just tell the man, but even now, years later, it was hard.
"I... It was because I got into Granny Pinako's pain killer's... And I almost overdosed on them." A sharp intake of breath caught his attention and he looked up at Mustang to see obsidian eyes boring into him. "It wasn't like it was a suicide attempt or anything, I wasn't thinking 'I want to kill myself' or something like that. It's just... The nightmares... They were so bad and Al... He had to hear me screaming every night and... Well, I guess I kinda just wanted it to stop."
"This wasn't on your psychological profile or on your medical profile." Edward blinked in surprise, looking up at Mustang.
"Well, duh." He said after a moment, "It probably would've stopped me from getting into the military. Unstable alchemists are more likely to commit... commit murder."
"Regardless, this was kind of a bad thing to hide, Fullmetal. What if you had tried again?"
"I wouldn't have." Mustang peered over at Edward once again, trying to discern where the man was getting his reasoning.
"People who have at least one suicide attempt have a higher chance of a relapse."
"Screw you, Bastard," Edward replied, bitting out the words, "I told you. I just wanted to make the nightmares go away." Mustang shivered uncomfortably in his seat. The words were sounding all too familiar to him.
"Make the nightmare go away, huh?" He chuckled humorlessly before switching topics. "So, back to business. What have you heard about alchemic suicides?"
AUTHOR'S RAMBLING EXCUSES/REPLIES TO THOSE THINGAMABOBS YOU SAY
...Don't kill me? Pineapple is a fruit? Knowlege is knowing tomatoes are a fruit, wisdom is not putting them in a fruit salad. Reading this story is hating me for inconsistant updates, loving this story is not killing me in order to get more chapters... I IS SCARED OF PITCHFORKS! *Runs*
NatsuL0ver: Look! I updated! XD
Dragonfire Alchemist: I'm really happy you think so highly of my fic! Thank you! *Hugs* And look, this chapter just so happens to have both of those features! PTSD just sums that up, huh? All fun and games aside though, it really is sad that so many people are afflicted with that condition...
Guest: Thanks for your understanding!
karmadella1234: Lookies, I even posted today for you so you wouldn't have to wait till next week to ambush me!
CutiePie120048: No, surprisingly, she didn't die! XD She's even been in the current day part of the story! *Innocent smile*
I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, thanks to anyone who added this to their favorite stories list or update list! I'm sorry I didn't get this out last month, but I've been super busy with school. The only reason I'm even getting away with posting this today is because I'm currently sitting in a two hour block study hall for exam week... DX Pray for me, I still have to take my four hour physcalc exam!