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This chapter has been a real challenge - if you have the time, I'd love to know if you think it turned out decently.
Enjoy!
Chapter 32 - Day 269
Thomas heaved a huge sigh. His neck was killing him. His hand ached from all the writing. The exams hadn't gone too badly, but the thought of having to take even more in the coming spring made his mood droop like a leaf under rainfall.
And then there was the darn snow! Just how long could it take a team of well-trained soldiers to clear the train tracks? The streets were off worse, the pavements blanketed in white up to his knees. He trudged down the more or less walkable street, careful not to slip or get in the way of sliding cars. Not many people outside for a Monday evening.
Having climbed six flights of stairs, Thomas finally unlocked the door to his flat. He dropped his bag, the strap spraying snow from his coat and hair onto the floor as he pulled it over his head. He'd clean it in a minute, he told himself. First, he had to get out of his soaked trousers, hang his coat in the shower to let it dry, use the bathroom. That was definitely a top three. He hadn't been able to bring himself to leave the deadlocked train like that other man to pee where the entirety of the passengers had seen.
Buckling his belt around a new pair of trousers, a hearty hum of relief stopped short. There was a note on the table. Thomas snatched a hardening bun from the breadbasket, nibbling on it as he leant over the note.
Second stage. Gone to help. 12:36 PM.
That was Katie's handwriting. Come to think of it, she had taken the early shift on purpose to be home for after his exams. And while he would have liked to celebrate by cooking for her, he didn't have the energy. Taking her out was preferable, but here, his wallet disagreed.
The bread became soddy between his lips. Where was she if her shift had ended?
Second stage…
Second stage!
The bun tumbled to the floor. Thomas all but flew into his shoes, down the six flights of stairs and across the street, skidding and falling on an icy puddle. He pushed himself up into a more tempered, urgent run-walk.
Second stage meant delivery. Roy Mustang's baby was coming!
A few men were pushing a bus with little success, trying to get it out where it was bogged down by snow. So much for taking the bus.
Thomas was halfway across town when he realised that he had forgotten his tools! His ears burned with the cold, but he couldn't care less about his hat left at home. His tools! How could he have forgotten? He was only a student so he didn't have many, not much more than those used for a regular checkup anyway. But still!
12:36 PM. It was quarter past five now. The baby was already born. His first patient and he wasn't there, damnit! Had he read the signs wrongly? Had she entered labour when all he had seen had been cramps of stress and premature false contractions? He shook his sleeve to glance at his watch. No, that would mean she had been in labour since Saturday evening, two days ago.
The doorbell rang. The dogs barked in the guest room.
"I'll go." Katie sprang up.
"No, I need—" Knox said but she was already hustling downstairs. "At least take a gun." He hissed to himself, mumbled something, eyes flitting to the knife sterilising in boiling water.
A hotplate for camping. It stood on the coffee table which was next to the bed, littered with tools, bowls, towels, oozing cotton, frozen cubes of apple juice. Riza had long ceased suckling them. She didn't drink, didn't even accept a spoon of sugar or anything else that would keep her body from giving up. She couldn't – she was breathing too hard to swallow properly.
Since Grumman's most recent scheme, she had paced up and down her confined space, the house. Hot showers – several of them – breathing exercises, futile attempts to sleep. When after 36 hours, contractions couldn't disguise themselves as cramps anymore, Roy had called Thomas. Only Thomas hadn't been there.
He had considered calling Grumman or Madame. Heck, he had considered disguising Riza and himself and checking her in at the hospital under a fake name.
At four on Monday morning, Katie Fawns, Thomas' girlfriend and a nurse, had stood at their doorstep, ready to assist. Her presence had reassured them to some extent. She had left for her shift at the hospital, eaten an early lunch, and returned in time for the second stage of labour. By then, Roy had already panicked enough to demand Dr Knox board a train and get the hell into East City.
Snow had surprised them all, chucking from the sky as if the overhanging clouds were ripped-open pillows, spilling onto the streets, bearing down on roofs.
Ripped-open... Roy's gaze went to the knife in the water. Episiotomy, this kind of torture was called. A cut to give the baby more space to exit. Knox was equipped, but a mortician of course didn't come with an arsenal of anaesthesia. But no matter what he did, the baby wouldn't come.
Riza howled, pain lashing through her body. The hand she was holding must have been sprained or worse. Roy couldn't quite move it anymore at will, least of all feel anything but pain. How much of that she must have been enduring, he couldn't fathom. The ring of fire, they called it.
And it was taking much too long.
Dr Knox picked up a pair of blunt surgical scissors. He used them to fish the knife out of the water, dried it off, and moved it towards Riza's belly. Roy's heart was booming in his ears.
"Shouldn't we wait for Katie?" Roy had no time for formalities anymore. His voice was bristling like the hair in the back of his neck.
"I've got seven layers to get through," Knox grouched.
"Can't I transmute anaesthetics? What are they made of?" No way he was going to let Riza be sliced open again like that. And this would be much bigger!
"Hold her arms down," Knox said. Roy's breath caught in his throat. "You want them both to live, right? Then hold her arms down. I don't need her interrupting the surgery."
"Just do it," Riza growled. She had taken Roy's glove from the nightstand. With the rough ignition cloth between her teeth, scratching her lips raw like the ruggedness of a cat's tongue, she fixed the knife with a wild glare.
"Riza!" Roy clutched her hand, her other tearing the bedsheets apart. But she only nodded at Knox. Drowning in sweat, quaking from head to toe, she didn't care – not after these people had heard her every cry, seen her every vulnerable moment. "You can't—" Roy gasped when Knox sliced into her belly.
"Wait!" Katie exclaimed. Hasting up the stairs, she brought Thomas with her, just when the knife had sunken through the skin and fat into the fascia. "It's coming!"
Riza jolted with fresh pain. The glove fell from her lips, bitten through. She screamed. Katie screamed, Thomas screamed, Roy might have screamed too. His head was alight. Blood, there was so much blood that when Thomas ordered him to 'grab the shoulders', Roy wasn't sure he would get to the other side of the crimson tide.
"Hold this down!" Knox shouted at Katie in an attempt to stop the bleeding of the beginnings of a caesarean. She did, Roy having to stumble around her. He fell over the cable of the hot plate on the coffee table. Boiling water gushed onto the floor, burning him.
"The shoulders!" Thomas repeated. Riza cried out. Knox threaded a needle. Hayate barked his lungs out downstairs.
Roy was a shaking mess by the time he reached the end of the bed, his limbs numb, the bones in his left hand possibly cracked. A cough, a tiny cough, then a scream. A baby's scream. Riza collapsed into the soaked sheets with how suddenly the pressure was out. Out. Delivered. Roy gaped at the thing, his arms sticky and runny with liquids, with blood – so much blood.
He didn't register Thomas fetching a towel and the zinc tub. He hardly reacted when the thing was lifted out of his arms or when the umbilical cord brushed his wrist or when his vision darkened, the world going black.
Roy awoke on his back. His legs were propped up on a stack of books. His brain felt like jelly, floating dully inside his head, occasionally prodding his skull with a mild ache. The floor resembled a waterbed, everything wobbling – his limbs, his mind, the house for all he knew.
"… waking up, wait." Katie.
"Too late." Thomas sounded apologetic.
Someone shook Roy's arms. He forced his eyes open, blinking at the shadow above him he identified as Dr Knox. "A war veteran fainting at the sight of a baby," Knox grunted. "No biggie. Cutting the cord could've knocked him out cold again; you did him a favour," he told his son.
The cord. The baby!
Roy shot up to sit. His head didn't quite comply, spinning, eyes blurry. He crashed with his elbows against the wall, trying to catch his fall backwards. Knox grouched but Roy wouldn't listen. Breathing hard, fighting harder to at least scramble to his knees, he crawled towards the bed.
The cord was cut. The baby – Roy's baby! – was being patted dry by Thomas, next to the zinc basin. Some large mouldy steak floated in the murky basin. The placenta. So then it was over. She had done it, she—
Riza!
Roy didn't know whether he had said it aloud or thought her name with all his being. It propelled him forward, made him knock his chin on the bedframe in his haste. The last he'd seen had been the baby's head poking out, then the body. He couldn't remember the colour of its hair with all the blood, if he had a daughter or a son. None of which mattered for as long as he didn't know if he still had a wife.
Riza lied flat on her back. Blood continued to trickle. Blood and fluids and more blood. The bed was a site of battle, the sheets ruined. Her abdomen was smaller though not yet small. Her shirt was drenched in sweat to the point of translucency. Roy flinched when the blood reached him at the foot of the bed, weaving its way through fabric as if having all the time in the world.
Dr Knox appeared on the other side of the bed. He flashed the light of the nightstand, seeking a reaction from Riza's eyes. Where he clung to the mattress, Roy couldn't see her face over the swell of her breasts, only the blood and her propped-up legs as they slid down lifelessly. Panic flared through his veins. Roy was sweltering. It was too hot, there was too much blood and the baby wailed.
Riza's chest rose in sudden panting breaths. She panted; thank goodness she panted.
Clawing his way up, Roy managed to hook his arms onto the mattress. For a moment, he thought he had died, been sent to a place where he witnessed the true power of a goddess: Riza's legs twitched with pain and regardless of it, regardless of hours and days of fighting, her lack of sleep, of food, her loss of blood, she shakily drew herself up to more or less sit against the headboard.
Dr Knox stood aside. Thomas replaced him, introducing Riza to a swaddled, pink, mildly squirming newborn. Roy's nervous system shut down the moment she held it against her. Her chest caved in. Sinking lower, Riza sagged into the pillows, clinging to her baby with what little strength she had left.
Adrenaline helped Roy finally crest the bed, or perhaps it was Katie heaving him up after he might have briefly fainted a second time.
His eyes clashed with Riza's. She stared at him, flushed, bloody, exhausted, still trembling, heartbreakingly concerned about his struggle to stay conscious. It was enough fuel to reach her on unreliable knees and a single hand, the other throbbing uselessly.
"Roy," she breathed. He was immeasurably grateful that she was breathing.
It wasn't sufficient to last through a kiss and frankly, Roy wasn't sure he'd manage either, not just yet. Her name made it to the tip of his tongue but all that came was a wheeze. She smiled. Her eyes drifted closed.
Dr Knox collected his tools, tossed them clatteringly into the stray pot. "I've had enough of young, living people passing out on me. I need a coffee…" He plodded down the stairs.
"Yes, of course," Roy croaked. "Help yourself to anything." He sighed, "anything…"
Thomas inclined his head, re-entering Roy's hazy perception. "Skin-to-skin contact would be best now," he advised. Roy nodded. It took him a moment to draw the conclusion that action should follow. His hand pulsed painfully, but he commanded the other to at least show good will and move towards Riza's soaked shirt. "I'll be doing a quick checkup now and again in ten minutes, okay?" Thomas rummaged through Katie's bag, finding a stethoscope.
Roy watched him listen to Riza's and then to the baby's heartbeat. Warmed up by Riza's chest, the stethoscope didn't bother the baby. Roy's eyes widened in time with the shifting of the fabric. A tiny chest, a tiny heartbeat of its own. His gaze drifted to Riza's belly. "What about the wound?"
"All stitched up," Katie said.
"All of it?"
"All of it." She winked.
Thomas removed one earpiece. "Could you ask my dad if he's got any painkillers with him?"
"Will do, Doc."
Thomas beamed, and she grinned knowingly before making for the kitchen. Upon her return, she carried a bowl of defrosted soup, cut-up fruit, some bread, two glasses of water and a strip of pills.
"Morphine," she explained. "But not on an empty stomach." She proceeded to tell Roy the exact dose and urged him to make Riza eat as soon as she was ready to. The fact that she was nearly falling asleep without painkillers was hardly alarming when remembering the days of discomfort, strain and not a full minute of slumber.
What a weekend… What a birthday she had had, spending it writhing in pain, sleepless, no relief in sight. One day apart from their child's birthday.
Roy glanced at the clock. He would have to call in sick at work. Screw that, he would have to come up with a reason why he couldn't come to work and why he had missed the entirety of Monday. Havoc was still out on a visit to his family in the countryside. Perhaps Thomas could write up another doctor's note.
He didn't call after Thomas when he and Katie went downstairs. He could hear her coo at the door to the guest room, soothing Hayate.
Roy unbuttoned Riza's shirt enough to gently shove her arm upwards on which the baby rested. He didn't dare touch the bundle, least of all pick it up to relocate. Riza's lids fluttered but remained shut. She let out a long breath. Her head rolled to the side, seeking his shoulder. Scooting down, Roy wrapped his arm around her, massaged her scalp.
"You're amazing," he whispered.
Riza smiled tiredly. "We did it."
"You did it."
"We did it…" her voice faded as she drifted off.
He didn't remember nodding off himself, but when he looked at the clock again, twenty minutes had passed. Thomas must have come in and left without him noticing. Riza's eyes were shut, her chest rising and falling evenly. Her temple stuck to his shirt. Wrinkles in the fabric indented in her cheek but she didn't register it.
Roy wiggled his feet to gather the blanket where it was on its way to the floor. He covered her legs with the cleanest part. She wasn't cold and she wasn't bashful. It was Roy who couldn't stand the sight of the blood anymore. He already dreaded seeing the stitches. That wouldn't keep him from helping redress the wound; nothing could, not after the ordeal she had gone through, his sorry arse sitting by, being useless.
Tilting his head, Roy gazed at the baby. The time had come for him to be able to take the weight off Riza; to hold it and feed it and keep it warm like she had for months. But it was so tiny! The skull looked slimmed, squished, the skin as tender as a butterfly's wing. How could he ever hold it without hurting it?
"I think I chipped a tooth," Riza mumbled. Roy had to actively command his muscles to relax, his arm around her having coiled with apprehension. Riza didn't complain. Her tongue bulged in her cheek, inspecting her teeth. "I clenched my jaw so hard, my head is still droning."
His wrist behind her neck bent, two fingers stretching up to draw circles above her ear and on her temple. "How could something so small torment you so much…?"
Riza groaned, leaning further into his touch. "And torment me she did, didn't she?"
"She?" Roy's cheeks glowed a bright pink.
Riza opened her eyes. His hand dropped when she tilted her chin up, meeting eyes blown open to double their size. His pupils were too – flared out, intense, drinking in the presence of the baby in a new light.
Riza brought up her hand. Roy's breath hitched, the urge to stop her flaring in his arm but he restrained himself. Gingerly, Riza moved the improvised swaddle down the baby's chin. One of his sacred towels. He could forgive the misuse this one time. Scratch that, he already knew he could forgive everything and anything when staring at the delicate darling little mouth opening for a hearty yawn.
"Roy." Riza's voice was exuding a warmth, on a par with the sun itself. She took his bruised hand without warning, he found, and he flinched out of her grasp. He swallowed thickly. His brows twitched, palms sweating. She waited. Finally, he lied his hand in hers. "Meet Reign Mustang, your daughter."
The tip of his finger brushed Reign's cheek. Electricity zapped through his arm, the way it did when hitting the funny bone. Even more supple than it looked, the puffy cheek felt like a plump raspberry, squishy and reddish and with the downiest of fine hairs. At the top of her head, Roy beheld the blackness he saw every day in the mirror.
"Fifty percent of you," Riza smoothed the backs of her fingers over Reign's hair, "fifty percent of me. Fortunately for her, your percentage seems to have chosen looks."
"Riza, you're the most beautiful woman there is. How can you say that?"
"I meant my half is the personality."
"Oh… Hey!" Roy gasped. "I have a great personality."
Riza flashed him a small smile. "Yes, it's always very becoming to boast about the greatness of one's own personality." Her smile dropped into exhaustion. "I need some painkillers. I'm still on fire. I don't ever want to have to go to the bathroom again."
"Here," Roy crawled off the bed to reach the morphine on her nightstand, "after you ate." He hid the pill strip under a piece of bread. Riza shoved the bread aside. He shoved it back. "How are you not starving?"
"I am. But I'm more tired than hungry. It's a miracle she hasn't complained yet." She glanced at Reign. Roy did too, glad for the excuse to stare. He felt his eyes absorbed by her, sticking to an extent where he admonished himself for being rude.
Hungry. His voice became husky, thin with chills down his spine. "Are you're ready for… that?" He tried and failed not to sneak a glance at her unbuttoned shirt.
Riza's eyes flashed up to him. A tempest blustered in them, mutely, tangibly. Her head began to shake negative, but she stopped herself, shoulders slumping. A brave face masking the terrified truth.
"Me neither." Roy sank down close to her, in the small space that wasn't mottled with blood and drying-up goo. They had to redo the bed, wash the sheets, probably throw some of them away. The air was stuffy with used-up oxygen and a penetrating iron stench.
"You're not ready?" Her eyes twinkled. "I'll help you get used to it then." Riza's fingers grazed his chest, palm cupping his dug. "Ask me in some five years when I'm in the mood again."
He laughed. His hands flew to her face, and he crushed his lips to hers. Riza jolted forward slightly, a cut‑off hum trading into his mouth, then another, voluntary one. Her hand furled around his shirt.
"I love you so much, Riza. So much." He kissed her again. "You're not only the most beautiful woman, but the most amazing one too. How you can still joke with me after this; after everything…" He looked at her covered legs, drained from strength, slack, sore. "Another trauma. And I'm to blame for it."
"Add it to the pile." Her eyes drifted shut.
"Maybe she is quiet because she wants to grant you rest after that agony."
"Maybe she's just as tired as I am…"
Roy brought a slice of bread to her lips. Obediently, Riza chewed it, slowly, dozing off. She roused and finished the slice when Roy carefully cleared the bed. He didn't dare upset her legs. One dose of morphine later, Riza was crumpled into the pillows, snoring lightly with her chin on her chest.
Reign opened her eyes a slot wide, observing the strange noise right in front of her face.
Roy stood, unmoving, until the chills returned and his feet spurred him to tear himself away. From the kitchen, he heard Katie over the clinking of cutlery.
"Really? Nursing?"
Another chill, right to the pit of Roy's stomach. Riza's touch to his chest still tingled and he wasn't even the one who would be breastfeeding. How Riza coped with the anticipation was beyond him.
Knox grunted. "I know it makes a woman lose some weight but not that much."
"Over 500 calories per day," Thomas said.
"She's a soldier though, right?" Katie asked him. "So she's fit. I bet she'll love getting back to exercising."
"Which reminds me – I need to start running again. Once my exams are over, do kick me out the door when I'm too lazy or forget."
"I'll join you." Katie grinned.
Hayate whined. He must have heard Roy descend the stairs. Glad that he had given Hayate and Sally water beforehand, Roy felt no urge to let them out just yet. The placenta was still somewhere in the house. Upstairs? Had Katie and Thomas taken it with them? How would they get rid of it?
Lost in thought, Roy didn't notice the brief silence in the kitchen. A spoon chinked, stirred robotically inside a mug.
Dr Knox cleared his throat. "How are they?" He paused. "Your exams."
"Good." Thomas voice bloomed like a tree of cherry blossoms. "I hope. I prepared all I possibly could. Oh, that reminds me. Mum said you had a special method of weathering your exams back then. I still wanted to ask you about that."
"I had no special method. She'll mean my provisions. Used to make fun of me for bringing half a pound of cheddar with butter to the exams."
"That's not too many sandwiches – not for six hours of writing."
"No sandwiches, I didn't bring any bread."
Thomas took a breath but there were no words to say. Katie cackled like a chicken.
She hugged Roy when he staggered into the kitchen. Congratulations were in order, she said, overdue even. She inspected his hand, put it in a splint he transmuted out of a wooden cutting board.
"The stitches will need redressing," Dr Knox prescribed. "I'll be back in a few weeks to remove them."
In a few weeks. Roy's ears glowed. When his baby would already be a few weeks old.
He winced when Dr Knox shook his uninjured hand. "It'll only get harder from here on." Indifferent eyes carried a clandestine spark. "Congratulations on becoming a father, Mustang."