October Prompt: Future Fic || "Secrets"
Title: Secrets
Author: capnhoozits
Series: Brotherhood/Manga
Word Count: 872
Rating: G
Characters: Ed and Winry's firstborn, and Scar
Summary: Dr. "Rocky" spends a little time with his patient.
Author's note: This is connected to my previous Ishval entries.
Disclaimer: Disclaim, datclaim. I ain't makin' any money.
Dr. Urey Rockbell “Rocky” Elric removed the blood pressure cuff from his patient’s arm, which still had a pretty sizable bicep for a man of seventy. The tattoos that covered those arms had become an altogether familiar sight. As a boy, Rocky had learned to decipher some of the symbols. The faded line of scar tissue around his right arm was more of a mystery, a story that the old priest promised he would reveal one day.
“One twenty-four over eighty-two,” Rocky pronounced, entering the figures into the chart. “Not too shabby.”
“I try to be accommodating,” the patient replied.
Rocky gave a scoffing chuckle. “That’s pretty rich, considering you can be as ornery as my old man.”
The aging priest returned a deep quiet laugh. “I wouldn’t presume to surpass him in that.”
“He’d be thrilled to hear that.”
It came as a surprise to no one that Dr. Elric chose Rockbell Memorial Hospital in Ishval for his residency. Apart from the family connection, Rocky had been born a stone’s throw from where the hospital now stood. He had spent of lot of time here growing up, visiting during school breaks, sometimes with his parents and siblings, sometimes by himself. Even though Resembool was his home town, he joked that he had long ago set some roots down in Kanda.
Rocky moved behind his patient and pressed the diaphragm of the stethoscope against his back. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”
The patient complied, repeating the exercise a few more times.
“No surprises there.” Rocky draped his stethoscope over his shoulders and clapped the old priest on his back. “You’re good for another year, Saahad.”
“Ishvala willing,” the old fellow remarked.
“Ishvala already gave you the constitution of an ox, so I think you’re set,” Rocky returned. “You’re still coming over for dinner tonight, aren’t you?”
The old priest put his plain tunic of unbleached muslin back on and retied his sash. He was the chief cleric of Ishval, but he kept things simple. He turned to Rocky, his crimson eyes warm. “Of course I am. This birthday is somewhat special, you know.”
Rocky gave him a questioning glance as he adding that visit’s chart to the rest of the patient’s file. “How’s that?”
“You’re thirty-five.”
Rocky had to think for a minute. “Yeah, I am.” He grinned a little sheepishly. “I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve lost track.”
“Ah, you see, though, I remember,” the old priest said with a wag of his finger. “You’re now the same age I was when you were born. That was quite a day.”
“That’s what I hear!” Rocky had to laugh. “My mom loves to tell that story.”
“How is she?” the old priest asked, genuine affection in his words.
“She’s fine,” Rocky told him. “They called me this morning to wish me a happy birthday. Mom sends her love, by the way.”
Back in the old man’s prime as a warrior-priest, he and Rocky’s parents shared an extraordinary adventure, one that Rocky was sure had gotten sugar-coated with a hazy, romantic patina over the years. When they got together, they would sometimes reminisce, but they always seemed to veer away from some of the details. As a kid, he found this frustrating. As he grew older and hopefully a little wiser, he came to realize that some of those details might have been things they wanted to forget.
Sometimes, when their get-togethers quieted down, old warrior would take Mom’s hand and they would share a long gaze. Without a word being uttered, it still seemed to speak volumes. It spoke of some quiet sorrow, Rocky was sure. Somehow he knew not to ask.
Whatever experiences they had shared, for good or ill, had bound them together. So Rocky didn’t really begrudge them their secrets.
He still couldn’t help being a little curious.
He walked his patient out through the lobby, the waiting patients greeting their priest and their doctor. As they neared the door, Rocky asked in an undertone, “How about for a birthday present, you finally tell me about that scar?”
“What? This?” the priest pointed to this face. “I’ve told you that story more than once, I’m sure.”
“No.” Rocky gently gripped the old man’s right bicep. “This scar.”
The old man paused. “Ah,” he mused. He turned with a gaze that seemed to burn from the eyes of a younger man. The gaze grew thoughtful and he nodded. “Yes, perhaps I will.”
“I mean…” Rocky demurred, suddenly feeling like he’d overstepped and pushed a little too hard. “If that’s all right.”
The old warrior smiled a slight, shrewd smile. “Of course it is.” He, in turn, gave Rocky’s arm a squeeze. “Thank you, Dr. Rockbell.”
The old priest had long ago taken to calling him that, not, as he said, out of any disrespect for the Elric name, but out of respect for the Rockbell name. He never quite explained why, but it seemed to give the old fellow a sort of comfort.
The old priest stepped out into the Ishvalan sunshine and Rocky went back to his office, a thoughtful smile on his face. Let them keep their secrets.
Author: capnhoozits
Series: Brotherhood/Manga
Word Count: 872
Rating: G
Characters: Ed and Winry's firstborn, and Scar
Summary: Dr. "Rocky" spends a little time with his patient.
Author's note: This is connected to my previous Ishval entries.
Disclaimer: Disclaim, datclaim. I ain't makin' any money.
Dr. Urey Rockbell “Rocky” Elric removed the blood pressure cuff from his patient’s arm, which still had a pretty sizable bicep for a man of seventy. The tattoos that covered those arms had become an altogether familiar sight. As a boy, Rocky had learned to decipher some of the symbols. The faded line of scar tissue around his right arm was more of a mystery, a story that the old priest promised he would reveal one day.
“One twenty-four over eighty-two,” Rocky pronounced, entering the figures into the chart. “Not too shabby.”
“I try to be accommodating,” the patient replied.
Rocky gave a scoffing chuckle. “That’s pretty rich, considering you can be as ornery as my old man.”
The aging priest returned a deep quiet laugh. “I wouldn’t presume to surpass him in that.”
“He’d be thrilled to hear that.”
It came as a surprise to no one that Dr. Elric chose Rockbell Memorial Hospital in Ishval for his residency. Apart from the family connection, Rocky had been born a stone’s throw from where the hospital now stood. He had spent of lot of time here growing up, visiting during school breaks, sometimes with his parents and siblings, sometimes by himself. Even though Resembool was his home town, he joked that he had long ago set some roots down in Kanda.
Rocky moved behind his patient and pressed the diaphragm of the stethoscope against his back. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”
The patient complied, repeating the exercise a few more times.
“No surprises there.” Rocky draped his stethoscope over his shoulders and clapped the old priest on his back. “You’re good for another year, Saahad.”
“Ishvala willing,” the old fellow remarked.
“Ishvala already gave you the constitution of an ox, so I think you’re set,” Rocky returned. “You’re still coming over for dinner tonight, aren’t you?”
The old priest put his plain tunic of unbleached muslin back on and retied his sash. He was the chief cleric of Ishval, but he kept things simple. He turned to Rocky, his crimson eyes warm. “Of course I am. This birthday is somewhat special, you know.”
Rocky gave him a questioning glance as he adding that visit’s chart to the rest of the patient’s file. “How’s that?”
“You’re thirty-five.”
Rocky had to think for a minute. “Yeah, I am.” He grinned a little sheepishly. “I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve lost track.”
“Ah, you see, though, I remember,” the old priest said with a wag of his finger. “You’re now the same age I was when you were born. That was quite a day.”
“That’s what I hear!” Rocky had to laugh. “My mom loves to tell that story.”
“How is she?” the old priest asked, genuine affection in his words.
“She’s fine,” Rocky told him. “They called me this morning to wish me a happy birthday. Mom sends her love, by the way.”
Back in the old man’s prime as a warrior-priest, he and Rocky’s parents shared an extraordinary adventure, one that Rocky was sure had gotten sugar-coated with a hazy, romantic patina over the years. When they got together, they would sometimes reminisce, but they always seemed to veer away from some of the details. As a kid, he found this frustrating. As he grew older and hopefully a little wiser, he came to realize that some of those details might have been things they wanted to forget.
Sometimes, when their get-togethers quieted down, old warrior would take Mom’s hand and they would share a long gaze. Without a word being uttered, it still seemed to speak volumes. It spoke of some quiet sorrow, Rocky was sure. Somehow he knew not to ask.
Whatever experiences they had shared, for good or ill, had bound them together. So Rocky didn’t really begrudge them their secrets.
He still couldn’t help being a little curious.
He walked his patient out through the lobby, the waiting patients greeting their priest and their doctor. As they neared the door, Rocky asked in an undertone, “How about for a birthday present, you finally tell me about that scar?”
“What? This?” the priest pointed to this face. “I’ve told you that story more than once, I’m sure.”
“No.” Rocky gently gripped the old man’s right bicep. “This scar.”
The old man paused. “Ah,” he mused. He turned with a gaze that seemed to burn from the eyes of a younger man. The gaze grew thoughtful and he nodded. “Yes, perhaps I will.”
“I mean…” Rocky demurred, suddenly feeling like he’d overstepped and pushed a little too hard. “If that’s all right.”
The old warrior smiled a slight, shrewd smile. “Of course it is.” He, in turn, gave Rocky’s arm a squeeze. “Thank you, Dr. Rockbell.”
The old priest had long ago taken to calling him that, not, as he said, out of any disrespect for the Elric name, but out of respect for the Rockbell name. He never quite explained why, but it seemed to give the old fellow a sort of comfort.
The old priest stepped out into the Ishvalan sunshine and Rocky went back to his office, a thoughtful smile on his face. Let them keep their secrets.