ssadropout
in
royai
Heaven and Hell Can Wait
A/N- This is forstephs86_br, who is my beta but did not receive this to beta. I just wrote this in a rush and wanted to get it out for RoyAi Day, which I did on FF.net, at least. It’s a sequel to Disappointed.
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6320711/16/A-Mustang-Miscellany Disappointed was a very dark and depressing Roy death fic. The idea behind it was that Roy died, ignominiously drunk from a petty crime, instead of as a hero. stephs86_br convinced me that Disappointed should be a close to death fic and not a death fic. So, happy RoyAi, stephs86_br
XxxxxX
“Here! I’ve found him. He’s alive, but…” It was Havoc’s distraught voice she heard. Her hearing was nearly as sharp as her sight, so she began to run toward the sound. Her legs and arms felt heavy and slow, as if she were under water. But she got there right after Fuery, who was already calling an ambulance on his portable equipment.
“He’s not conscious. Heartbeat is very weak,” Havoc related to Fuery, cradling Mustang’s head in his lap. There was gasping behind her as Breda joined them. “There’s a bad head wound, but the bleeding has pretty much stopped.” He brushed away more flies. How could a man look both dry and bloated?
Hawkeye moved closer and sank to her knees. The smell of urine and feces nearly choked her. She glanced at Havoc, who had tears in his eyes.
Fuery was yelling into the phone. “Hurry. Hurry. This is a dire emergency.” Then he nodded, as the thin wail of a siren threaded toward them. “That’s for us,” he seemed to say directly to Hawkeye. “Yes. Thanks,” back into the phone.
XxxxxX
They hadn’t worried about him until late morning the first day. Mustang had never let specific tour of duty hours cramp his style, but he was always in by 10:00. He hadn’t answered his phone. They did their work- sort of. The men didn’t comment on Hawkeye’s frequent trips to the telephone.
At quitting time, Havoc went over to Hawkeye. “C’mon. I’ll go over with you and we’ll check it out.” She nodded curtly. He wondered if they’d have to break in or if she had a key. If they had to break in, he sure hoped there weren’t any alchemic wards.
Of course, she did have the key. “In case he loses it,” she explained. Havoc sadly thought that it might be true. Most of the men soldiers thought that those two were lovers. Most of the women in the army thought that Mustang would never go for such a hard ass. The soldiers that knew them best just wanted them to be happy.
It was clear that he had not been home. Havoc ventured, “Maybe we should call Madame…”
“She hasn’t heard from him. She’ll call if she does.” Hawkeye sighed. “Take me home and be in on time tomorrow.”
When Mustang didn’t show up or answer his phone the next day, they began searching. They knew where to start. With any freaking bar or dive in the city. Not that that helped much. He seemed to have been to at least four of them two nights ago.
But then, there he was.
XxxxxX
The medic frowned. “His vital signs are very poor.” And then, Mustang’s heart must have stopped, because one medic was breathing into his mouth while the other pounded on his chest. As soon as he was breathing on his own again, they got him into the ambulance. The oxygen seemed to be helping. The nails on the fingers that Riza was holding in her hand seemed less blue.
XxxxxX
They were in the waiting room for hours that seemed like days. Breda thought it meant that they were helping him. That they hadn’t given up. Other than that, no one talked.
Fuery, Breda, Havoc, and Hawkeye rose as one when the doctor appeared.
“He has been stabilized. He had suffered a very bad beating, probably by a couple of thugs. His wallet is gone, and there is evidence that he may have consumed a large quantity of alcohol. He has a severe concussion, internal injuries, and a broken leg. While unconscious, he was bitten by flies and rats causing infections, and he was dehydrated. I suppose you understand that he was dead for several seconds, but his brain was not deprived of oxygen long enough to cause permanent damage. He’s drifting in and out of consciousness. Any questions?”
Breda was the one who asked, “Will he be all right?”
“It’s touch and go right now, but he is getting the best care possible. If he wants to live, he probably will. He’d like to see Lieutenant Hawkeye. Is that one of you?”
“I am Hawkeye, Doctor.”
As they walked, the doctor restated that Mustang was not completely conscious all of the time. He might not be able to talk much. A nurse would be with him until a time when he did not need constant oversight.
XxxxxX
His hair had been shaved in places so that his wounds could be cleaned. It had been too late for stitches. He was still getting oxygen, but only by cannula. Strangely, what upset her most was that the bruise under his left eye was so dark that his lashes blended instead of contrasting against his pale skin. He had been cleaned up and put into a fresh hospital gown. His leg was in traction.
She wanted to take his hand but not to disturb his peace. His lashes did not even flutter.
“Lieutenant?” Barely whispered. Probably just in his sleep.
“Are you there, Lieutenant?”
“Colonel. Sir! I‘m here”
His eyes fluttered open. “You’re not an angel?”
She scoffed. “You think that you’d see angels?”
The sound that came out of him was too weak to be called a laugh.
“I did think that I was dead, though.”
Now it was difficult for her to get the words out through the tears. He voice was ragged. “You were. You were dead. For a minute.”
He tried to sit up and couldn’t. He could move his hand, so he reached out to her. “I’m sorry.”
“You weren’t on a mission. We have so much to do and so many enemies, and you go out and get drunk and get mugged by crooks. You could still die.”
“No, I can’t, Lieutenant. Maybe if you weren’t so mad at me I could.”
She hadn’t realized that she had been yelling. And shaking her fist at the Colonel. The nurse, who had been checking something across the room had hurried back to the bed to control Hawkeye, but Mustang gave her a weak wave.
“I plan to live, Lieutenant. I think that I even want to.” His black eyes suddenly had that look. The look.
“That look isn’t going to make me any less angry!” she said as evenly as she could. “He likes to make me angry,” she muttered to the nurse.
His eyes had closed again, and he looked like he had fallen into a comfortable sleep. But then-
“I love to make you laugh, too.” He reached out and took her hand.
The nurse shook her head and went back to her project.
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6320711/16/A-Mustang-Miscellany Disappointed was a very dark and depressing Roy death fic. The idea behind it was that Roy died, ignominiously drunk from a petty crime, instead of as a hero. stephs86_br convinced me that Disappointed should be a close to death fic and not a death fic. So, happy RoyAi, stephs86_br
XxxxxX
“Here! I’ve found him. He’s alive, but…” It was Havoc’s distraught voice she heard. Her hearing was nearly as sharp as her sight, so she began to run toward the sound. Her legs and arms felt heavy and slow, as if she were under water. But she got there right after Fuery, who was already calling an ambulance on his portable equipment.
“He’s not conscious. Heartbeat is very weak,” Havoc related to Fuery, cradling Mustang’s head in his lap. There was gasping behind her as Breda joined them. “There’s a bad head wound, but the bleeding has pretty much stopped.” He brushed away more flies. How could a man look both dry and bloated?
Hawkeye moved closer and sank to her knees. The smell of urine and feces nearly choked her. She glanced at Havoc, who had tears in his eyes.
Fuery was yelling into the phone. “Hurry. Hurry. This is a dire emergency.” Then he nodded, as the thin wail of a siren threaded toward them. “That’s for us,” he seemed to say directly to Hawkeye. “Yes. Thanks,” back into the phone.
XxxxxX
They hadn’t worried about him until late morning the first day. Mustang had never let specific tour of duty hours cramp his style, but he was always in by 10:00. He hadn’t answered his phone. They did their work- sort of. The men didn’t comment on Hawkeye’s frequent trips to the telephone.
At quitting time, Havoc went over to Hawkeye. “C’mon. I’ll go over with you and we’ll check it out.” She nodded curtly. He wondered if they’d have to break in or if she had a key. If they had to break in, he sure hoped there weren’t any alchemic wards.
Of course, she did have the key. “In case he loses it,” she explained. Havoc sadly thought that it might be true. Most of the men soldiers thought that those two were lovers. Most of the women in the army thought that Mustang would never go for such a hard ass. The soldiers that knew them best just wanted them to be happy.
It was clear that he had not been home. Havoc ventured, “Maybe we should call Madame…”
“She hasn’t heard from him. She’ll call if she does.” Hawkeye sighed. “Take me home and be in on time tomorrow.”
When Mustang didn’t show up or answer his phone the next day, they began searching. They knew where to start. With any freaking bar or dive in the city. Not that that helped much. He seemed to have been to at least four of them two nights ago.
But then, there he was.
XxxxxX
The medic frowned. “His vital signs are very poor.” And then, Mustang’s heart must have stopped, because one medic was breathing into his mouth while the other pounded on his chest. As soon as he was breathing on his own again, they got him into the ambulance. The oxygen seemed to be helping. The nails on the fingers that Riza was holding in her hand seemed less blue.
XxxxxX
They were in the waiting room for hours that seemed like days. Breda thought it meant that they were helping him. That they hadn’t given up. Other than that, no one talked.
Fuery, Breda, Havoc, and Hawkeye rose as one when the doctor appeared.
“He has been stabilized. He had suffered a very bad beating, probably by a couple of thugs. His wallet is gone, and there is evidence that he may have consumed a large quantity of alcohol. He has a severe concussion, internal injuries, and a broken leg. While unconscious, he was bitten by flies and rats causing infections, and he was dehydrated. I suppose you understand that he was dead for several seconds, but his brain was not deprived of oxygen long enough to cause permanent damage. He’s drifting in and out of consciousness. Any questions?”
Breda was the one who asked, “Will he be all right?”
“It’s touch and go right now, but he is getting the best care possible. If he wants to live, he probably will. He’d like to see Lieutenant Hawkeye. Is that one of you?”
“I am Hawkeye, Doctor.”
As they walked, the doctor restated that Mustang was not completely conscious all of the time. He might not be able to talk much. A nurse would be with him until a time when he did not need constant oversight.
XxxxxX
His hair had been shaved in places so that his wounds could be cleaned. It had been too late for stitches. He was still getting oxygen, but only by cannula. Strangely, what upset her most was that the bruise under his left eye was so dark that his lashes blended instead of contrasting against his pale skin. He had been cleaned up and put into a fresh hospital gown. His leg was in traction.
She wanted to take his hand but not to disturb his peace. His lashes did not even flutter.
“Lieutenant?” Barely whispered. Probably just in his sleep.
“Are you there, Lieutenant?”
“Colonel. Sir! I‘m here”
His eyes fluttered open. “You’re not an angel?”
She scoffed. “You think that you’d see angels?”
The sound that came out of him was too weak to be called a laugh.
“I did think that I was dead, though.”
Now it was difficult for her to get the words out through the tears. He voice was ragged. “You were. You were dead. For a minute.”
He tried to sit up and couldn’t. He could move his hand, so he reached out to her. “I’m sorry.”
“You weren’t on a mission. We have so much to do and so many enemies, and you go out and get drunk and get mugged by crooks. You could still die.”
“No, I can’t, Lieutenant. Maybe if you weren’t so mad at me I could.”
She hadn’t realized that she had been yelling. And shaking her fist at the Colonel. The nurse, who had been checking something across the room had hurried back to the bed to control Hawkeye, but Mustang gave her a weak wave.
“I plan to live, Lieutenant. I think that I even want to.” His black eyes suddenly had that look. The look.
“That look isn’t going to make me any less angry!” she said as evenly as she could. “He likes to make me angry,” she muttered to the nurse.
His eyes had closed again, and he looked like he had fallen into a comfortable sleep. But then-
“I love to make you laugh, too.” He reached out and took her hand.
The nurse shook her head and went back to her project.