NaNoWriMo - Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfic - Chapter 11
(See Chapter 10)
He didn’t even have to knock; the two guards at the front of the yard waved him past, and as he took the porch steps in one leap, he saw Fuery standing in the doorway, waiting for him. All the lights in the house appeared to be on.
“What’s happened?” Maes demanded breathlessly. Even though he’d driven here, he’d been unable to get a breath since the moment he’d fumbled with and dropped the phone receiver and turned to find Gracia behind him with pants and a shirt. “Where is he?” he gasped. “What’s he done?”
“He’s locked himself in the bathroom upstairs, Hughes,” Fuery said, his face drawn with worry. “Havoc’s talking to him.”
“Thanks,” Maes breathed, touching the younger man’s shoulder. Then he flew up the stairs and down the brightly lit hall, forcing himself to slow down as he approached the spot where Havoc was sitting.
The man didn’t even look up. He’d been speaking as Maes came up the stairs, and continued to talk quietly. “The thing is, boss,” he said, “we can’t just go away and leave you alone. You know we’re not allowed to do that, the way things are set up right now. And frankly, Roy...right this minute, the way you’re feeling, I wouldn’t leave no matter who gave me permission.”
Maes sensed Fuery coming up behind him, and whispered over his shoulder. “All right. What’s been going on?”
“He was restless all evening,” Fuery breathed close to his ear. “He couldn’t sit still, he couldn’t eat more than a few bites of supper, he just kept getting up and pacing. And then he grabbed one of his gloves and started lighting the fire in the fireplace. And then snuffing it out again. And then lighting it again. And then making the flames bounce around.”
“Trying to entertain himself or occupy his mind,” Maes murmured.
“That’s what Jean and I figured. He was pretty distracted. We tried to talk to him about normal things, but he kept getting us to repeat what we just said, because he hadn’t been listening. It was...pretty strange, all evening.”
“And what led to this?” Maes asked, pointing his chin at the scene by the bathroom door.
“Well, he finally apologized for being so distracted all evening, and said he’d better go to bed and hopefully sleep it off.”
“Sleep what off?” Maes repeated sharply. “Was he drunk?”
“Not that we could see, unless he’d been slipping himself something when we weren’t looking. But I really don’t think it was anything like that. We just decided he probably meant his restlessness.”
“So he went to bed. And then...?”
“Havoc set himself up at the top of the stairs, while I did the usual patrol of the main floor. And after an hour or two, Mustang came out of his room and...”
“And what?”
“I heard them talking,” Fuery said, frowning down the hall at Havoc. “I mean...I heard Jean, anyway. I came up the stairs, and I saw the colonel standing by his bedroom door, and…he was all shaky. And his eyes…I don’t know how to describe them, Hughes, they were kind of glassy, and it almost looked like he didn’t recognize Havoc. He kept looking around like he didn’t know where he was, but then he’d finally say something, and you could tell he knew us both, and knew where we were. But he was sweating, and shaky, and kind of...twitchy. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
“How did he end up in there?”
“I got a little closer, and then he sort of lurched toward me, like he was going to try to leave. But he was so weak, it wasn’t hard to grab him and stop him. So then he kind of backed against the wall, and started saying things like ‘It’s no use, it’s no use’. And that’s when he ran into the bathroom and slammed the door on us. Jean told me to stay with him while he called you, and then he came back up and sat down like he is now. Lieutenant Colonel,” the young Master Sargeant turned frightened, pleading eyes upward, “what’s wrong with him? What can we do? Is he going to...hurt himself? You can stop...whatever he’s trying to do. Can’t you?”
“I’ll sure try, Kain,” Maes said, as confidently and comfortingly as he could, though he was already feeling pretty shaky himself. “Thanks for giving me the summary. Don’t be scared.”
He walked up to Havoc, who finally looked up and mouthed the words, “Thank goodness,” and stood up to make way for him. The man’s lean face was grey and gaunt.
Maes tried the knob, and then leaned against the door. “Roy,” he said. “Hey buddy. It’s me. You wanna let me in?” He waited, but there was no answer.
He glanced a question at Havoc, who whispered, “He was telling me to go away just a few seconds ago. So he can hear you.”
“Hello, Roy?” Maes tried again. “What’s going on? Why don’t you let me in and we can have a little talk?”
Again the silence. Maes breathed a question, not even daring to look at his companions. “I don’t suppose he...took his gun in there, did he?”
“No,” Havoc said quietly. “He didn’t have anything with him. And his gloves are still in his bedroom. Don’t worry.”
“That’s good, at least. But...his razor is in the bathroom, isn’t it?” Maes asked. And the stunned silence, and Havoc’s stricken surprise at the reminder of something he’d obviously overlooked, gave him the answer to that question. “Right, then,” he nodded. “I’ll have to be careful of that.” Again he raised his voice, “Roy, come on, are you going to let me stand here all night? I really need to talk to you about something important.”
“Go away,” came an answer at last, and he felt as though his knees would give out from the relief.
“Can’t do that, I’m afraid,” Maes said, voice shaking despite his efforts to control it. “I mean, I actually got dressed and drove all the way over here, just for you. Who else would do that? Are you really going to put all my dedication to waste?” Again a long silence was the only answer he got.
“I suppose,” Havoc muttered, “we could just break the door down.”
“We might have to, at that,” Maes nodded. He raised his voice again. “You know, Roy, even if I leave now I’m never going to get back to sleep after waking myself up so completely. And I’ll just worry about you anyway, which I promise you’re never going to hear the end of. So why don’t you let me in and just get it over with?”
“I said go away!” This time the answer was louder. But now Maes could really hear the raggedness in his friend’s voice. He could almost swear Roy had been weeping. Maybe still was.
He resisted the impulse to rattle the knob and bang on the door. “Roy,” he said. “You’re scaring me. How can I go away now, when I know you’re having trouble? Please don’t tell me just to walk away from you. Please don’t do that. You know I can’t possibly do that.”
No answer. Maes leaned his forehead against the door. “Please, Roy. Whatever it is, I can help. Just let me see you. Let me try. Please.”
“You...you can’t help. Why can’t you just go away?”
“Because...because you’re my best friend. I love you. I can’t walk away from you. Not ever. Please open the door, Roy.”
He hadn’t even realized how close he was to weeping until he heard a rustle on the other side of the door and felt the knob starting to turn, and then felt a tear drop onto his wrist. Not looking back, he motioned Havoc and Fuery farther down the hall as the door slowly opened. It revealed almost nothing: just a murky darkness with only a vague shadowy figure half-melding into the shadows beyond the opening, one arm extended toward the knob on his side. Maes glanced over to cast his two companions a reassuring smile, then stepped into the small room and pushed the door shut behind him. And, feeling around on the wall beside the door, finally found the light switch and flipped it on.
Roy stood half turned away, hugging his arms across his body, head bowed, dark tousled hair falling across his eyes. But as Maes observed his friend, leaning against the open space in the wall just before the sink and vanity, he saw the mottled pink on Roy cheeks, and the sheen of dampness. Had he been right, that Roy had been weeping, or were these the signs of fever? The man stood shivering as though the room were freezing, despite the fact that it was almost suffocatingly warm.
“Well, Maes,” came the cracked whisper. “Are you satisfied?”
“Come here,” Maes murmured, drawing him close, encircling his quivering friend tightly in his arms. “Dammit, Roy, you should have called me.”
“I - I couldn’t. There’s nothing you can do.”
Maes pulled Roy’s head onto his shoulder, and tried to still the other man’s trembling. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said.
“It - it’s not as bad as it looks. I have - I think I - I must have - the flu, or something.”
“Then you should be in bed.”
“I can’t. I just lie there - thinking - “
“What, and you’re not thinking in here?” Maes managed a crooked smile against Roy’s hair.
Roy managed a soft laugh. “Don’t - don’t confuse me with logic, Maes.”
“Oh sure, Roy, tie my hands, why don’t you.” He ran said hands up and down his friend’s back over the rumpled grey material of his pajamas. He suspected that the garments were worn only for the benefit of the man’s nightly guards, since Roy was the type who normally slept in the buff. That was certainly how he’d slept when they were roommates at the academy, at least.
Roy continued to shiver, in quick spasms. “I’m s-so tired,” he whispered. “But I just c-can’t sleep.”
“You should have called me earlier.”
“I never called you at all, remember?”
“And that,” Maes pronounced, “is our usual problem.”
Roy laughed again, briefly, and pulled away once more, running the back of a hand across his damp forehead. He resumed his place leaning against the wall, arms hugged across his chest once again. One of his hands twitched, and he clenched it into a fist. He forced a little smile at Maes, but almost immediately his eyes darted away, surveying the room. The toilet was beyond the sink and vanity, with the elegant claw-footed bathtub on the wall across from them, hung round about with diaphanous silk curtains. Thick, plush red towels hung from gilded rods by the tub and sink, and an equally plush burgundy bathtub mat was set along the length of the tub. Glass shelves had been set above the towel rods, laden with perfumed oils and candles.
Right. He did entertain in here on special occasions, didn’t he?
But from the indent on the bathtub mat on the floor, Maes surmised that Roy had been sitting on it, in the dark, hiding from his subordinates. Shivering. And, apparently, trying not to think.
“Hey buddy,” Maes said softly. “Go sit down again. You don’t look like you’re going to stay on your feet much longer. I’ll join you.”
Roy nodded and moved back to the bath mat, settling himself down with his back against the white tub wall. Maes sat down on the floor across from him, leaning against the vanity cupboard door.
“All right,” Maes said. “Tell me what’s really going on.”
Roy’s eyes darted to his face and away again. He couldn’t seem to keep them still. And all the while he shivered, clutching his hands on his arms or rubbing them up and down. “I told you,” he said shortly. “I have - I think I must have - the flu. Maybe something I ate. I don’t know.”
“I know Havoc and Fuery had supper here too. But they seem fine.”
“So you’ve - you’ve come here to c-call me a liar, then. Thanks a lot, Maes.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to do that. But I just don’t think this is the flu. And I bet this has happened before. Hasn’t it, Roy?”
Again a quick, sharp look at him, before Roy’s eyes darted away. He leaned his head against the tub and once more rubbed the back of a hand across his forehead. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“What did Kimbley call it? The ‘night shadows’?”
For just an instant, Roy was utterly still - hands, eyes, breathing - even the shivering stopped. Then it all came back as he averted his face, bowing over his arms so his hair fell across his eyes. “Don’t be r-ridiculous,” he muttered.
“That’s why you didn’t want anyone staying in the house with you all night, isn’t it? You didn’t want anyone around the next time this happened. How often does it happen, Roy?”
For a long moment there was no answer. Until at last Roy murmured, “Not very often.”
“So he was right? Kimbley?”
Roy tried to steady himself with a deep breath. He drew his knees up before him, rubbing his hands over his face. “Partly,” he nodded.
“What do you mean, partly?”
“It affects us all in different ways,” Roy said. “I don’t think Zolf ever gets a break from it. Which p-probably explains a lot ab-bout him. Armstrong...it made him more emotional. And me...”
“It does this to you. Has it been doing this ever since Ishbal, then? All these years?”
“No. Not - not that long - oh god, Maes, it’s coming again - I can’t - it won’t - “
To Maes’s alarm, Roy unexpectedly dropped to one side, curling up into himself, his whole body shuddering as he threw his hands over his head. Maes crawled over to him immediately, but could hardly do more than just lean over and lay his hand along his friend’s back, his hand behind Roy’s head to prevent him from banging it against the tub.
“Roy - we have to get you to a doctor - “
“No. No!” It was a sharp gasp as Roy forced himself to sit up again, almost throwing himself at his friend, his hands clutching the front of Maes’s shirt. “Please - don’t tell anybody. It’ll pass - if only I - if I could just - I need - I need - “
“Tell me what you need, Roy. Anything - I’ll get it - just tell me!”
“I can’t!” Roy’s face crumpled and he bowed his head, pressing his forehead against Maes’s chest. “It w-won’t stop - I can’t - if I could just get out of here - “
Maes pulled him close again, sliding his arms around him. The tears had risen into the back of his throat again. “I’ll take you out if you let me.”
“You can’t - I need - I just need - to be away from everyone - I can’t stand this - I can’t do this - “
“Oh Roy - “
Roy pulled away from him and leaned back against the tub, hunched into himself with his knees up again, hands buried in his hair. His glazed eyes roved back and forth, back and forth, frantically, as though searching for something. He breathed in short gasps, small sounds of pain coming from his throat.
For a reeling instant, Maes thought of Elysia, huddled in bed making similar sounds when she had a tummy ache or had awakened from a bad dream. But these sounds were much, much worse, coming from a grown man with a cold sweat sheening his body and a mindless desperation in his eyes.
“Stop - make it stop - make it stop!” Roy cried.
Maes leaned forward, helplessly trying to think of something he could do for his friend, but all he could manage in the end was to stroke Roy’s hair, gently. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “I’m here. I’m with you. You’ll get through this.”
“Maes,” Roy said hoarsely. “I feel like I’m dying.”
“You’re not dying. I’m here, I’m going to take care of you. You said this doesn’t happen very often, so it’s going to pass, and I’m not leaving you until it does. Just hold on, until it goes away.”
The eyes his friend raised to his face were the eyes of a drowning man. “It will never go away,” Roy whispered. “It’s never going to go away. Maes...help me.”
“I’ll do whatever I can, I promise. In fact, maybe tomorrow we can see if Major Vanova can help - “
“Don’t let that bitch anywhere near me!”
Maes drew back at the venom in Roy’s voice, shocked at the transformation on his face, the man’s lips drawn back in a snarl, his eyes glaring and aflame.
“Roy - what’s wrong with - “
“Do you think I’m going to let her sort through my nightmares and rummage around my head like some kind of perverted voyeur?” Roy spat.
“Come on, that’s not what she - “
“Kimbley said he’d leave her till last, but he was lying. She’ll be the first person he goes for, and I agree with him! If she ever tried to dissect me like that, she’d get to see the work of the Flame Alchemist firsthand! I’d set her clothes on fire, her hair - she’d see the fire all around her...the flickering...the beautiful...“ Roy stared at the wall as though entranced, his voice trailing away. And then he gasped for breath as though gulping for air after surfacing from a deep dive. “What am I - what am I saying?” He shrank away from Maes’s touch, his body quaking, terror exploding across his face. “I’m sorry - I’m sorry - “
This was terrible. Maes had no idea what to do. He’d never seen Roy like this, not even right after Ishbal. The months after Ishbal had been awful, but it had been a sort of tight, closed despair that Roy had locked himself into. There had never been anything like this haunted, quaking terror.
‘I don’t think Zolf ever gets a break from it,’ Roy had said. Was that really why the Crimson Alchemist was such a madman?
Imagine if Roy had to endure this more than just occasionally…
Maes shook off the thought, and sat back on his haunches. He’d already seen enough to realize that the sudden burst of terror would fade away in a minute. He didn’t dare try to touch Roy until it did.
Sure enough, after a moment or two, Roy’s breathing became more even again, and he managed to relax a bit, his hair by now plastered to his forehead. “Sorry about that,” he murmured. “I get a little...irrational when it sweeps over me that way.” He sighed, closing his sunken eyes. “You see why I really didn’t want Jean or Kain for an audience.”
Maes swallowed the thudding of his heart and forced a chuckle, trying to lighten things up. “I do. You want to keep their respect...”
“...while I’ve lost yours already,” Roy finished obligingly with the faintest smile. He ran both hands up his face and through his hair, leaving it spiked up in several places. “I’m so tired...”
“You really scared me for a minute, there.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Before I came in, I asked Havoc if you’d brought your gun in with you.”
Roy closed his eyes wearily. “I wasn’t thinking when I ran in here, or I might have.”
“Then I got worried about your razor.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought of it too, the last couple of hours.” He stared at the wall and sighed again. “I imagine I’m going to have at least another couple of spells, before it dies down. It tends to go away by morning.”
“Tell you what,” Maes suggested. “You look like you could actually sleep now, for a bit. How about I get you back into bed while things have calmed down, and stay with you in case you do have another spell or two? I’ll make Havoc and Fuery swear not to come in and bother us. And you’ll be a lot more comfortable.”
Roy looked at him and managed a wry grimace. “Don’t you ever get sick of me and all my problems, Maes? I’ve been more than you should ever have had to deal with, all these years.”
“No,” Maes said firmly. “I never get sick of it. I’ll drag you through to the end of this if it takes the rest of my life.”
Roy reached for him and pressed their foreheads together. “I wish you could,” he whispered.
Maes smiled. “All right, buddy. Let me help you up, and we’ll get you settled back in bed. Come on.”
(See Chapter 12)