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October 1913
In his most recent call from Central, Maes had mentioned something about how Elicia had been going down with colds more frequently than usual. Apparently, once one kid in the play group caught something and brought it in, every other family had to brace for impact.
Roy supposed that made sense for a bunch of toddlers, with their grubby little hands all over each other at all times of the day. In that same vein, then, maybe he shouldn’t have been all that surprised at the two sniffly tweens sitting across the desk from him.
Hawkeye had given him a stern look as she’d ushered Edward and Rebecca into his office, as if the pair’s twin red noses and ashen pallor would escape him without her prompting. Alphonse tailed them in, standing sentry as always, though he cast another look Roy’s way. For a moment, he wondered what had become of his life that he could read the worry in the stature of a suit of armor before he raised one hand in acknowledgment, closed his eyes, and heaved out a sigh. If he had to guess, he’d assume the youngest member of the trio had already tried to get them to take a day off and call in sick, and yet…
“You two look like shit,” Roy said frankly.
Ed glared at him, though the expression lacked some of its usual sting. Becca merely blinked tiredly. Notably, neither argued the point. Rather, Rebecca mumbled out, “‘S just a cold. What’s going on?”
Somewhere, in the farthest recesses of Roy’s heart, something shuddered for these kids he’d somehow found himself in charge of. A deep protective instinct almost drove him to reach across the desk and take their temperatures before he caught himself, turning the aborted motion into a grab for a few papers scattered across his desk. They were meant to be a new lead for the boys, he reminded himself as he shuffled them around, trying to regain his composure.
“Those for us?” Ed asked, reaching to take the sheaf of papers.
Roy didn’t think of himself as having much of a conscience left these days, but even he knew he couldn’t send them out in this condition. As such, he snatched the assignment details back, filing them away in a drawer and smirking at them. “No. Private communications. Grown-up talk.”
Becca made a face at the allusion, but it thankfully got them off of his back. “So why’d you call us in?” she asked. Roy tried to squash down the instinctual sympathetic wince at her raspy voice, then had to push away visions of the girl crumpled on the ground the night she’d gotten her certification, voice scratchy after her own brother had nearly strangled her to death.
Shit. He’d already mentally decided he would send them home anyway, but that meant he’d need to come up with a reason for this meeting that wasn’t the lead he had just chosen to keep close to the chest for a few more days. “I was hoping to go over some of the sloppiness in your latest reports before sending them to the higher-ups, but if you were in this state when you wrote them, then I think I know the root of the problem.”
“Shut up,” Ed groused.
“Take a few days off,” Roy instructed, pointedly ignoring the boy’s attitude. “Once your brains aren’t full of muck, edit the reports and get them back to me.”
“I can take them now,” Becca offered.
Roy shook his head. “Alphonse can take them,” he said, passing the offending documents over her shoulder to Al, “and he will give them to you when you are functional again and not a moment sooner. Dismissed.”
“This is such bullshit,” Edward complained through his congestion. “Could have been a phone call.” He stood up and Roy politely didn’t mention how he swayed ever so slightly in place at the motion, then turned over his shoulder and stomped back out of the office. Following his lead, Rebecca got to her feet, although she at least saluted half-heartedly before trailing after him.
He watched them go. A small part of him protested letting them out of his sight; yes, they needed to rest, but the large couch in his office had hosted plenty of his power naps and they were still small enough that they could both comfortably fit there-
He shook his head again to himself. They might look more their age than they usually did, but none of that particular trio needed or wanted to be coddled, particularly not by Roy. Hell, most of the time, Roy himself didn’t want to coddle them. He just couldn’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t be a little unnerved by the sight of those two at that moment. Still, he called out, “Alphonse, a quick word?”
The boy paused, pointing to himself as if Roy could be talking to anyone else, then gently let the door close between himself and his compatriots after Roy nodded in affirmation. “Yes, Colonel?”
“Has anyone bothered to get a flu shot yet this year?”
The silence was enough of an answer. Roy let out a long breath. Honestly, part of the blame for that probably lay at his feet– who could expect two thirteen-year-olds and their fourteen-year-old de facto leader to both remember and willingly go to a clinic for a shot if he, the adult man supposed in charge of them, hadn’t even thought about it until they’d already come down with something? Especially when only two members of the trio could actually receive it? Roy made a mental note to get the rest of the team squared away with their own shots sometime in the next few days and to drag their youngest members along if he had to.
“It’s alright, let’s hope it’s just a cold like Rebecca said,” he said. “You three in the barracks, not a private hotel?”
The joints in Al’s neck creaked as he nodded.
Roy grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper, scrawling down a few phone numbers. “I’m sure you already know it, but the office phone number is here. Since you’re in the barracks, you shouldn’t need to use a code to get through to us. The one under it is my home phone number, and under that is Lieutenant Hawkeye’s. If they take a turn for the worse, call.”
“But Colonel-”
“We’ll hope it won’t get to that point,” Roy said firmly. “But just in case. I’m sorry to put this on you, but I think we both know that my trying to stick a babysitter on them will only make the situation worse.”
Al chuckled, the sound echoing around inside the armor. “That’s probably true.” He visibly steeled himself, sliding the paper with the phone numbers into the reports Roy had already given him. “I’ll keep you updated, sir.”
“Don’t stress too much, Al. I’ll assume no news is good news. You’ve got a way to keep yourself busy?”
“Yep! Becca’s been loaning me some books she took from her house, so I’ve got plenty of new reading material.” Al was one of the few people Roy interacted with regularly whom he didn’t have to share salutes with, so it felt a bit odd to just wave as he finally went to join the other teenagers. Still, hearing his relatively cheerful goodbye (at least juxtaposed to Ed’s annoyance and Becca’s sullenness) helped that pesky protective urge settle, if only a little. Al had a good head on his shoulders. He’d reach out if they needed anything.
—
Roy sat up in bed, unsure as to what had woken him. He couldn’t taste the phantom smoke that sometimes came with his nightmares, nor was Ishval and his plans for penance the first thing on his mind as it usually was with those dreams. He blinked groggily, then startled as the ringing of the phone echoed through the apartment.
He started to shift with a groan, angling toward the edge of the bed. Who the hell is calling this late- early- whatever-
There are only a select few people who have this line’s number. Riza, Maes, Jean… he’s sure he gave it to the others, to Breda, Falman, and Fuery at some point, but he can’t fathom why he’d be the one they call at 2 in the morning… and…
“Oh, fuck,” he said aloud before he could stop himself, hurrying into the living room and picking up the receiver before it rang out. “Go for Mustang.”
“Um, Colonel, sorry to bother you so late,” came Al’s slightly panicked voice. “It’s just- well, Brother’s gotten a fever and I’ve been keeping cool rags on him but they don’t seem to be doing much and he said he doesn’t want to go to the hospital, and Becca’s breathing is starting to sound really weird-”
Damn, damn, damn. Damn it all. Roy forced himself to take a breath before responding.
“Alright, Al, it’s not a problem. I’m glad you called,” he said, pressing the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he started toeing on his shoes. “It sounds like it might be a strain of the flu after all, but don’t worry. Still totally treatable without a hospital. Are they awake?”
“No, sir,” Al responded. “They’ve been sleeping for a few hours at a time, waking up for a few minutes, then going back to sleep all day.”
“That sounds like the flu,” Roy repeated, more to himself than the boy on the other end. The boy who, even though he was trying to keep it together, Roy could clearly hear the edge of fear in his voice when he described the condition of his brother and friend. Feeling like the least qualified person to do so while being the only one available, he tried to soothe, “They’ll be just fine, Alphonse. Plenty of kids get the flu every year and are over it in a week. I’m going to call Hawkeye, and then I’m coming over. Give me fifteen minutes. Keep getting those cool rags on Ed, and if you can, try and get Becca into the bathroom and turn on the shower to see if the humidity will help her breathe a little easier.”
“Okay,” Al said, sounding at least a little steadier. Kids tended to do better with clear directives, right? Roy fought the urge to smack himself. Directives? This was a teenage boy, not a soldier. Not even a teenage soldier like the other two, which was a phrase Roy couldn’t think too much about this late at night with the kids in the state they were without a pit forming in his stomach. Expectations, then. Clear expectations and praise. God, maybe Havoc had been right when he’d given Roy that parenting book as a joke when Fullmetal joined their ranks.
“You did a good job, Al,” Roy added, shaking himself out of his spiral. “Watching out for your brother and Becca. Just hold on a little longer.”
—
Riza had agreed to swing through a 24-hour convenience store for some provisions and Roy had just barely remembered to grab the bottle of pseudoephedrine tablets from his medicine before he headed for the barracks. The soldier manning the front desk had given him and the sleep clothes he hadn’t bothered to change out of an odd look, only to sit up ramrod straight when he flashed his watch. He pointed him in the direction of the Elric/Harper room, where Roy had to resist the urge to just let himself in, instead knocking and giving Al a few moments to come to the door.
Thankfully, Alphonse opened the door a few seconds later. “I did like you said,” he said in lieu of a greeting, metal shoulders up by where his ears would be. “Brother’s still in bed and Becca’s in the bathroom.”
Sure enough, he could hear the shower running in the other room while Ed had sprawled out on top of his blankets in the bed closest to the window. His face was flushed and scrunched in either discomfort or pain, but he was at least unmoving and presumably asleep if the way he hadn’t moved when the door opened was any indication. Roy popped open the bottle of small red tablets he’d brought along with him, shaking three out into his hand. He handed one to Al. “Here. Theoretically, he could take two but I’m not sure how the dosages work out with his automail, so we’ll start with one and see if it’s working. If he’s not a little better in an hour, we’ll give him another.”
“Right,” Al agreed, going to rouse Ed.
Roy, meanwhile, grabbed a cup from the kitchenette, filled it with water, and made for the bathroom. This time, he didn’t knock, hoping Becca was at least dozing and not wanting to disturb her if he could help it. Despite that, when he poked his head in, tired gray eyes stared back at him. The girl looked exhausted even though Al had relayed that she’d been sleeping on and off all day, and she’d curled up in the steam-filled bathroom, nose tucked into her knees. Recognition flickered in her gaze as she took him in, and once it clicked, her eyes rapidly widened and she was quick to try and stand.
“Colonel Mustang, sir,” she said, leaning heavily on the wall. “What-”
Roy winced. Maybe he should have predicted that she’d immediately try to pretend everything was fine in front of him. From his own experiences with his former instructor and the bits and pieces he’d picked up from Becca’s behavior, he didn’t figure that the Quicksilver Alchemist was one to accept sickness as an excuse.
“At ease, Illusion,” he said lightly. “We’re both in pajamas. No need to be so formal.”
For the first time, she seemed to actually inspect him, distrustful expression faltering when she took in the relaxed sweatpants and t-shirt he slept in. “What’re you doin’ here?” she said slowly.
“Al called. He was worried about you two.”
“‘S Ed alright?” she asked immediately, alarm making her straighten up.
Stupid, self-sacrificial kids, Roy thought ruefully. Of course, her mind would jump to Edward, heedless of her own illness. If there was one thing Ed, Al, and Becca all unerringly had in common, it was the fact that each of them sometimes carried a disturbingly low sense of self-worth. “He’s fine, Al’s giving him medicine. He said he didn’t like the sound of your breathing so much either, so I’ve got some for you too.”
“‘M breathing fine,” she grumbled, abruptly slouching over as Roy approached.
“Yes, that would be because you’ve been in a steam room for fifteen minutes. Anyone would be breathing great in here. We need to get you breathing better outside the steam room.”
She gave him a dirty look, but took the tablets when he offered them and swallowed them dry without flinching.
Roy’s gut twisted uncomfortably. So far, Becca had sprung from fear upon his appearance to apprehension when he’d tried to calm her down, and settled on this dazed acceptance, lacking in a comfort as small as water to take a pill with. He filed that particular habit away to discuss with someone– maybe Riza or Maes– before bringing it up to Becca herself, then gestured for her to sit back down, though he pointed toward the toilet seat rather than the floor again. “Five more minutes in here, then we’ll see about getting you back into bed.”
“Mmm… whatever you say,” she agreed, dropping her head toward her chest and closing her eyes once more. A part of Roy wanted to try to move her– that angle couldn’t be good for her breathing, could it? Hearing Hawkeye’s calming, even tone through the door, he told that part of himself to can it and stepped back into the main room.
Ed was sitting up. He was flushed with fever, obvious even in the low lamplight, and sweat had pasted his bangs to his forehead. Quite frankly, he looked about ten times worse than he had in the office earlier. Was that normal progression? Should he be concerned by how quickly the two sick teenagers seemed to have sunk in twelve measly hours? Still, Ed levelled a defiant glare at Roy across the room, though he’d apparently kept enough of his wits about him to avoid glaring at Riza. “The hell are you doing here?” he managed to say before Al shoved a thermometer in his mouth and the infamous Fullmetal Alchemist’s angry stare turned to his brother.
“Trying to keep you brats out of the hospital,” he fired back. He shot Riza a grateful look, assuming the thermometer had come from the bag of supplies she’d left on the low coffee table.
His lieutenant raised an eyebrow at him, then went back to questioning Al on any further developments from the day. “Has there been any vomiting?”
“Becca hasn’t really eaten much to throw back up,” Al said, wringing his hands. “And Brother ate lunch, but couldn’t keep it down. I figured I should hold off on any dinner.”
“I brought some things they might be able to handle,” Riza reassured. “The colonel will go heat up some soup while you and I get them a bit more comfortable.”
“I will?” Roy asked, then quickly pivoted when the full strength of Riza’s unimpressed gaze fell on him. “I mean, yes. Yes, I will.” He promptly took the cans Hawkeye handed him and went to do exactly that. That was probably the best course of action for the moment anyway. It was highly unlikely that Edward or Rebecca would be able to relax if he hovered even in their general area. Hell, sometimes they didn’t even let their guards down around Riza. But it wasn’t fair to abandon Alphonse to deal with the problem on his own, so the kids would just have to suck up the presence of two adults. Roy supposed that making himself as scarce as possible while still being around was the best compromise they’d get. As he bent over a hot plate provided in the kitchenette, he heard Al cajoling his brother into placing some of the cold rags on his automail ports while Riza presumably retrieved Becca, if the sound of the shower shutting off was anything to go by. By the time the canned soup had warmed up enough, Hawkeye had joined him, carefully angling herself away from the beds as he poured soup into two bowls.
“I don’t think they need a doctor yet, but I don’t like it,” she said, low enough that neither of the teens in question should have been able to hear her. “Automail doesn’t do the body’s natural defenses any favors, and neither does near-constant isolation from peers in one’s childhood. Both of them likely have weakened immune systems.”
“I know,” Roy murmured back, his mouth twisting in displeasure before he could stop it. And as he said it, he realized he had known, had known since Al had called him, perhaps even since that afternoon, that anything worse than a cold would probably hit these two worse than it would others their age.
“We should take shifts,” Riza advised. “One of us needs to go into the office, but since I know you won’t get any work done without me there, I’ll do it.”
Roy hummed in agreement. “You get a few more hours of sleep then. Once they’re awake, they’ll be aware enough of themselves that Al and I should be able to monitor even if I’m tired.” Glancing down at the twin bowls of soup, then over his shoulder at the beds where Ed and Becca were dozing, he proposed, “Maybe you should head home now if you want any meaningful sleep.”
His lieutenant mirrored him, looking over her own shoulder, then transferred her gaze to meet his, looking at him as if he were the stupidest man to ever walk the Earth. “I’ll make sure they eat, then I’m sleeping on the couch. God only knows what you’d do if you were the only capable adult here and they did need a hospital.”
Roy scowled, but didn’t argue. Truth be told, it was comforting to know Hawkeye would be there if he needed her. He picked up both bowls and made his way over to the space between the beds. “Right then, brats. I want at least half of this bowl gone before you can go back to sleep.” Both made childish sounds of protest, but Roy paid them no mind. “At least half, preferably with slow bites so there’s less of a chance of someone puking. That’s an order.”
As expected, Becca caved first, sitting up and rubbing her eyes with the too-long sleeves of the sweater she slept in. “You know, most COs leave their subordinates alone when they’re sick,” she said, her bottom lip poking out in what seemed to be an unconscious pout.
“Yes, most aren’t as nice as I am, coming to check on you at 3 am and making you soup,” Roy replied lightly.
Rebecca stared listlessly at the meager meal once he’d placed it in her lap, then declared, “‘M not very hungry.”
That, at least, roused Edward. His metal arm shot out expectantly until Roy handed over the second serving. With a pointed look at Becca in the other bed, he took a few sips and leaned back against his headboard. Becca watched him, took a shaky breath, then seemed to steel herself and swallowed down a few mouthfuls of her own. Roy watched the strange ritual and tried to pretend he wasn’t. He turned on his heel instead and returned to the coffee table and sofa where Al was helping Riza with a few spare blankets and pillows. This was apparently enough to draw Ed and Becca’s attention to the area as well, though, and Ed was quick to protest, “We don’t need a babysitter. We’re not ten ,” in that derogatory tone only a fourteen-year-old could use when referencing ten-year-olds.
“You need an adult,” Riza said, leaving no room for argument. “Al needs a break. If you’d like for one of the others to come by, we can discuss that, but right now, it’s either us or a hospital.”
Ed blanched; whether it was due to Hawkeye pulling the ace out of her sleeve by mentioning Al or the threat of a hospital Roy couldn’t say. Regardless, he shut his mouth, slouching into his blanket. Becca watched the exchange carefully, but said nothing, instead placing her bowl on the bedside table and curling back up on her side.
“Go back to sleep, Fullmetal,” Roy said, dropping into one of the chairs from the dining table. “By the time you wake up, I’ll probably be asleep. You can try to put my hand in a bowl of warm water or something.”
—
The longer Roy sat, watching over the sick pair as they slept, the more worried he got. After Hawkeye had set off for the office, Al offered to take over, but Roy couldn’t bring himself to sleep once he’d noticed Ed beginning to twitch restlessly. Becca awoke at a reasonable hour, sitting up in bed with a few chesty coughs, but Ed’s gold eyes remained firmly shut as his complexion got redder and redder. Roy managed to coax the thermometer under his tongue and hummed discontentedly.
“Is… is he okay?” Rebecca asked timidly.
“Still not hot enough that we have to get help, but his temp’s higher than it was,” Roy said, more to himself than either of the conscious kids in the room. “I think Hawkeye brought a fever reducer. Alphonse, if you can get him awake enough to take another pill, we can try that.” He turned to Becca. “You’ll take one too.”
Ed could barely be roused enough to swallow his pills and Becca’s medications undoubtedly increased her drowsiness, so once they were both settled, the dorm room went quiet. Roy flipped idly through a newspaper that had been left out, finding an untouched crossword puzzle to entertain himself while Al went back to one of his books. Roy almost managed to get comfortable in his stiff chair, only to jump when Ed let out a weak, “Al?”
In an instant, Al had crossed the room, bending over his brother to examine him. Roy himself had gotten to his feet without realizing.
“Alphonse,” Ed wheezed out. Covered in sweat, he still appeared to be asleep, not reacting to Al’s presence by his bedside as he continued to mumble. “Al, don’- don’t leave, I’ve got you-”
“I’m right here, Brother,” Al said, voice wavering even as he clearly tried to keep calm. Roy moved over to the beds; what he wanted to do, he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t feel right to just observe. He was at least able to put one hand up, stilling Rebecca, who’d jolted awake at the commotion and looked like she was about to try and climb out of her own bed.
Ed managed to pry one eye open, gaze hazy, and quickly looked away upon seeing the armor. “No, no, no,” he almost whimpered. “No, ‘m sorry- don’t go-”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Al assured.
“I didn’t mean to,” Ed said. “Didn’- didn’t mean to.”
This version of Ed– eyes clouded, quiet instead of abrasive– threw Roy uncomfortably back to that day in Resembool, to the child in a wheelchair within whom he’d for some reason seen a soldier. Al, in a voice just as shaky as it had been over two years ago, tried to comfort him. “I know, Brother. Everything’s okay.”
Roy grabbed the cup they’d been using for pill water and hurried to refill it. Al seemed to get the message and gently urged Ed to sit up just enough that he wouldn’t choke when Roy thrust water into his hands.
“Drink, Fullmetal. You’ll feel better.”
Becca looked on fearfully. “Are you sure we don’t need a hospital?”
Roy, admittedly, wasn’t sure of anything at the moment, but saying that as the only adult in the room simply wasn’t an option. “If the fever doesn’t break after this, we’ll call,” he said. Ed tried to put the water aside without finishing it, but Roy pressed it firmly back into his grasp. “Drink.”
“Gotta- gotta talk t’ Al,” Ed slurred. “Colonel- I didn’t mean-”
“I know. He’s right here, Edward,” Roy said, using the boy’s name to try and pull him out of his spiral and simultaneously trying to ignore the desperation to be understood in his tone. “You have to drink so you can get back to work tracking down the Stone.”
Ed took a shaky breath, but drank the rest of the water in one go. Roy took a moment to pray to whatever was listening that he wouldn’t throw it right back up, then moved out of the way to allow Al to maneuver him back on his back.
“Alright, his temperature was at 38.6 degrees just now. If it’s not lower in an hour, then we’ll take more drastic measures,” he instructed. He picked his way over to the couch Riza had slept on and lay down. He hated to leave Al alone to deal with it, but Ed’s fever was technically rising, and God forbid Roy try to drive a car in the state he’d found himself in, low on sleep and high on stress. “Wake me up the second you need me.”
He drifted off into uneasy sleep, only waking naturally a few hours later. When he sat up, he first looked to Al, still sitting on Ed’s bed. He waved, flashing a thumbs-up. More surprisingly (though really, not that surprising), Becca had wiggled into the bed as well. Plenty flushed in her own right, she was clearly dozing, but sitting up against the headboard with Ed’s head in her lap, one hand buried in his hair.
“I’ve been checking their temperatures every hour,” Al said proudly. “Becca’s has been pretty consistent, but Brother’s is starting to go down.”
“And I suppose there’s no harm in the two of them being that close in proximity since they both caught the same thing,” Roy said, rolling his eyes.
“I think it’s been helping them sleep,” Al added with a note of fondness.
Roy crossed the room, finally giving in to the annoying urge to press the back of his hand onto the kids’ foreheads that had been plaguing him since the day before. Definitely still warm, but now Becca had overtaken Ed’s fever. “It looks like that might have been the worst of Fullmetal’s. Illusion… too soon to tell.”
Not long after, Hawkeye arrived with lunch and an armful of paperwork for Roy. She took charge again at once, getting Ed and Becca up while Roy went to dole out two servings of what looked like some kind of leafy salad for the kids and reheat the sandwiches she’d brought for the adults. When he returned, Ed seemed… not quite like his usual self, but definitely more alert than he’d been a few hours ago, taking his serving with a wordless, annoyed look at Roy’s continued presence. While not with his typical vigor, he at least didn’t hesitate to dig in. Becca, on the other hand, stared dubiously down at the meal.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said.
Ed paused, glancing at her in concern. “You alright, Bex? Is it-”
“No,” Becca said immediately. She shot him a warning glare, though it lacked its usual stoniness. “I just don’t feel well.”
An understanding passed between them, one Roy found himself less than thrilled not to be privy to, though why he suddenly cared so much about the whims of two particularly secretive teenagers was beyond him.
“You need the nutrients,” Riza said gently. “They’ll help you heal faster.”
Rebecca made an unhappy sound, but finally started on her own lunch. The rest of Riza’s visit went off without a hitch and she made sure to leave a healthy threat with Roy to finish his paperwork before returning to the office. Ed laughed. Becca did not.
In fact, Becca clambered back to her own bed and curled up without another word, hiding her face in the blanket and going back to sleep while Roy cleaned up lunch. Ed, on the other hand, definitely looked to be on the up and up, chatting more animatedly with Al than he’d been up to since he’d been sick. He was still pale, but his eyes had regained their normal awareness, and he even cracked a few smiles while talking to his younger brother, who, in Roy’s opinion, seemed over the moon to have a coherent conversation with him again. When a few verbal barbs were fired his way, Roy smirked and returned in kind. Ed didn’t mention whether or not he remembered his distressed words from his fever spell, and neither Roy nor Al brought it up. They managed to get through a few more hours in relative peace when Ed dozed off again.
He and Riza had decided that they’d just sleep when they could until the teens were all back in a functional headspace, meaning Roy took to the couch for a few hours when she came back from work in order to take over sometime around 1 am so Riza could get decent sleep for work the next day.
Of course, the calm from the afternoon couldn’t last. Rebecca had choked down some of the dinner Hawkeye had brought and tucked herself back into bed, only to jolt awake while Roy sat vigil, working on the crossword from the new paper he’d grabbed during a brief walk for some fresh air. Before he could react, she’d rushed to the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door before she retched.
Roy was up at once, moving to- to-
Well, he wasn’t sure exactly what would be the most helpful– what Becca would let him help her with– but he’d be there to do it regardless. He gestured for Al to stay put and headed for the bathroom.
Once he reached her, it became immediately obvious what he’d need to do first. As unobtrusively as he could manage, he moved her dark curtain of curls over her shoulder and out of the way as she dissolved into a coughing fit. Beyond that, though, he was left in the dark. When his military buddies or his sisters had been sick (though those tended to be due to drunkenness, not actual illness), some had wanted the comfort of someone rubbing their back while others had cringed away from any outside touch. Mind occupied debating the best course of action, Roy almost missed Becca’s quiet voice between coughs.
“What’s that, Illusion?”
“Jus’,” she said faintly, eyes closed. “Jus’ give me a sec…”
“No rush,” Roy said, vaguely confused.
“I c’n fix it, hol’ on,” Becca said listlessly. “Sorry, let me-”
Oh.
Roy supposed that he should have predicted this. He’d already assumed Benedict Harper was no big fan of sick days– obviously, Rebecca would fall back into placating him , another commanding officer looming over her at her weakest.
As was quickly becoming one of the only useful things Roy could think to do in this increasingly weird scenario, he filled a cup from the tap, then knelt down next to her. “Nothing to fix, Rebecca.”
“No, no, I gotta-” she protested as he maneuvered her head enough to take a drink. He took the opportunity to feel her cheek, unsurprisingly warmer than it had been a few hours ago. She frowned at him, her head dropping sideways to regard him with a sort of tired curiosity. “Mustang? What’re you doing here?”
Her passive, not-quite rejection of his presence made that protective urge rumble to life again. He urged her to take a few sips of the water, trying to think of a response that wouldn’t make things worse. “Just making sure you don’t choke on your own vomit, Illusion.”
Becca’s confused frown twisted into something more familiar: a tiny, annoyed pout.
Roy smirked at the slight sign of personality. “You finished?”
“Yes,” she said, rolling her eyes and leaning against the wall. “But I think I’d rather just stay here.”
“Nope, come on.” He got his hands under her arms and hauled her up before she could argue. He set her on her feet, but wrapped an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright. “Pills again, then back to bed.”
Edward snuffled, slowly sitting up as they reentered the bedroom. “Y’alright, Bex?” he slurred.
“Everything’s fine, Fullmetal,” Roy whispered once it became clear that Rebecca wasn’t planning on answering. “You should take some more meds too, while you’re awake.”
“Whatever, Bastard,” Ed said, his bright, teasing grin shining in the moonlight. “You’d think you were worried about us.”
—
Luckily, that bout turned out to be the worst of it. Both Rebecca and Ed had regained enough coherence to insist they were fine to be left alone for at least the workday.
(When Roy and Riza returned that evening, Al dutifully reported that they’d once again slept most of the day as their fevers steadily decreased.)
They brought them one final meal, which both Ed and Becca managed to eat without issue. It was kind of… nice, Roy admitted to himself, sitting there while the kids laughed wheezily. Maybe because the boy still looked on the wrong side of pathetic, but he didn’t feel the need to return any of Ed’s jabs and instead just raised a teasing eyebrow whenever one flew his way. He met Riza’s eye while the teenagers squabbled, and she shot him a barely-there smile as the worry over Ed and Becca they’d both felt but neither had voiced finally melted away.
By the time night fell, both teens had worn themselves out and fallen back asleep. Al assured them he could handle things from there as Roy and Riza reorganized the supplies they’d brought into the kitchenette.
“And it’s probably best they ride out the rest on their own,” he pointed out, shifting a little guiltily. “No offense, sir, it’s just-”
Roy hummed, his good mood faltering at the thought of leaving before Ed and Becca were properly back on their feet. “I understand. I’m feeling pretty fortunate that Ed didn’t scream at me at all today. It might be good to exit on a high note.”
“I really do appreciate you two coming to help,” Al said earnestly. “I know Brother and Becca do too, even if they might have a hard time saying it.”
“We know, Alphonse,” Riza said with a gentle smile. “We’d do it again any time. Call us if you need us, alright?”
“I will,” Al said as Roy opened the door for Riza. “Thank you again, Colonel, Lieutenant.”
“Bye, kid. Do me a favor and make sure they know I do need them to edit those reports and hand them back to me, but I’ve got another lead for you three once that’s done.”
Al laughed aloud. “I’ll tell them, sir.”
Roy knew he and Hawkeye lived in the same direction, so it wasn’t surprising when she trailed behind him as they departed the dorm buildings. They walked for a bit, just listening to the busy hush of East City at night, until Riza broke the silence before they said goodbye outside her door.
“We’re allowed to care about them, sir.”
Roy paused, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “You think so, Lieutenant?”
“You do care about them,” she amended. “So do I. We care about everyone on our team.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “They didn’t ask us to care,” Roy pointed out instead. He didn’t say it, but he thought, They might not want us to care. “They asked for a commanding officer to get them leads and keep them busy. Not to hold their hand and feed them medicine for tummy aches.”
“Maybe they didn’t want that, but they’re children,” she retorted. “No matter how much they try to act like they aren’t, or we try to pretend to feel better about it. Maybe they need some people to care about them.”
He had nothing to say to that. Hell, she was probably right. When he truly thought about it (which he pointedly tried not to do, turning to alcohol and paperwork to avoid it), Roy still wasn’t sure exactly what had possessed him to propose this whole idea to Edward so many months ago. Sure, the kid had had a fire in his eyes– he still did– but if the Roy of now could go back, he liked to think he would at least try to come up with another way to get the Elrics access to what they needed, to find a way for Rebecca to keep her family home despite the immense debt levied against it, so he wouldn’t have to lie awake at night, the possibility of those kids being forced into a situation like Ishval, if not by his order then by his action, weighing heavy on his mind. The possibility of losing them to that; physically, yes, but also losing parts of them , the way he, Riza, and Maes had all lost parts of themselves. He’d tried to keep them at arm's length, like that would protect them, and yet they’d wormed their way in anyway, integrating with his team, stubbornly returning to ask for more, bigger, iffier assignments, all for the sake of duty and the pursuit of knowledge, in a way Roy himself just… didn’t have the energy to anymore.
He was scared, he realized rather suddenly. When Al had called, he’d been terrified over something as trivial as the flu.
Something must have flashed across his face, because Hawkeye heaved a heavy sigh and patted his hand. “I can see you need to process some things. Don’t stay up too late. I expect to see you at the office bright and early tomorrow.” She saluted. “Goodnight, Colonel Mustang.”
“I-” He saluted on instinct and she turned over her shoulder, heading up the path to her door. “Hey! Hawkeye, you can’t just-!”
She shut the door firmly behind her.
Roy fumed, then slumped in on himself.
He needed a drink.