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“Lieutenant! Hold the door!”
Alphonse Elric’s voice is unmistakable, with its echo, but it’s surprisingly accompanied by a metallic ruckus as he hurries towards the office of Colonel Mustang’s personal team. That’s what makes Hawkeye react fast and open both doors wide before even turning to see what’s the matter.
Indeed, Alphonse is carrying Edward in his arms, curled in on himself.
“How bad is it?” she asks without any more formalities, rushing to look at Edward, who curls up tighter, clutching his leg. The flesh one, of course.
There’s a distinct smell in the air. One she knows all too well.
“We — there was an explosion —” Alphonse kneels to the ground to give better access to Edward to the Lieutenant, “and something — a projection —”
“That damned thing didn’t have any business exploding!” Edward yells, which allows Riza to relax. If he’s able to be angry and yell, it’s not that bad.
Her eyes stop on the metal glint of Edward’s automail hand. That kid can withstand a lot more pain than any adult ever has. She better be careful and keep this in mind.
“Explosion, then. Edward, can you let me have a glimpse? Alphonse, why did you come here instead of the hospital?”
“ ‘t’was closer,” Edward replies before his brother, reluctantly unfolding from his injured leg. He hisses as he pulls lightly on his charred trousers to reveal what Riza had suspected as soon as she’d heard the word “explosion”. The fabric is sticking to his calf.
“Could you call a nurse, or something, Lieutenant?” Alphonse asks. “Or take us to the infirmary? We don’t know where it is here in Central Command. I could have tried to find it but… I panicked and…”
Riza raises a soothing hand to tap on the armor. Alphonse didn’t like to see his brother in pain.
The burn seems quite of a wide extent, and she catches Edward’s wrist gently to stop him from peeling more of his trouser leg away from the wound.
“Not this way, Edward. You did well in coming here–”
“ANYONE’S HEARD THAT EXPLOSION?”
Second Lieutenant Havoc barges into the common office, wide eyed.
“Two streets from here, front of the building collapsed. They’re sending any men —”
“Gas leak, surely,” Riza comments without a look at anyone’s face, her eyes still on what she can see of Edward’s leg through his clothes. “Lieutenant Havoc, could you please go fetch the Colonel? He’s in a meeting with Lieutenant-Colonel Messerschmitt. They’re in the map room.”
“But, the explosion — Oh, Fullmetal! Alphonse! Are you hurt?”
“Central Command has enough men to help. Go fetch the Colonel. Tell him it’s an emergency.”
“Right-o, Lieutenant.”
Havoc turns around and leaves, smart enough to close the door behind himself.
They better not let the word that the Fullmetal Alchemist was in the explosion.
Riza looks up at Alphonse, who’s still kneeling on the floor, immobile as a statue, holding his brother who has curled back into a tense, shivering ball.
“Do you mind staying this way until the Colonel arrives, Alphonse? I don’t know where he’d rather have you put Edward.”
“I don’t mind. I don’t get tired or feel pain, remember?”
Riza nods, then turns her eyes back on Edward.
“Speaking about pain, how bad is it, Edward?”
“Not as bad as it looks, Lieutenant.”
“Be honest,” Riza frowns. “The amount of pain you’re in is important to assess the severity of this burn.”
As skewed as your pain thresholds are, she thinks to herself.
Instead of replying, Edward growls and whines.
“Mustang is the last person I want to see right now. Call a nurse, please, Lieutenant.”
“No, Edward,” Riza stands up at once, and walks to the Colonel’s personal office. “For this, you’re better off with the Colonel. Trust me.”
“NOW! This better be a real red alert, because I’ve just made a fool of myself trying to flee from Messerschmitt! And he hasn’t put me in a good mood before either!”
Colonel Mustang pushes the doors to the office, walking his quick long strides, his jacket flowing from his shoulders.
Havoc follows, taking the time to light a cigarette.
“But Messerschmitt’s the most boring man I’ve ever been unlucky to converse with, so I guess I’ve got to thank the universe for little mercies. What have you done again, Fullmetal?”
The colonel stops in the middle of the office, frowning, taking in Alphonse kneeling on the floor, holding Edward, the multiple traces of soot on the armor and the burnt fabric of Edward’s clothes.
Riza can see his nostrils flare. No one has the time to open their mouth before he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“That explosion. Right.” He doesn’t even look at Edward and starts walking again towards his office door. “Alphonse, get up. Come here– wait.”
Riza stands to the side as the colonel stops, frowns again, his hand still on the doorknob, and glances at his desk, then back at the common room.
“Upon reflection…” He turns around, leaving his office door open, rushes to the nearest desk — Havoc’s — and throws everything to the ground in a sway of his arm.
“My desk!” Havoc chokes on his cigarette. “Why—”
“Less important things than on mine. Alphonse, could you lay Edward down here, please?”
“I refuse!” Edward squirms in Alphonse’s arms, crawling as he can towards the armor’s shoulder to avoid being laid on the now bare desk. “What the fuck! Don’t let him touch me!”
“Fullmetal, don’t be silly. We need to take care of this burn.”
“Yes! At the hospital!”
“Fullmetal–”
“Edward!”
Riza’s voice silences everyone, including the colonel.
“Do you trust me, Edward?”
“I trust you, Lieutenant,” Edward says through clenched teeth, then points at the colonel. “But I don’t trust him at all!”
“Well I’ll take my supplies, I’ll leave you to try and convince him, Lieutenant.”
“Supplies?”
“Havoc, help them. Put Fullmetal on your desk, then go fetch as many water bottles as you can carry. And towels, I guess.”
“My desk, my fucking desk,” Havoc growls. His cigarette has disappeared in the meantime, half smoked and tossed aside when he’d whined. He pulls another one between his lips before he leaves the office, still grumbling.
Riza turns back to Edward.
“The colonel knows how to treat burns. Very well.”
“Just cause he burnt himself once–”
“Once,” the colonel comes back from his office, cackling. “If it was only once.” He sets down a relatively small metal case on the desk.
Riza feels a shudder along her spine. Years ago, that case wasn’t as battered, the colours of the army medical supplies logo on it were less faded. She rolls her shoulders. The memory of the pain has faded, too. Most of what’s left is a sense of freedom. And gratitude.
And tense skin.
“Even then, I refuse! He’s not touching me! Take me to the hospital!”
“And then what?” The colonel starts taking various things out of the case, apparently certain Fullmetal will change his mind. “You want to explain what you were doing at the epicentre of that explosion, that was dangerously near Central Command? What were you doing there, indeed?”
“We were looking for a book in a–”
“Don’t tell him, Alphonse!”
“I’ll know soon enough.”
The colonel has unrolled a square of soft cloth, on which he’s put scissors, pliers, and a pile of field wound dressings still encased in brown paper. He pulls a big bottle made of brown glass, shakes the few drops of liquid inside and sighs.
“I’m out of saline.”
Riza steps in.
“Shall I go fetch some at the infirmary?”
“I’m not sure they’ll give some to you, considering they’re probably overwhelmed with casualties at the moment. We’re closer–”
“Closer than the hospital,” Alphonse dutifully completes his sentence.
The colonel frowns, pouts, then clicks his tongue.
“Lieutenant, please call doctor Knox. He’s off duty at this time of day. Tell him I’m out of supplies, saline, especially, and that he’ll be needed at the infirmary once he’s stopped by here.”
“AH YES! Lieutenant, listen to the colonel. Call that doctor.” Edward immediately points at the nearest phone, suddenly reinvigorated.
Riza keeps a straight face as she turns to the phone on her desk, but she can see from the corner of her eye the colonel smirk as he takes out yet some more things from the metal case.
The call to Knox is quick : the doctor was at his door when the phone rang, rushing to see if he could be of any help.
“He’ll be there in no time,” Riza announces to the party of three that is intently looking at her from Havoc’s desk.
“Good. We’ll start in the meantime,” the colonel replies, picking up the scissors. “Alphonse, would you please lower your brother on the desk.”
“I refuse! What are you doing with these scissors? What are you going to cut?”
“Your leg,” the colonel sternly states, opening and closing the scissors in quick motions with a sharp sound. “After all, this way you’ll be even.”
“What the— you arsehole—”
“Cut your leg, with this pair of old scissors that have only ever cut fabric, right here on Havoc’s desk. I’ve seen worse in Ishval. Let’s get on with it.”
Edward is still holding tightly onto Alphonse’s armour, who’s stepped backwards.
“Edward. The colonel wants to cut your trousers to have better access to your wound. For now, he’s only going to clean it.”
“Oh,” Alphonse says, and Riza can’t help but smile at the sound of relief he’s trying very hard to hide. “Of course, the clothes. Come on, brother.”
“I’m going to run water on it as soon as — hah, perfect timing, Havoc.”
Havoc pushes the door, his arms full of water bottles and with a couple of towels he’s obviously snatched from the showers at the closest barracks, with their dark green band reading AMESTRIAN ARMY in yellow letters.
Riza helps Alphonse convince Edward to climb down from his shoulders, and to lie on Havoc’s desk, his leg extended over the towels. It takes only a couple of seconds for the colonel to cut his trouser’s leg, exposing a big, dark red patch on his calf.
The colonel frowns as he looks at it. He’s seen worse indeed, but that burn is extended enough and deep enough, judging by the colour and texture of the skin, bubbling in some parts. Riza herself knows that too well.
“Deep second degree, I’d wager.” He looks at Edward. “Hope so. Lieutenant Hawkeye, could you please bring the bottle of brandy that’s in my special reserve?”
“You don’t think–”
“Do you see any morphine in this case?”
“He’s a kid.”
“That won’t kill him.”
“I’m not drinking brandy.”
“I won’t have you screaming and kicking when I have to be delicate.”
As he says so, the colonel shakes down his jacket, places it neatly on the back of a chair, and starts rolling his sleeves.
“You won’t be delicate because you won’t be touching me. You’re no doctor.”
“Any doctor would do the same.”
“But you’re not one.”
Riza braces herself. This could take hours, or rather, just as long as it would take for Knox to arrive. But something happens.
The colonel sighs, and… withdraws.
“At least allow me to clean it with water until Knox gets there. I swear I’m not going to do anything else. But the faster you start putting water on it, the less painful it’ll be down the line.”
“It’s not that painful.”
“Of course it’s not. Your pain threshold is through the roof, Fullmetal. But your skin is fried enough. If I was to prod it, I know exactly where you’d feel pain, where it’d be oddly dull, and where you’d feel nothing. And the absence of pain is not a good sign.”
Edward falls silent. Even he could feel the change in the colonel’s voice. After a short while, Edward huffs and turns his head to the side.
“Alright. Do what you want with that water.”
Havoc hands one of the water bottles to the colonel, who pours a thin stream of liquid over Edward’s burn — tilting the bottle as little as possible.
Edward’s reaction is immediate. He pulls his leg up, out of the way, and hisses. The colonel obviously expected this, because he doesn’t even blink, and tilts the bottle back to stop the stream.
“Fuck, bastard, you didn’t need–”
“Fullmetal. Put your leg back down. I wish I had saline, but in the meantime, we need to clean and cool this–”
“Cool your arse, I’m leaving.”
Edward motions to throw himself off the desk, but everyone rushes towards him.
“Big brother!”
“Fullmetal!”
Alphonse catches his arms from the back, the colonel catches his feet — Riza sees him avoid a nasty kick from the automail one.
“Edward!”
Riza wanted a stern tone, but seeing that vicious blow makes her sound almost outraged, and maybe that’s what stops Edward from thrashing against the others’ grip. He looks at her with wide golden eyes.
“This is the only time I will ever ask this of you, Edward.” She finds her stern tone back, if a little irritated. But what she has to say tears her heart into pieces.
“Stop acting like a child.”
Edward looks down, and swallows audibly. He does very well look like a child, not like his brother who is now stone still. Edward is a child, they’re both children, and it’s a fact Riza tries to keep in mind most of the time. But they’ve also been involved in things no child should ever be, and have, Edward especially, become way too used to putting their life on the line for the sake of others.
Like someone else she knows.
Seeing Edward crumble — internally, mostly, this child doesn’t let out much, and that is part of the problem — she feels she needs to explain more. Drive the point further.
Except the colonel is faster than she is, and not as soft as she would be.
“The infirmary is now busy with casualties from the explosion that you caused, and even then, they are mediocre at best at treating anything worse than light injuries, especially burns. There’s no doctor on site, only nurses who can help with quick first aid, or who will send you to the hospital. You decided to come here, and pulled me from an important meeting. Now let me do what I can do.”
Edward clams up, his eyes dark once again. Riza curses the colonel inwardly, and takes a pleading tone.
“Let the colonel do what he knows to do, Edward. He just wants to help, and he can help better than any of the nurses in the infirmary for this. If you need any more incentive, long ago, he–”
“Hawkeye,” The colonel cuts her off, raising a disapproving — no, not disapproving ; something else — eyebrow at her from over Edward’s legs.
Riza doesn’t heed his warning, and goes on. She takes Edward’s hand, briefly.
“I have suffered extended burns in the past. The colonel took care of them — of me, when it happened.”
“Ishval,” The colonel quickly states in a strained voice when Edward’s suddenly crazed stare drifts towards him.
Technically, it’s not a lie.
“When I say I trust him, it’s not to placate you.” Riza goes all the way and places her hand on Edward’s shoulder, just above where Alphonse is still holding him. Their eyes cross once again, and if the change in his features means anything, he must have seen something on her face too. “It’s true. Especially for this.”
Edward finally relents, and lets his leg rest over the now damp towel once again.
“Attaboy,” the colonel breathes, but he still looks shaken. He glances up at Riza, who puts everything she can’t say in her own look. He blinks, and has a sharp nod. He opens the bottle once again, and his hand is steady when he pours more water over the burn.
“How did Hawk–”
Edward’s no doubt dangerous question — asked through clenched teeth — is nipped in the bud when there’s a knock on the door, and a sinister looking man enters the office through the door held open by Havoc.
Riza had forgotten the second lieutenant’s presence.
She hopes he didn’t listen, or will just file what she said away. He doesn’t look anything out of the ordinary, and goes back to aligning water bottles and keeping towels at the ready for the colonel.
“Ah! Doctor Knox!” The colonel straightens up with a smile towards the lean, bespectacled and frowning man that approaches him, Alphonse and Edward. “Did you bring the saline?”
“Mustang,” Knox acknowledges him with a nod, and bends over Edward’s leg, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Nasty one. Second to third degree. What did you do this time?”
“It’s not me.” The colonel answers flatly — a little too flatly, to Riza’s mind. “Fullmetal is very good at injuring himself.”
“I was in a—”
“The gas leak explosion,” Riza supplies.
“Right,” Knox says, with a side glance at her first, then at the colonel. “Here’s your saline,” he says, producing two big brown bottles from a cloth strap bag that he puts on Riza’s desk. “I also brought some tulle gras dressings, I bet you might be running low on those.”
“I bought some new ones after the last time Havoc played with his lighter, but thank you, there’s never enough.”
“Second Lieutenant Havoc?” Alphonse chimes in, and Riza could almost have forgotten he was there too, if he wasn’t that big. “Did you burn yourself playing with your lighter? How did it–”
Havoc doesn’t reply. He has a little laugh, raises his eyebrows and shoulders at the same time as he produces a small sound with his mouth, and goes back to leaning against a desk, waiting to be of use.
Riza shares an appreciative look with Havoc. The kids don’t need to know how awry the last mission the colonel had been sent on had gone. It’d turned out okay in the end, that was all that mattered.
Knox lines up his dressings next to the ones the colonel had taken out of his battered metal case. Then he stretches, and his spine pops loudly while he plants his fists on his hips.
“Well! You’re settled. I’ll go and give a hand at the infirmary, then.”
“Wait,” Edward cries out. “You’re the doctor here! Not him! Don’t let him–”
“I’m a forensic pathologist, kid,” Knox looks down at him with a scowl. “I deal with dead bodies. All I’ll be doing at the infirmary is assess the severity of injuries. You’re in far better hands with Mustang than with me.”
That isn’t necessarily totally true, but it seems Knox had immediately clocked the atmosphere of the room. One of the reasons he’s such an important asset to them. No questions asked, ever.
“But–” Edward winces again.
“No buts, kiddo. I’m needed elsewhere. Let the man work, you’ve already stalled enough that it might have worsened your chances at full recovery. The earlier a burn is treated, the better the outcome.”
“It’ll leave a scar for sure, still,” the colonel sighs.
“Ed,” Alphonse leans over him. “Let the colonel help you, please.”
“Please, Edward?” Riza squeezes his shoulder again.
“It’ll be over sooner than you think,” Havoc adds from his perch on Riza’s desk.
The colonel says nothing, but looks intensely at Edward, who apparently finally understands it would look pretty bad now if he kept thrashing.
“Alright,” he says with a pout, and resolutely turning his head away from everyone — a great feat, given how surrounded he is.
“Good. I’ll leave you be,” Knox shakes the colonel’s hand.
“Thank you, Doctor. Feel free to stop by later when the fuss at the infirmary is over.”
“We’ll see. Lieutenants. Kids. Be well.”
The colonel waits for the door to close behind Knox to turn back to Edward. Riza stayed by the kid’s side, holding his shoulder. It’s not pain she can feel angers Edward. It’s fear, and pride. A lot of pride. And loathing for the colonel. Of course.
The colonel has picked a smaller, clear bottle of rubbing alcohol, and washes his hands thoroughly with it, letting it dry without wiping it afterwards.
“Havoc’s going to run saline over the wound, now. It might tickle a little more, but it’s better suited for the human body than just plain water. Then I’ll take the pliers you see there and pull out any residual pieces of fabric that might have melted into your wound. Once that’s done, we’ll see if it needs unbridling or if I can just bandage you up and call it a day. Is it fine for you, Fullmetal?”
Edward shrugs, his face resolutely hidden away against Alphonse.
“Colonel,” the latter asks. “What’s unbridling?”
“It’s removing dead tissue,” the colonel dutifully answers as he picks up tiny pliers and nods at Havoc, who approaches with the saline.
The lieutenant knows what to do, and pours with the same restraint as the colonel had just before.
“Right, enough,” the colonel mumbles, barely audible, and gets ready to pick at the wound.
“Wait,” Riza stops him, remembering as Edward starts to tense under her hand. “The brandy.”
“I’m not drinking brandy. Why didn’t you ask your Knox to bring morphine or laudanum?”
“Cadavers don’t need pain relievers.” The colonel growls, but gestures towards Havoc to put the saline down and get the brandy. Now that he’s disinfected his hands, he can’t touch much in fear of infecting his patient.
“They don’t need tulle gras either.”
“Knox knows me, and he’s some kind of overkill at times.”
“Still. I am not drinking your filthy–”
Finally, the colonel gets ticked off — probably what Edward wanted all along. He can’t do nothing else with his hands than pointing at him, and he does, furiously.
“Now you listen, little imp. It’s a very fine old brandy, aged in oak barrels that give it a distinctive vanilla tinge, that was given to me by someone very dear and that I usually keep for special occasions. It definitely pains me to waste it on such an ingrate kid as you, Fullmetal, but it is what it is, and you are going to drink the glass that Havoc is going to hand you, or you will leave this office sporting more burns than you entered with.”
There’s a short silence, only perturbed by the sound of Havoc pouring a generous measure of brandy into a glass he’d gone to fetch in the colonel’s office.
Edward takes the glass with a pout that morphs into a wince as he smells its contents. Then, he seems to decide something, and downs half the glass in one go.
He starts coughing immediately after, eyes filling with tears.
“Big brother!”
“It burns!”
“It’s alcohol, idiot! What did you expect!” Even Havoc is shocked, but the colonel is just laughing out loud.
“Well that face is worth wasting my fine brandy on you, Fullmetal! Now finish your glass and let’s get this done, for fuck’s sake!”
Riza pats Edward’s shoulder, but she gives the colonel a dark look. Don’t push it.
Edward shakes his hand and pushes the half drank glass back into Havoc’s hands. The lieutenant shoots an inquisitive glance at the colonel, who shrugs. Havoc seems tempted to drink the glass, but decides against it — probably for the best — and goes to place it on the colonel’s desk before coming back to hold the saline.
“Now, Fullmetal, I’m going to get to work. Let the brandy soothe you once it’s stopped burning, and don’t move. Okay?”
Riza has to squeeze the answer out of Edward.
“Okay.”
The colonel is fast. He picks up the tiny bits of Edward’s trousers that have adhered to his exposed dermis in no time, and Edward almost doesn’t flinch. It’s both a testament to the kid’s pain resistance as it is to the colonel’s dexterity. Or the brandy, maybe.
Riza watches as her superior regularly asks for a wash of saline from Havoc, but apart from that, he keeps a focused silence. As usual when she watches him patch someone’s burns up — it doesn’t happen often, but sufficiently that he keeps the metal case at hand — she feels queasy, pain stabbing at her back, scars pulling at her skin. There’s pins and needles behind her knees, and in her lips. She bites them, as she bites the idea of pain.
He’d only been gentle. Deftly diligent, and silent, just like now — apart, back then, from recurrent sniffles and audible swallows. She couldn’t see his face. Now, he looks determined, concentrated on his task, but rather emotionless.
It helps her. It’s just a small wound. Edward will be fine.
She is fine. The colonel took care of her, and he’s taking care of Edward.
Riza breathes out. She has not realized until now how the situation had tensed her; even if it’s a common one.
It’s always like that.
She almost startles when the phone in the colonel’s office rings.
“Hawkeye, can you get it, please?”
It takes her a whole second to shake herself and go take the call.
“Colonel Mustang’s office, First Lieutenant Hawkeye.”
“Lieutenant-Colonel Hotchkiss. I need to talk to the colonel immediately.”
“Colonel Mustang is unavailable for now. Can I take a message?”
“A message? Lieutenant, haven’t you heard? There was an explosion within the HQ close perimeter–”
“I and the Colonel himself are aware of that.”
“Then what are you waitin–”
“I just told you, the colonel is unavailable. He however trusts the rest of Central Command and his direct subordinates to take care of this matter swiftly and efficiently. He sent for a spare doctor to go help deal with the suspected influx of casualties at the infirmary. Doctor Knox must have arrived there by now.”
“Right, but wouldn’t he want to inspect the premices–”
“In due time. First, we have to secure the perimeter, and take care of any collaterals. We trust you and your team for this, Lieutenant-Colonel. You seem to have taken matters into your own hands. Can we trust you, Lieutenant-Colonel?”
“Of course, but–”
“Great. Colonel Mustang will be with you shortly.”
“Uh. Copy that.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant-Colonel.”
Riza hangs up carefully, and walks back to her place by Edward’s side, next to Alphonse.
“Hotchkiss,” she states.
The colonel glances up swiftly, and has a curt nod to thank her, without a single comment — it’d probably have been a curse, anyway. Hotchkiss has been directly under Mustang’s orders for less than a couple of months, and he’s already getting on the colonel’s nerves.
The colonel returns his attention to his work and frowns over the wound, checking there’s no missed bits, and probably already planning the next step. Indeed, after picking up something so minuscule that she can’t see it in the pliers, he withdraws, taking in a deep breath, as if he’d held it in while working.
“Alright, it’s clean. Now I’m sorry, Fullmetal, but it’ll need some very light unbridling. If you don’t move and let me work properly, though, you won’t feel anything worse than what I did just now. Dead tissues don’t feel pain — this is why I said no pain is bad.”
Riza represses a wince. It means the burn is worse than the colonel expected at first, or he’d have left it alone.
She doesn’t remember the moment he did it to her own wounds ; her memories of this moment are patchy at best, and she was focusing all her attention on Roy at all times to keep the pain at bay as much as she could.
But, in a move that she knows will be taken as out of character, she looks away from the colonel — Roy — she can’t look at him, right now. Instead, and it’ll probably read as more normal, she focuses on Edward as he nods. He’s sweating a little, his skin whiter than before. But his breathing is slow, calm. Either the brandy took effect, or he’s just too used to pain to let anything else show.
The colonel shifts the pliers to his left hand, and picks scissors with the right. He’s left all confrontation and bragging aside, and speaks in softer tones than usual.
“Ready, Edward? I’ll go fast. It’s just a couple bits of charred epidermis.”
“I’ve gone through worse, remember?” Edward says slowly, and raises his automail leg.
“I know,” the colonel says, and with that, he sets to work.
Edward only hisses once, and Riza squeezes his shoulder again.
“I’m done,” the colonel wipes his forehead with the crook of his elbow, ditches the pliers and scissors, and motions for Havoc to open a dressing for him. “No, not this one. The tulle gras.”
“What is it?” Alphonse asks again, as if he was trying to file everything that the colonel was doing to Edward for future reference.
A smart idea, considering his brother’s tendencies.
“It’s a special dressing that doesn’t stick to wounds, keeps moisture in and allows for better cicatrisation,” the colonel answers again, almost with a lecturing tone, as he picks the dressing from its now open package. “Iodine, Havoc, please.”
“It’s going to sting a little,” Havoc warns before he pours the yellow liquid over Edward’s wound, and the kid does more than hissing this time.
“Goddammit, bastard!”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know iodine,” the colonel shakes his head, and slaps the dressing over the wound when Edward tries to pull his leg away. “Havoc, bandage, quick.”
Edward manages to stay relatively still as the colonel wraps his wound tight, and the white crepe immediately becomes yellow with iodine. He wraps a second loser one around it, that stays white.
“That’s it, Fullmetal, you can unclench your teeth, we’re done.” The colonel pats Edward’s knee with a renewed energy. “I’ll give you a bunch of these dressings, and you’ll change them twice a day until next week. It should be better by then. And you can come back and show me how you’re doing.”
Edward tentatively folds his leg, moves his foot, and when the bandages stay in place, he escapes both Alphonse and Riza’s hold and leaps to the ground without as much as a wince.
“Oh!” Alphonse simply says.
“The hell I’m coming. I’ll go and see a real doctor, this time.”
“Do it! And come back with the praise they’ll give you for taking such great care of your wound.” The colonel turns around, not even giving Edward a glance, and starts putting away all his supplies. The old metal case has done its job again today, and it will surely in the future. “I love to get recognition for my uncanny abilities.”
“Don’t get all superior about it, Nurse Mustang.”
“You’re welcome, pipsqueak.”
“How’s the leg, then, Ed?” Havoc asks, now with a saddened look at his damp and devastated desk.
“Better,” Edward reluctantly admits, while Alphonse picks up a dry towel and starts helping Havoc clean.
Riza starts picking up Havoc’s stuff that was thrown to the ground by the colonel, but keeps an eye on both him and Edward.
“Right,” the colonel slaps the case shut and turns back to walk to his office. “Now, piss off, both of you. I want the full, detailed report on what happened with this explosion on my desk first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll go over it together to redact it and choose the right angle to fill your official statement with minimal damage to both your and my reputation.” He stops in the doorway, hand on the doorknob. “Remember I get here at seven. No sleeping in.”
And he slams the door shut.
Havoc glances at Riza.
The colonel almost never shuts the door to his office.
Riza nods, and leaves Havoc, Alphonse, and now Edward to clean the desk.
Before she knocks on the colonel’s door, though, she turns towards them.
“You better go back to your lodgings, rest, and start writing that report as soon as possible, boys. The colonel was not kidding, this is going to be a major case for us in the coming days.
“Yes, Lieutenant!” Alphonse stood up at once. “I’ll put Edward to bed as soon as we’re done helping Second Lieutenant Havoc.”
“Hey, what now, Al? I’m not going to bed–”
“For rest, Ed,” Havoc tried to calm him down. “You don’t have to sleep now. Just rest your leg.”
“And you won’t sleep, because you have a report to file, Edward, understood? We’ll deal with Lieutenant-Colonel Hotchkiss, but you need to back us up on this.”
“Uh… alright, Lieutenant. Will do. Tomorrow, seven. We’ll be there.”
“And if he doesn’t wake up, I will shake him, Lieutenant!”
“Thank you, both. Now, go rest and write up.”
She turns back to the door, and knocks.
A soft agreement answers.
She slides inside the office, and closes the door behind herself.
The colonel has left the case on his desk, without putting it away. He’s standing by the window, looking through it with his hands in his pockets. He has forgotten his jacket in the joint office room — Riza too just notices — and he’s still with his dress shirt sleeves rolled up.
“Colonel?”
“Hm?” He looks up at her, and a small smile blooms for a short while on his lips. Then he turns back to the window.
Great, she thinks, she’s had to subdue Edward and now she’ll have to worm things out of her superior, too.
“Are you alright, sir?”
“Just mentally preparing for the mountain of paperwork we’re going to run into again thanks to these kids,” he says wearily, pulling a hand out of his pocket to mess with his hair. He’s back at the window, and Riza realises he’s probably looking down at the ballet of soldiers running around command because of the explosion.
“I sent Lieutenant-Colonel Hotchkiss to investigate in our name. He was being–”
“Obnoxious, nosy, and stupid, as usual, I guess?” The colonel breathed out a chuckle. “I really wonder what I’ve done for the brass to throw this idiot at me…”
“Do you want the list in chronological order, or alphabetised, sir?” Riza tries to pull him out of his sudden slump.
The surprised look the colonel gives her is almost lost at first, but then he barks a laugh.
“Hah! Touché, Lieutenant. I guess I’m just…”
“Wishing for a conversation with another Lieutenant-Colonel.” Riza offers.
“Brigadier-General, now, and that pisses me off enough,” Roy’s — at that point, she can allow herself to think of him in his first name — tone is more somber than his try at — awfully bad taste — humor demands.
It burns Riza’s lips to ask if that’s all. Because for her, having to patch up Edward might have–
“You know, I think it’s just seeing the kid injured, so soon after Hughes–” Riza was right, and he doesn’t need to finish his sentence.
She walks closer to him, and passing by his desk, she notices a forgotten item. She picks it up and brings it to him.
“Sir?” She calls for his attention, as he’s turned back to the window again. “Might as well not let this go to waste.”
She hands him the half full glass of brandy that had been refused by Edward.
“You think I’m going to drink after the imp?”
“According to the bottle,” Riza looks at it, still waiting on the desk, “it’s forty-five percent alcohol. You’ll be fine.”
“Right. And Hughes wouldn’t want it to go to waste indeed.” He drinks a small mouthful, then asks from over his glass with a little smirk. “Want some? You don’t look so good yourself. Have a little pick-me-up with me, Lieutenant.”
Riza should refuse. But she’s indeed a little off — of course he knows, and he also knows perfectly why.
“If you insist, Colonel.” He smiles and nods as she goes to fetch herself a glass in his cabinet herself. “I think we will definitely need this to handle Hotchkiss.”
He has a low chuckle, the ones that sit primarily in his chest, and that never fails to warm her.
“And the brass.”
Riza sighs. Indeed.
“And the brass," she says as she raises her glass to him, then drinks at the same time as he does.