Parental royed stories

scars

Roy's pov

I can still feel them, on occasion, when my sleeve rubs a certain way or when I get stressed enough, I feel like resorting to that. I know I can't, I need to be stronger than this, but it's oh so tempting. I haven't wanted to in years, but suddenly knowing my youngest subordinate, is causing me to lose money and respect, makes it rather hard. I don't like that he gets hurt during every mission either, let alone the times where he lands himself in the hospital. No one needs to know how I sit next to his bedside for hours, slipping into sleep in the early morning and waking just before him, leaving the room to compose myself.

I sigh as I settle into my chair, leaning back and watching the weather for a few minutes. I almost contemplate going back to old habits, but I know exactly what both Hughes and Hawkeye would have to say about that, and I don't particularly feel like being lectured today. My phone rings and I snap back into reality, snatching it from its stand and bringing it to my ear.

"Colonel Roy Mustang, who is calling?"

"...Sir? Can you come to the barracks? Ed, he's not coming out of his bedroom and I don't know what to do, he's not letting me in and I can't help him, what am I supposed to do, Sir, can I... no, that won't work-"

"Al, I'm coming over. Stop panicking and maybe leave for a while, after I arrive. Can you do that? Go to the library or the cafeteria, somewhere that'll help you relax and stop panicking."

"Yes, Sir... Hurry, please."

I hang up the phone and grab my jacket, pulling it on and ignoring my men as I hurry on. I get to my car and start it,  speeding off to the barracks, which are only a few streets away. I enter and head straight for the door, almost running, but not quite. I stop and calm myself, before knocking on the door. It's opened almost immediately, and I pause before walking past the young boy, trapped within the armor. I know he needs help, but he can manage without me, while his brother might not be able to. Al just needs his brother to be better, while Ed -right now, at least - needs someone to look after him and help him out. I set a hand on his shoulder, and he nods, leaving the room and heading somewhere only he knows. 

I sigh and remove my jacket, the over coat following, leaving me in my pants and white button up top. I steel myself and grab some gauze and water from the bathroom, before heading for the bedroom door. I see it's locked and I can't hear anything, so I gently balance the water on one hand, with the gauze resting on my arm, before I unlock it with a bit of heat, that forces the lock to unlock. I can't feel bad, as I quickly head in and wince at the sight of Ed, lying on his bed, staring at nothing, with red running from his wrists. I quickly head for his side, resting on my hip as I gently wash his wrists with my fingers, covering them in water. The water drips onto the blanket under him, but I can't care enough to move them, he needs all of my attention.

I wince as I feel my sleeve catch on one of my old, jagged scars and suddenly one of his hands have a hold of my arm, keeping it right where it is. The cuts are sensitive, even if I haven't done it in years, but the scars, they stay sensitive, because of how often I reopened them or rubbed on them when I was younger. I carefully wrap his wrists, gentle as I can be, considering I'm trying to stop the bleeding, but not aggravate it. I pause once I'm done, but he's still got a hold of my arm, so I simply move everything to my other arm and set it on the nightstand. I feel my sleeve move up a little as I lean, and then it's being shoved up and I can feel the eyes burning into them. I lean back and let him trace my scars, even as I shiver. The temperature has always made them more sensitive, and Ed's room is just a bit chilly.

I know he's figuring it out, why I'm helping as I am, why I got here so quickly, maybe he's even pondering if he can trust me enough to talk about whatever's troubling him. I hope he does, poor kid needs someone to talk to, he's got too much fucking pressure on him, but I can only take so much of it at a time, before he starts to notice. I grit my teeth in anger as I remember why he's got so much stress, because I didn't go against my commander, I obeyed and I didn't repent for it. Maybe if the doctors had survived, then the boys wouldn't have committed human transmutation, and then they wouldn't be feeling like this. Damn it, but I did kill the doctors, so it makes sense to help this young boy. This boy, who is  Colonel Mustang's subordinate, but is so much more to Roy Mustang. But, he would never believe me if he thought I was being nice, but it's what I'm going to do. It's about time I show him Roy and not just Colonel. I trust him enough to understand.