Sarcastic Title used to be a filler, but I ended up liking it so much I gave the name to two chapters

Chapter 14

Sarcastic Title; Part 1

As Gordon escorted the ambulance to the hospital, he didn't speak. He didn't know what to say. This kid had watched his little brother get beaten half to death with a wrench, fall fifteen feet onto a cement floor, then get carted off in an ambulance. Ed wasn't taking his eyes off the ambulance. Gordon wanted to check to see if the kid was blinking, but he had to stay focused on the road and keep an eye out for retaliation from Sionis's men.

"Will he be okay?" Ed asked. Gordon could barely hear him over the wailing sirens. "He'll be okay, right?"

"I…" Gordon considered sugar coating it, but Ed didn't look like the kind of kid who'd take being talked down to. "I don't know. I hope so. He's alive."

"I can't lose him, too," Ed whimpered.

Gordon was at a loss for words.

They reached the hospital with no interference from Sionis's men, and Gordon had a feeling they had the Batman to thank for that. When he saw them cart Link out of the ambulance and into the hospital, his winced. Link was paler than he'd been when he'd first been placed on the stretcher. The nasty bruising on his face and arms stood out like an ink stain on paper. Even Ed paled when he saw how precarious Link looked.

"We should get you in through the front door."

"I need to know he'll make it," Ed said, trying to follow the paramedics.

"You might need stitches."

Ed reluctantly let Gordon take him through the front entrance. There were a lot of people in the waiting room. A lot of them were covered in bruises or were holding an arm or supporting a buddy who could barely stand. A lot of them glared at Gordon when he walked in with Ed. Ed noticed Gordon had a hand on his gun and did his best to keep himself between Ed and the men. Ed had a suspicion he knew who was keeping the hospital in business and the patients out of business.

"Fill out these forms," the woman behind the counter said, handing Gordon a clipboard. She didn't even look at him. "A doctor will be with you shortly."

Gordon didn't leave the front desk, but he did position himself so that he was facing the room but could still rest the clipboard on the desk. He was still keeping himself between Ed and the angry looking men.

"I don't know your name."

"Is it necessary?" Ed snapped. "All they're doing is patching me up."

"It's for the record."

"I don't have to tell you anything."

"If you don't tell me, I'll write down Asshat McGee."

"Edward Elric," Ed grumbled.

Gordon silently commended himself for learning something about teenagers after raising his own. "Age?"

"I'm…" Ed paused, thinking hard. "I…"

"Did Sionis hit you in the head? If you're suffering from a concussion, please tell me. I'm trying to help you."

"No, no," Ed brushed him off. "I just don't remember if I'm fifteen or sixteen. I… I don't know if my birthday's passed by yet. The last few years have been… eventful. That's all. It's been hard to keep track of time."

"Alright, fifteen, then," Gordon said. He marked down head injury just to be careful. "Allergies?"

"Lactose intolerance," Ed said after a moment of consideration. "Yeah. Definitely intolerant to lactose."

"Are you actually allergic or do you just hate milk?"

"Sure," Ed shrugged.

Gordon wrote that down, again erring on the side of caution. "Any physical or mental disabilities."

"That's…" Ed paused, rubbing his shoulder. "Alright, that is medical, I guess. Two prostheses, right arm at the shoulder and left let two and a half inches above the knee."

"Really?" Gordon asked, shocked. "They look real."

"Sure, when they're covered. They're made out of metal. Figure they'll see it anyway, might as well be prepared."

Gordon wrote that down and took a good look at Ed's limbs, surprised he couldn't tell. And he was supposed to be a detective.

"How tall are you?"

"Five foot seven," Ed answered defensively.

"Not including your shoes or your hair."

"What's it to ya?"

"They'll measure you anyway."

"Five foot three," Ed grumbled.

"Weight?"

"I dunno, a lot," Ed shrugged. "The prostheses are pretty heavy. About ninety six without the protheses and a hundred and thirty or so with them."

"That is… really heavy."

"It's only about ten pounds more than my actual limbs," Ed shrugged. "Lost eighteen on the leg and about six on the arm, so… no big deal. Shouldn't a picked a fight with a wood chipper." Ed chuckled. "Link likes that one." He frowned. "That, and the garbage disposal."

"How'd you actually lose them?"

"Twelve bears on one unicycle," Ed answered, straight faced. "I didn't see 'em coming. One of them had a machete."

"Real kidder," Gordon huffed. "Any hereditary health issues? Any family members die of heart disease, or cancer, or something?"

"That's none of your business," Ed snarled, growing defensive.

Gordon knew it wouldn't be helpful, but he wrote down 'probably' anyway.

"Take it you don't have any legal guardians?"

"I can take care of myself and my little brother just fine."

"Sure, as long as the mafia doesn't get in the way," Gordon snapped.

"It's not my fault!" Ed almost shouted. "It… it's not…"

"I know," Gordon said. He signed his own name where it said 'parent/guardian signature'. He knew he should have waited for a social worker to be assigned to Ed's case, but it was late and he was tired and Ed was covered in enough blood, dried or otherwise, he could bleeding out and was just too stubborn to admit it.

"When do I know if Link's okay?"

"Just a minute," Gordon said, turning in Ed's papers. "There was a boy who came in a few minutes ago, probably no name, head injuries and multiple broken bones. I'm in charge of the case."

"Fill out these forms," the nurse said. "A doctor will be with you shortly."

"No, I said he's in critical condition and I need to see his papers."

"Fill out the forms."

"Alright, alright, I'll fill out the forms." Gordon grumbled, grabbing the second clipboard and going back to Ed. "And I thought I had a lot of paper work back at the precinct."

"Well?" Ed asked.

"More forms," Gordon waved the clipboard. "Same last name?"

"He… he doesn't have a last name," Ed said. "But, uh… you can just write mine."

"Alright. Age?"

"Nine to twelve."

"Neither of you know how old you are?"

"He's never had a calendar and he doesn't have any family to tell him when his birthday is."

Gordon wrote down ten. "Allergies?"

"Tree nuts. Also, he doesn't like orange juice or potatoes."

Gordon wrote down tree nuts. "Disabilities?"

"Not that I know of."

"Height?"

"Four feet exactly."

"Weight?"

"Around forty, if I had to guess. Never weighed him, just carried him a few times, but I'm pretty good at that kind of thing."

"Elric?" A man opened the door to the rest of the clinic and looked out over the group of patients. He didn't seem to be looking forward to his next patient, but when he saw a kid and the Commissioner answer his call, he relaxed a little.

Ed was only behaving because he figured he'd have a better chance of getting back to Link if he was nice to the doctors. He followed the doctor to an examination room while Gordon stayed in the waiting room and worked on sorting out Link's precarious predicament. Gordon hoped Ed would behave himself.

He was halfway through struggling with Link's form when a nurse came out and beckoned him to follow her through to the emergency room. She led him to where Link lay, hooked up to machines, deathly still, and pale as a ghost. A surgeon was standing at the foot of Link's bed, going through the scant files that had been pulled together not a minute before.

"Uh, is that?" The surgeon saw Gordon and painted to the clipboard he still had in his hands.

"Link's? Yes," Gordon handed him the slightly more updated version of all the information they had on the boy.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Commissioner Gordon. I'm Dr. Grant, I'll be operating on Link."

"What have you done so far?" Gordon asked, looking at Link.

"Nothing, yet," Dr. Grant said. "We're prepping for a full body MRI, which should be done shortly. We'll know more then."

"What do you know now?"

"He's suffered a lot of traumatic injuries all over his body and will definitely need surgery. We're planning on getting everything in one go. Going under the knife is risky for someone his age and in his condition."

"Has he woken up yet?"

"No, still unresponsive. We suspect he's suffered from severe brain trauma. But like I've said, we won't know more until after the MRI. Since his situation is so urgent, that should be done within the next half an hour. I'll be in prep when we get the results so I'll be sure to have one of our best nurses keep you updated."

"Thank you," Gordon sighed. He watched them wheel Link deeper into the hospital and let the nurse guide him to another, smaller waiting room with no one else in it. "Forty pounds," he whispered to himself, sitting in one of the chairs and resting his forehead in his hands. Link looked smaller than forty pounds.

(1)

Half an hour later, another nurse came in with Ed close behind her. The worst of the bruises and cuts on his face left by Black Mask were covered under bandages and wraps, and he was hugging his arms to his chest.

"Any news about the boy?" Gordon asked.

"He's headed into surgery now."

"The MRI results?"

"He has a epidermal hematoma on his optic lobe, caused by impacting with the ground when he fell, five broken ribs, his lungs are punctured in two different places, he has three tears in his large intestine, breaks on both of his arms, twelve broken bones in his right hand, and his right kneecap has been broken into multiple pieces."

"Christ," Gordon hissed.

The color drained from Ed's face

"He'll need surgery for the epidermal hematoma, punctured lungs, intestines, and broken knee. He's in prep now and he'll be on the table in ten minutes."

"So he'll get better, right?" Ed asked. "That means he'll get better?"

"No, I'm sorry. He's still in a coma. It's unclear if he'll ever wake up. Because of the location of the epidermal hematoma, if he does wake up, he'll most likely have a severe vision impairment."

"Oh," Ed whimpered. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"He's also unusually short for his age and is very underweight for his size. He's young, so he may recover, but he's not as healthy as he could be."

"There's nothing wrong with being short," Ed snapped.

"No, not inherently, and not at his age, but like I said, he's very underweight and it's likely his height is a result of being malnourished for most of his life."

"What are his chances?" Gordon asked.

"It's very likely he won't survive the night, and if he does, he probably won't wake up. If he does wake up he will most likely have a moderate to severe disability relating to his head injuries."

"What are the odds of coming out of this okay?" Ed asked, his voice shaky.

"If I had to give it a number, he has about a thirty percent chance of making it through the surgery and an eight percent chance of making it through the week if he does survive the night," the nurse said.

"That's… that's better than zero," Ed said, fighting to remain stubbornly optimistic. "He… he's tough. He'll pull through. He'll be okay," Ed clenched his fists and closed his eyes, fighting back tears. "He'll be okay."

"How long will the surgery take?"

"There hasn't been a case like this before, it's hard to tell. We've planned on it taking longer than twelve hours, but by how much, I can't say."

"Thank you anyway," Gordon said to the nurse.

"I'll tell you if anything changes," the nurse said before leaving.

As soon as the door swung shut behind her, they both resigned themselves to waiting in agony for more news. Ed didn't make it ten minutes before he stood up started pacing like a trapped animal.

"Well, she didn't sugar coat anything," Ed said after a few laps around the room.

"No, she did not," Gordon sighed.

"When are you leaving?"

"Do you want me to?"

Ed stopped pacing and looked at him, dumbfounded. "Don't you have a job?"

"I trust the night watch," Gordon said. "And I don't want to leave you alone."

"What? Afraid I'll hurt someone or some bullshit?"

"No one should be alone at a time like this."

Ed didn't have a response to that, so he continued pacing.

Gordon remembered waiting in this very room for his daughter to come out of surgery. No one had been with him then, and he'd suffered alone, waiting to know if he'd have to burry his own daughter or not. He wouldn't wish that torture on anyone, let alone a boy who'd just been kidnapped and horribly beaten. Ed didn't deserve to be left alone, waiting for his little brother to survive the night.

After a few minutes, a nurse rushed in the room, two large duffle bags in her arms. When she saw Ed, she looked extremely relieved. Ed reacted like he knew her. She said something about being horribly sorry, handed the duffles to Ed, and then had to leave, saying she was on the clock and couldn't stay. Only after she left did Gordon recognize her as the witness who reported Ed and Link's kidnapping nearly two weeks ago. She must have kept their things after they were taken.

They waited in silence after that, but Gordon felt it was enough just to let Ed know he wasn't alone. But two hours in, and Gordon was starting to feel the effects of being awake and on the clock for over twenty hours.

"I'm going to get some coffee," Gordon announced, getting to his feet and stretching. "Want anything?"

"Hm?" Ed looked up from where he was sitting. He shook his head.

"Alright, I'll only be gone for a minute or two."

"Yeah, whatever," Ed shrugged him off, but Gordon convinced himself that his presence eased Ed somewhat.

Gordon followed the signs to the cafeteria and was relieved to find that they had a hot coffee vending machine in one corner. He wasn't sure if he could talk to someone this late at night, even if it meant getting a much needed caffeine fix. He struggled to keep his eyes open while the machine spit oily, black liquid into a foam cup. It looked like swill, and the first sip accompanied it with a bitterness Gordon didn't know coffee was capable of, but he'd survived enough all nighters on worse tasting caffeinated liquids and was satisfied with his drink. He was no stranger to day old coffee.

He was about to go back when his phone rang.

"This is Gordon," he answered.

"Jim, where the hell are you?" Bullock said. "You dropped the kid off at the hospital two hours ago."

"We weren't able to track down any family members because they don't have any," Gordon answered.

"What do you mean, they don't have any family? I've been keeping Vale out of your hair for two hours, man. Two hours."

"I've been busy."

"Oh, you've been busy? You've been busy! Do you know how many reporters are after you right now. It's like a lion made a kill and left it there and now all the hyenas are fighting over the carcass in here!"

"Watching national geographic documentaries again, are we?"

"Don't patronize me, Jim. Can't you just let, I dunno, Bruce Wayne handle it. They're orphans, right? That's his thing, He loves adopting those little orphans, how many is he at now, three, four? He practically collects them!"

"The little one's in surgery, critical condition. It doesn't look like he's going to make it."

"Oh," was all Bullock could say.

"He's ten years old, Harv. Ten. And if he does survive, he'll likely be blind."

"Should I put a guard on Sionis? The kid dies and the older one could be out for blood."

"The kid dies and I'll be out for blood."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Bullock tried to laugh, but even Gordon could hear how shaken he was on the other end. There was a lot of death in their line of work, but when a little kid got hurt, that was when it hit them the hardest. "Look, I'll cover for you here. Don't leave them alone. Sionis might retaliate."

"He's not still at large, is he?"

"No, but he's not back in Blackgate yet, either, so it's still in the air. I'll keep you posted. I'll hold the fort here. You just keep an eye out."

"Will do," Gordon sighed, hanging up. He hurried back to the waiting room.

He didn't think he'd been gone more than five minutes, tops, but when he returned to the waiting room it looked like a tornado had hit. Most of the chairs were toppled over, there were dents in the walls where chairs, side tables, and a lamp or two had impacted. There was even a fist sized hole in one wall. And Ed sat in the middle of it, hunched over, his hands on his knees, fighting back tears. Gordon was just happy Ed was still there and still in one piece.

Gordon didn't say anything. Instead, he picked up a toppled chair from the ground and sat down next to Ed, taking a sip of his coffee and grimacing at the unusually bitter taste. "I hope you're not expecting the janitor to clean up this mess."

"I can fix the walls," Ed sniffled, wiping his face to hide the tears that had escaped his stony façade.

"This isn't your fault."

"Yes it is," Ed hissed, even more bitter than the swill trying to pass as coffee. "I was cocky and I got us into more trouble than either of us could handle. And now Link's going to die because of it."

"You're not the one who hurt him, don't act like you are," Gordon said, more firm this time.

"I'm the one who got him hurt!" Ed shouted back, shooting to his feet and clenching his fists.

"Alright, if you're so convinced, what evidence do you have?"

"Black Mask knew about my alchemy because I used it on a knife when some of his goons mugged us in the street. If I hadn't've shown off, he never would have gone after us in the first place."

"And if Sionis wasn't the worst scum of the Earth, he never would have raised a hand to you or your brother."

"It was a wrench," Ed whispered. "He cuffed me to a post and made me watch as he beat him. If Batman hadn't've shown up, he probably would have started pulling finger nails."

"He's a despicable man who deserves to rot in the deepest pits of hell. You aren't responsible for Sionis's actions."

"No, but I gave him a reason."

"You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"It's not like it could have happened to anyone," Ed said. He pulled up another chair and sat backwards, resting his chin on the back and letting his arms hang limp over the top. "It happened to him because of me and there's nothing you can say that will make that different."

"And there's nothing you can say that will make this your fault."

"It should be me in there, not him. He's only hurt because Black Mask wanted to break me." He hissed the word like it was venom on his tongue. "It should have been me."

"He should have been in Blackgate," Gordon sighed. "All it took was a few guards in his pocket and he's back on the streets. We could do this all night. I should have prioritized recapturing the escaped cons after the this month's prison break, the guards shouldn't have traded good conscience with a heavy wallet, you shouldn't have shown off, and so on and so forth.

There's a little bit of blame to go around for everyone and we could spend years and years listing every little decision that led up to this moment until we get all the way back to first fish that decided to crawl out of the ocean, but that won't change that it's happened and won't help him get through this."

Ed didn't have anything to say to that. He certainly didn't want to admit that Gordon was right, since that would mean admitting he was wrong, but he knew he'd lost that argument. And, honestly, he wasn't too upset about it. So instead, he said, "Your coffee smells like crap."

Gordon laughed. "It tastes like it, too."

"I should probably clean this up," Ed said, getting up.

Ed worked slowly, if only to have something to do to avoid falling down the rabbit hole of blame again. Gordon continued to keep him company, but Ed wouldn't admit he appreciated it. Gordon hadn't seen Ed's alchemy in an everyday setting yet. It was actually impressive when it wasn't being used for destruction.

A hole in the wall that would have taken at least an hour of work to fill and left a visible mark behind was gone without a trace in seconds. Knowing the budget of the simpler things like patchwork in a government funded building, it was entirely likely that the hospital would have just nailed some plywood to the wall or left the hole as is. Lord knew, the GCPD HQ could have used a touching up from Ed's handiwork.

"You'd make a killing as a window repairman," Gordon said after an hour of silence.

"Hm?" Ed asked, looking up from where he was stacking magazines that had fallen after he'd flipped the table they'd been left on. "Oh. Yeah, s'pose. More of a biochemist, though."

"Ever think about a career in forensics?"

"Yeah, actually," Ed said. "Or medicine or something. I just… I just wanted to help people; do the right thing, but…" Ed's thought drifted into silence. "He'll make it." He whispered to himself. "He has to." He wondered if this was how Al felt when he found Ed half dead on the floor.

Thank you for your time. Please favorite, follow, and review. If you're on the app and downloaded the story, please try to find time to favorite, follow, and review the story. I don't get any favorites, follows, or even views for people who download the story on the app and I have no way of knowning you like the story otherwise! I would love to hear from you all!

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