He woke up confused with the taste of metal in his mouth.
He sat up, blinking and trying to figure out why the hell his head was still pounding. He felt like he'd slept for a year- maybe two. Or lived a lifetime or two while he'd been asleep.
"Morning, Fullmetal." Atkins looked over at him from where he had new interviews and paperwork spread out on his cot.
There wasn't much sunlight filtering through the gauzy curtains and the window, and it had to have been early- Mustang appeared to still be asleep.
Atkins said something else- he might have been asking about how he'd slept- but he couldn't hear him, because at that moment, something in his stomach squirmed and he forgot how to breathe.
Oh fuck oh shit no I don't want this I can't do this.
He retched, feeling stomach acid licking at the base of his throat and staggering out of bed into the bathroom, falling to his knees in front of the toilet again.
A moment later he was puking his guts out, again. He couldn't focus on anything except for the buzzing in his own ears- with every spasm and churn of his stomach, he was afraid he'd feel that terrible movement in his stomach again that set off some primal terror in him...
A rough hand pulled his hair back into a messy ponytail, pulling his head up in the process. They were awkward, uncoordinated hands- there was a smell of unfamiliar aftershave, someone was saying something to him- it was Atkins who was behind him, and he was fumbling and awkward, but at least he was trying to help.
He pitched forward, gagging dryly before his stomach clenched and he vomited so forcefully it came out his nose.
There was static in his head again, and when he was aware of what was going on around him again, he could hear two familiar voices bouncing off the tile of the small bathroom they were in...
"...not normal..."
"...no fever..."
"...I agree..."
He lost track of the conversation, because at that exact moment his stomach decided to wring itself out again, and he was pitching over the bowl with a white-knuckle grip and choking up bile.
He was done. He had to be. His abs were screaming, and he sighed, lowering himself down and letting his cheek rest against the cool tile of the bathroom floor.
He was a sweaty, disgusting mess, but with the worst of the vomiting over, he was becoming acutely aware of the acidic tang of bile and his shredded throat.
"Fullmetal. Hey- sit up for me." Mustang was talking to him, now, and Ed grunted, pulling himself upright.
He must've really looked like shit, because Mustang hesitated for a moment. "You alright? What's going on?" there was a palm being pressed to his forehead, and he was too tired to bat it away.
"I threw up." he said. Because honestly, wasn't it obvious?
"I noticed. What hurts?" Mustang asked seriously.
He shrugged. "Dunno. Stomach, throat- probably from throwing up." He cleared his throat, trying to ignore how raw his throat felt.
"You don't have a fever. But this is the third time you've thrown up in this week and you're acting off..."
There was something moving in this stomach. Something was moving inside him.
His whole body went rigid, instinctively grabbing his stomach and hunching in on himself as anxiety washed over him again.
I can't do this I don't want this what am I going to do?
"Hey! Ed. What's going on. You went pale as a sheet." Atkins was behind them, standing in the doorway of the bathroom.
"I-it's nothing." he said shakily.
"It's not nothing. You look like you're in pain." Mustang said seriously.
"It was just a cramp, I think.". He got to his feet, one hand still resting protectively on his stomach. Really, he just wanted to lay down...
"Right. Well, the morgue is part of a hospital, and you're getting checked out. It's not a suggestion, either." Mustang said simply.
Ed heaved a sigh. "Whatever." Because honestly, he was a little tired of throwing up every other morning since they'd been here too.
Atkins walked them to the waiting room for the walk-in clinic before leaving, telling them he had to swing by his office and get some things but would meet them back within two hours.
The waiting room was somewhat busy. There was a woman who was quite obviously pregnant next to the only two open seats, so they sat next to her. An older man on crutches with a broken leg, and a mother holding a toddler with red-cheeks who was clutching her shirt, obviously suffering from some sort of fever.
They were an odd couple out- Ed in his characteristic red coat and with his hair in a sloppy ponytail and Mustang in his military uniform.
The nurse called back the woman with the toddler first, and they were all left to stare at the crappy wallpaper of the waiting room.
He was still slightly nauseas, and he closed his eyes and tried to focus on taking deep breaths when he heard the woman sitting in the chair next to them gasp, placing a hand to her stomach.
Ed opened his eyes, slightly concerned. "Are you alright? Do you want me to call the doctor?"
The woman blushed, looking surprised. "Oh- no- it's just the baby kicking. Do you want to feel?" she offered.
Ed shrugged, hesitantly placing his hand on her shirt.
He felt the fluttering, thumping against his hand.
And then suddenly, everything made sense.
Something inside me is moving...
"Feel it?"
Ed nodded- he was even more nauseas and slightly numb, now.
A moment later the nurse had called back the pregnant woman, leaving him with a moment to gather his thoughts.
"Fullmetal."
He was busy enough focusing on controlling his breathing that he didn't even notice the first time Mustang called him.
"Ed- look at me. Are you alright? You look like you're about to faint.".
He must've gone pale. "I'm good."
Mustang looked doubtful, but thankfully he kept quiet.
A few minutes later the nurse was calling them back to the exam room, taking his temperature and vitals.
She had coppery red hair pulled back into a ponytail and coffee brown eyes.
"What seems to be the problem today?"
"I threw up." Ed said simply. He was trying to keep it together, but god, his thoughts were racing.
What the hell are they trying to tell me?
"He's been throwing up every morning for the past few days. And he's anemic already- the doctors said that vomiting and stomach issues could be a sign of something worse causing that anemia.".
The nurse frowned. "It certainly could be. The doctor will see you in just a moment.".
She left them alone.
"I need to know what's going on, Fullmetal." Mustang said seriously.
Ed sighed. "I thought it was food poisoning. I don't know, okay?" he swallowed thickly.
"I get it. But I need to know if you've been tired lately, or anything else has been hurting."
Ed sighed. "No. I'm just... there's a lot going on with the case, I dunno..."
They were interrupted by the doctor entering the room.
He was a man of about 40, with a lined face like Falman and wavy black hair. He conducted a brief physical examination before declaring they'd start him on IV fluids, give him an anti-nausea injection, and run some blood tests to make sure he was okay, but that he suspected it was a virus.
"Can you check his iron levels as well? He's usually anemic as it is, I don't want to miss anything. He had his last iron injection last week, he shouldn't be due for another week still..." Mustang asked the doctor. Hell, the man actually looked concerned.
The doctor reassured Mustang everything would be looked into before he was ducking out.
A new nurse came in- with bouncing blonde curls and red lipstick.
And Mustang must've actually been worried, because he didn't even try to flirt with her.
The nurse was cheery and quick-witted, and she managed to get the vein in his hand on the first try, drawing a tube of blood before she was hooking a bag of saline to the line.
Ed made a point to look away until she was done with needles- but even then, his fear of needles seemed short-sighted and mundane when he compared it to the feeling of something squirming inside him...
He cast a glance over at Mustang, who was watching everything carefully. Normally he hated doctors and was glad to have Mustang there, because even if the man was annoying, Ed knew he could trust him.
But now- with his thoughts running all over the place, he couldn't ask any of the questions he needed to.
"Alright. So I'll go ahead and give you your anti-nausea injection in a minute, but I have to go over our sexual health questionnaire before I do. It's a mandatory thing in the clinic."
Ah. There was his excuse. He was already feeling his cheeks go red. He turned to look at Mustang. "Can you leave? I don't want to talk about this in front of you.".
Mustang looked slightly surprised at the request- afterall, Ed hated doctors and was normally anxious to be left alone with them- but he nodded. "I'll be in the waiting room. Can I... after you're done discussing everything, do you want me to come back?".
Ed nodded hesitantly.
"I'll go and get your Dad when we're done here." the nurse said reassuringly, eyes bright with understanding. Mustang's eyes widened slightly at being called Ed's father, but he said nothing, turning and walking out of the exam room, closing the door behind him.
The nurse sighed, grabbing her clipboard. "Alright. Are you an intravenous drug user?".
"No.".
"Are you sexually active?"
Ed hesitated. He wasn't sexually active, but with the questions he was going to need to ask, it wouldn't make sense and would raise suspicion if he said he wasn't...
He hesitated.
"It's okay. I know these things can be hard to talk about. Do you want me to put down yes?" the nurse asked simply.
Ed nodded, blushing bright red. This was embarrassing. Talking about it all was embarrassing, but especially because he was lying for the sake of his own questions...
"Have you had unprotected sex within the past thirty days?"
"Yes." he answered automatically, voice so steady it surprised him.
The nurse didn't bat an eyelash, checking something off on her clipboard. "And... do you need STD testing today?"
Ed hesitated. "I... does it hurt?".
The nurse shook her head, smiling. "Not at all, sweetie. You just pee in a cup.".
Ed nodded. "Then yes, please." he hated wasting medical professionals time, but this was necessary.
"Have you been the victim of rape or sexual assault?"
"Um... no. It was- it was consensual." he could feel his face heating up at the admission, even if it was a lie, because the only person he'd ever imagined having sex with was Winry...
"Okay." the nurse grabbed a urine cup from the cupboard, handing it to him. "So I'll leave and have you fill this and come back for it once you're done, and then I'll send your Dad back in. Do you have any questions for me?"
Ed paused. He was about to correct her and say Mustang wasn't his father, but he realized now was the time to ask his more important questions- so he figured he might as well come out and say it, her assumption about Mustang be damned.
"So, uh... how long does a girl have to be pregnant for before she can feel the baby kick?".
The nurse blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "Well- it depends on the woman. Most of the time, for a first pregnancy, it's about 25 weeks before the woman can feel the baby kick, but sometimes a baby's kicks can be felt as early as thirteen weeks along..." the nurse was looking at him curiously. "You're asking for your girlfriend, aren't you?".
Ed shrugged. "Something like that."
"Any other questions?"
"How long does morning sickness last?"
The nurse paused again. "So it varies- but for most people, it starts during the ninth week of pregnancy and goes away by the fourteenth week. But it can last a lot longer or not happen at all in some people. Any other questions?"
Ed paused. "Um... just one. Can this discussion just... stay between us?".
The nurse nodded understandingly. "Yes, sweetie- everything you told me here is confidential. Your Dad won't know. And if you or your girlfriend need any other help, come by anytime. Now I'm going to let you fill that cup up and I'll come back for it, and then your Dad can come back again...".
She left.
He peed in the cup.
She knocked on the door five minutes later, he gave her the cup of pee, and a sheet of information to fill out. He quickly wrote down their hotel room information, and then he was sitting back on the table.
A minute later, Mustang was ducking back into the exam room. The man's gaze lingered on Ed sitting on the table for a minute. "Doing alright?" he asked simply.
Ed nodded. "I'm good.".
Mustang paused, clearing his throat. "If there's anything you need to talk about- let me know.".
"I'm fine. I just didn't wanna have to answer all those stupid questions in front of you.".
"Ah. I see." Mustang nodded, still looking a bit awkward. "Well- uh..." he cleared his throat. "Fourteen is a time with a lot of... changes. So if you did need to talk to someone- me or Hughes or Havoc have an open door policy.".
"Right."
They sat in the silence for awhile- Ed laid back on the exam table, trying to ignore how the crinkling of the paper on the table beneath him was irritating.
He must've dozed off, because he woke up to a burning prick in his arm and jolted, trying to turn his head to the side, but was stopped by a rough hand holding his head to the side so he couldn't
"What the fuck!?"
"Hold still. It's almost over." Mustang said simply.
"Aaaannnd done!" the nurse said cheerfully, tossing her syringe into the sharps bin.
"Anti-nausea shot is done!"
"I figured you wouldn't want to be awake for it. I know you hate needles." Mustang said simply.
"Right. Well a warning would've been nice." he sat up, rubbing his arm gingerly. The shot had burned.
"So like I was telling your Dad- your blood tests came back normal, iron is good. We think it's just a virus that will pass. You've gotten IV fluids to rehydrate you, and the anti-nausea shot should settle your stomach until it's out of your system." the blonde nurse was speaking cheerily.
"Cool. So we can get out of here?" Ed sat up, shaking his head from side to side to loosen the muscles.
"You sure can. Drink lots of fluids and take it easy, and call if you have any concerns!" the nurse said happily.
They ducked out of the ER in silence, heading back to the waiting room. As they walked past the nurse's station, Ed saw the copper-haired nurse from earlier scowling down at some paperwork.
Maybe Mustang wasn't the only one who hated paperwork.
"It should be pretty obvious that we're not going to the morgue today." Mustang said simply.
Ed sighed. "Please? For only an hour? Then I'll go back to the hotel and sleep. I just... I just need an hour.". Ed said simply.
Mustang sighed. "You promise you won't give me a hard time about leaving and heading back to the hotel after your hour's up?"
Ed nodded. "I promise.".
Mustang sighed. "Alright.".
"Morning, Ed!" Savannah waved at him, having to speak loudly to be heard over the bone saw. There was another autopsy under way, and Ed waved to her. He was slightly relieved- at least this autopsy wasn't a murder victim.
But he frowned- there was less density in the room today, even though Atkins was also present, camped out at their little steel autopsy table.
"They moved one of the bodies." Ed said simply, grabbing his folder of paperwork and grabbing a seat at an unoccupied steel autopsy table.
He knew exactly what he was looking for, and he started to leaf through the paperwork.
The hum of the bone-saw died down to quiet, and Mustang was speaking quietly to Sarah, who paused her autopsy and replied, looking surprised.
But Ed had already found what he was looking for, and he turned, walking over to Sarah with a sheaf of papers in hand.
"You were right, Fullmetal. They released one of the bodies to the family for a burial." Mustang confirmed.
Ed nodded. "That's good to know. But I have questions." Ed held out several papers to Sarah, motioning to the circled results.
"So- they were all pregnant. I think. If you look at the HCG column, they all have values over 5MIU/mL. Meaning they were all pregnant, correct?".
Sarah's lips quirked into a frown. "Theoretically, yes. But... It's complicated. So generally, HCG increases every couple days of pregnancy, increasing in amount the further you are along. The results indicate that all the women were in very early pregnancy, and it doesn't seem plausible that they were ALL in the first month of pregnancy when they were killed..."
Ed paused. "What if they were further along?".
Sarah frowned. "So, I did all of these autopsies- and I didn't see any signs of pregnancy. No thickening of the uterus walls, no embryo. The fact that seven of eight dead women have elevated HCG levels may just be a laboratory error. I'll see if they made a mistake, maybe the reagent is out of date..." Sarah said, looking confused.
"It's not a mistake. The only weird thing is that only one women victim had a normal HCG level." Ed said simply.
Atkins had gotten up and was looking interested. "You're suggesting the killer went after pregnant women?".
Ed bit his lip. "I don't know. I'm not sure. I just... I just know that it's important.".
Sarah was looking troubled. "That doesn't make sense, though. These HCG levels- all of these show that the women would be less than two months pregnant, nobody would know they were pregnant unless they administered a test...".
"Or unless they were the one who impregnated them. Our serial killer may also be a rapist." Atkins said, silver eyes going steely.
"But then why the dead man? He wasn't pregnant." Sarah said simply.
"Maybe he knew who raped and impregnated his fiancée, and they did it to get rid of witnesses." Mustang suggested.
There was banging in the cold lockers, and Ed's head snapped to the side.
Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!
Why did you leave me alone last night, Ed? It's so cold here. I'm alone. Alone. Alone. Always alone, even after...
It wasn't our fault!
"I can't understand if you keep yelling at me!" Ed snapped.
And all at once, the voices were quiet.
And everyone in the damn morgue was staring at him. He must've shouted louder than he thought.
"You doing alright, Ed?" Savannah asked, looking hesitant.
Ed sighed. "No. I'm not. We're missing something, they're only saying a little, and they're all talking at once..." A wave of dizziness hit him, and he stumbled, having to catch himself on the wall to keep from going to his knees.
The voices were lapping at his consciousness, new, buzzing and upset like ocean waves, licking at his toes and then drifting far away, out of reach...
"This could change everything." Atkins was looking excited.
"I'm still not sure this is reliable." Sarah was looking a bit uncertain.
"Either way, Fullmetal is done for the day. Your hour here is up- we're going back to the hotel to get some rest." Mustang said seriously, giving Ed a look and placing an arm over his shoulders.
"Right- while you do that, I'll bring in every male friend associated with the murdered engaged couple and bring up every male associated with the other victims and cross-reference. We're going to get this maniac off the streets..." Atkins was buzzing about, excited.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Mustang had placed a firm hand on his shoulder and was guiding him out of the morgue, back to the hotel.
He was pretty tired, anyways. And frustrated.
He climbed into his bed and cocooned himself in the sheets- for some reason, he was feeling emotional.
"I'm actually cautiously optimistic about everything, you know." Mustang admitted.
"Yeah?" Ed asked, not really paying attention as he stared up at the ceiling.
Mustang nodded. "Yeah. Assuming everything you found is correct- you may have cracked this case. Even with whatever the hell virus you've got right now.".
Ed bit his lip to keep from correcting him.
You're not sick, you're pregnant.
He grabbed a fistful of the sheets, forcing himself to regulate his breathing. I am not pregnant. Just like I am not Patrick Mullaney. I experience your emotions, your thoughts- feel what you felt. But I am not pregnant.
I don't want to be pregnant either.
Ed sat bolt upright. "What the fuck does that even mean!?"
Wrong.
"Dammit!" he was kicking off the bedsheets and pacing the room.
"Fullmetal- Ed, take it easy." Mustang was watching him with concern. "I know you've been through a lot lately. And you're not feeling good. You found something important- this is the best lead we've had in awhile. Just relax.".
"I need to move." Ed said simply. Because he was afraid if he stopped moving, he'd hear them talking again, and feel that squirming of a baby kicking in his stomach...
"You need to rest. You're sick. Getting worked up won't do any good." Mustang was watching him pace, onyx eyes concerned.
"Okay. Yeah, okay, you're right- let me pace for a few minutes, just a few, and then I'll lay down.".
Mustang nodded, still watching him with obvious worry as he silently wore a hole in the floor of the hotel room.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Mustang tried.
"I don't know what to talk about! I don't know what's right and what's wrong, I have a headache, I'm exhausted..." and I feel like I might cry. his mind filled in the rest.
"Dammit! None of this makes sense!" he stopped pacing. At least now it was quiet in his head. He needed a nap, a distraction, something with alcohol in it...
He flung himself onto his bed, closing his eyes and reciting the periodic table of elements in his head over and over so he wouldn't hear anything he couldn't understand until sleep took him away.
He woke up around four in the afternoon to muffled conversation.
He sat up, scrubbing a hand across his face. "What time is it?" he asked, confused.
"It's four in the afternoon. Don't bother to get up, we're running the interviews on all the men associated with the dead couple now. We're in the best shape we've been in since this whole thing started thanks to you." Atkins said, grinning.
"Oh." Ed blinked, still tired. "That's good. Can I... help?".
Atkins shook his head. "Rest up, kid. You've done enough. You might be able to head back to East City soon if this lead pans out..."
"Oh- cool." Ed grinned. Maybe things were looking up. Maybe they would catch this guy.
Atkins was shotgunning a cup of coffee and talking excitedly. "I'll be at the station all night watching interviews. You two get some sleep, we'll rendezvous at the morning in the morgue. I can't believe the kid figured all this stuff out.".
"He's a prodigy. But don't expect Fullmetal to clean up your messes all the time." Mustang said simply.
Ed sighed. "I want french fries." he was craving them so badly.
Atkins and Mustang looked over at him curiously.
Atkins chuckled. "Sure. You got it, I'll have them send some up with room service.". he headed for the door.
Mustang watched him scarf down the plate of fries room service dropped off half an hour later, amused.
"So- I take it you're feeling better, considering you're eating French fries?".
"Yeah. Feel great. We going home soon?" Ed asked, mouth still full of fries.
Roy nodded. "It's beginning to look that way, yes. We'll rendezvous with Atkins in the morning and see if he's gotten anything from the interviews..."
He finished eating, laying back. There was a familiar thump, a fluttering against his ribcage, and he jolted.
The baby's kicking.
He took a deep breath. They had a lead. They were on the right track.
But then why did he feel like they were going in the wrong direction?