Author's Note:
What's this? I'm actually posting within an appropriate time window? I didn't submit my readers to endless months of waiting? What is this sorcery?
Though I would love to claim that I have amazingly improved my time management skills, I have actually been writing this chapter since around the same time I posted Chapter 2. The reasons for this is that I had initially intended to explain Ed's injuries as early as possible. However as I began revising the story more and more, this chapter got pushed back later and later, so by the time I had posted Chapter 9, half of this chapter was already written. What I'm most proud of, however, is that it only took a little over a week to edit the chapter. I consider this impressive considering I had to do heavy editing on almost every scene. In all, I hope this means that I'll be able to churn out updates more frequently.
The only drawback to this is since I've been writing his chapter for over a year, it's gotten harder to gauge the quality of my work since I've gotten so used to it. Luckily, this is a problem specific to only this chapter.
Prepare for feels. Lots of feels. I promised a Parental!RoyEd subplot and I am going to follow through.
Reviews are always appreciated
I own nothing.
It was just after dawn when Colonel Mustang entered his office. For once the reason for his early start wasn't because he had procrastinated the night before, but rather the opposite. Many higher ups were being assigned to the White Wolves case and as a result their other paperwork was piling up. Mustang had taken the initiative and volunteered to take on the extra work.
At first his subordinates had been crushed, expecting the Colonel to slack off. However Mustang knew the strategic importance of maintaining this workload. He had actually been consistently meeting deadlines well ahead of schedule. In the end, the only one who wasn't amused was Hawkeye, but there wasn't anything he could do about that.
So when the phone rang, Mustang had been there to answer it.
He let it ring for a few seconds, signing one last form before picking up the receiver. Frankly, he doubted that it was anything important. For who would be calling him this early in the morning?
"This is Colonel Roy Mustang," he said.
"Colonel," said a frantic voice. "You need to come to the hospital. Immediately."
"Alphonse?" Mustang asked, raising an eyebrow. "Has something happened?"
"It's brother. He's hurt really bad," Al said. "They're taking him in for surgery. Please hurry."
"Which hospital are you at?" Mustang asked, rising to his feet.
"The one by the train station, near Birchwood Drive," Al said.
"I'll be there in 10 minutes."
Mustang felt that he could not drive fast enough.
The mission he had sent Ed on wasn't particularly dangerous. There were rumors about some greatly gifted alchemist in a town roughly 30 miles south from Heinsworth. The town was in the northeast area, but it was a decent distance from the edge of the White Wolves' area of operation. Ed should've been fine.
Ed had been in the military for under a year. He was a bit of a hothead, but he was also an excellent fighter and extremely resourceful. He was not an easy target.
What could've possibly happened?
On another note, if Ed had been injured during the mission, wouldn't he have been treated at the closest hospital? So then why was Ed brought to the one in East City? Was it possible that the mission wasn't the cause of his injury?
Upon entering the hospital, Mustang was directed toward the surgical wing's waiting room.
He spotted Alphonse instantly, a suit of armor tends to stick out in a crowd.
"Colonel," Alphonse said as he approached. "I'm glad you're here."
"What happened?" Mustang asked. He formed his hands into fists in a vain attempt to keep them steady.
Before Al could answer, a mousy haired nurse cleared her throat. Mustang hadn't even noticed her sitting next to Al.
"Are you Edward Elric's commanding officer?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered. "I'm Colonel Roy Mustang."
"I need you to fill out these papers," the nurse said, placing a clipboard in his hands.
Mustang looked suspiciously at them.
"They just want to know about Brother's medical history," Al said. "I already told them what I know, but they need his superior officer to sign some forms."
"Very well," Mustang said. After all, he was technically Edward's guardian. He took a seat, silently cueing the nurse to leave. "I'll return these papers once they've been completed."
"Thank you," she said curtly, turning down the hall.
With the nurse gone, Mustang started filling out the forms.
"Tell me what happened," he said.
Al began to speak rapidly. "I don't really know. I thought Brother was fine, but then he collapsed. I brought him here. And he started going into shock-"
"Hey," Mustang said softly. "Let's start from the beginning. You were in that town I sent you to, right?"
"Yes," Al said. "We searched all over, but we couldn't find that alchemist. None of the locals knew anything either. After a week, we figured it was a lost cause and decided we should just head back. But we were late getting to the station and missed our train, so we had to take the midnight train to East City."
"Then what happened?"
"In the rush to get to the station, Brother had left his coat at the inn. He ran back to get it while I bought some food. He took so long to come back, I should have noticed something was wrong," Al said.
"So Ed arrived at the station?" Mustang said.
"Yes and we boarded the train. By then it was past midnight so when Brother slept the entire ride, I didn't think anything of it. We arrived in East City and then Brother collapsed on the platform," Alphonse seemed to be calming down now, he simply took a few moments before continuing. "That's when I noticed that he was hurt. I took him to the hospital. He was still conscious and kept telling me that it was only a few scrapes and bruises. He kept insisting that he could just sleep it off."
Al paused once more. Mustang waited patiently for him to continue, using his many years of military training to force himself to stay calm.
"And then he started going into shock. Everything happened so fast after that. I heard one of the doctors say something about internal bleeding and how they had to take him into surgery immediately. One of the nurses asked about family. I told them that I was his younger brother. They asked about parents and I said we had none. I told them that he was a State Alchemist. They told me to call his commanding officer, so I called you."
"Has the doctor been by yet?" Mustang asked.
"No. They said they'll come once Brother's out of surgery."
"Okay, then," Mustang said, signing the last form. He stood up and gave them to a passing orderly. He forced himself to sit back down, resisting the urge to pace.
Ed had only been in surgery for a little while. He could be fine.
Or he could be bleeding out on a surgical table.
Mustang slowly opened and closed his hands, struggling and failing to properly compose himself.
Selfishly, he wanted to know exactly what happened to Ed.
If some low life had been responsible for this, he would burn them without remorse. He would show them what happened to people who crossed him. And if it were a fellow soldier in the chair next to him, he would have pressed them for more information, and then gone off on his path for vengeance.
But Alphonse was only 12 years old, and his only family member had been seriously injured. He didn't need promises of revenge. He needed proof that he wasn't going to be alone.
"Do you think brother is going to be alright?" Al asked.
Mustang spoke truthfully. "I'm not going to promise that he is going to be okay, because I honestly don't know. However, I do know that your brother is the most stubborn and headstrong person I know. He is not the type to give up."
Alphonse stared at the floor before them, seemingly processing the Colonel's words.
"I'm scared," Al admitted.
"And there's nothing wrong with that," Mustang said.
Truth was, he was scared too.
There was nothing to do but wait. They sat in silence for quite some time. Mustang tried not to look at the clock. He didn't want to know how much time had passed. Didn't want to think about how serious Edward's injuries must be.
Didn't want to think about what he would do if Ed died.
Mustang had no use for those thoughts. So he tried his best to not think at all.
Hours passed.
Finally, a doctor walked into the room.
"Alphonse Elric," he called.
They both looked up.
"That's me," Al said.
The doctor was a tall middle aged man with piercing brown eyes.
"My name is Doctor Bard," he said. "I was the surgeon in charge of your brother's surgery." His gaze wavered over to Mustang, taking in his military uniform. "I'm assuming you're Edward Elric's superior officer."
"Yes, I am Colonel Roy Mustang. What is the status of my subordinate?"
Doctor Bard turned back to face Alphonse.
"Your brother's surgery was successful. We managed to stop the internal bleeding and determined that it was caused by a liver laceration. He has a series of other injuries, but none of them are life threatening. With proper rest and care I expect him to make a full recovery. Right now, he is stable and being moved to recovery."
Alphonse nodded.
"Can I see him?" he asked.
"Sure, right this way."
They followed the doctors through the halls. The doctor stopped at the end of the hallway.
"Your brother is down the hall in room 189. He should be waking up shortly," Dr. Bard said.
Al nodded and began walking down the corridor.
Mustang moved to follow him.
"Colonel, may I speak to you for a moment?" Dr. Bard said.
"Very well," Mustang replied. He turned to Al. "Go ahead. I'll come by when we're done."
He followed Dr. Bard until they had reached a secluded hallway.
"What's this about?" Mustang asked.
Dr. Bard let out a sigh. "If you didn't already guess I was sugar coating things back there," he said. "It's true that Edward Elric had internal bleeding caused by a liver laceration. However in addition to that he also has six bruised ribs, two of which are broken, a sprained wrist, and there are large areas of bruising on his chest and abdomen. It's obvious that he was beaten."
Mustang fell silent. The doctor's words were resonating around his skull.
After a few moments he cleared his throat, attempting to gain some semblance of composure.
"Thank you for informing me," Mustang said. "Rest assured that I will find the people responsible for this."
"That's not what I'm worried about," Dr. Bard said. He fell silent, as if he was carefully choosing his next words. "The laceration wasn't that severe. In fact, it was relatively minor. Had it been treated immediately, Ed might've not even needed surgery." He paused again. "But he wasn't treated immediately. And when we opened him up, we found nearly a liter of blood in his body cavity. He had been bleeding out for hours."
"What?" Mustang breathed.
Dr. Bard nodded. "Now I'm not a psychologist, but I do have considerable experience with trauma patients. Understandably, I'm worried about Edward's mental wellbeing. Injuries like this don't just heal overnight and he's in for a long road of recovery. If he's prone to this type of reckless behaviour, he might not take the time to properly recover. This, understandably, will have consequences both physically and mentally," Dr. Bard said. "Now I think someone mentioned before that these boys have no parents."
"Yes, their father left when they were young and their mother died soon after."
"Do they have any other parental figures in their lives?"
"Well, there's the Rockbells. They're old family friends, but I don't think they've visited them since they've joined the military," Mustang said. "I don't know of anyone else."
"Colonel, I cannot stress just how much Edward needs to be properly supported through this time, especially since he seems to have a habit of hiding his injuries. Physically, he should limit physical exertion for about eight to twelve weeks. He also needs to watch for sudden abdominal pain, shortness of breath, and dizziness with a fast pulse. These may be signs that he has injured himself again. But above all, he needs emotional support. Edward is still a child and I can tell he's had a pretty rough time. He's going to have some very complex emotions to deal with."
Mustang took a breath. "I understand."
For a moment, a knowing look seemed to cross Dr. Bard's face, but then it was gone.
"That would be all," Dr. Bard said. And without another word, he turned to leave.
Mustang stood there in that hallway for a few long moments, processing the doctor's words.
Since joining the military, there was a newfound confidence in Ed. His back was straighter, his chin higher, and the haunted look in his eyes seemed to diminish. He had gotten a bit more cocky, a bit more proud; reveling in his power and strength.
And now he had been seriously injured.
Ed was so used to being strong. Mustang seriously doubted that he would actually take the time to properly recover. He had seen it often enough: injured soldiers pushing themselves too far and ending up hurting themselves even more, delaying their recovery time in the process.
If this went on, Ed would end up doing more harm than good.
Mustang took a deep breath. He'll think about it later.
He walked back through the corridors to Ed's room. Once outside the room, he found himself pausing. Both dreading and desperate to see his subordinates' condition.
Mustang opened the door.
Edward was laying in the hospital bed. There were bandages on his left hand and Mustang could see a few others peeking out from under his hospital gown. His hair was out of his usual braid, golden strands sprawled out against the stark white pillow.
"Colonel," Al said. He was sitting down in a nearby chair. "What did the doctor want to talk about?"
"Just some paperwork," Mustang lied. He sat down on the other side of the bed.
Al nodded. He stroked some hair from Ed's face.
"I wish I could tell..." Al started. "I wish I could feel him."
If possible Mustang's heart sank even lower.
Before he knew it, he reached forward, letting his hand lie on Ed's cheek.
"His skin is warm," Mustang described. "It's soft and a little damp, as if it was washed."
He fell silent, unsure if Al wanted him to continue, but after a moment Al gave him a urging nod. Mustang moved his fingers to feel Ed's pulse.
"His heartbeat is strong and steady. He looked Alphonse in the eye and withdrew his hand. "Your brother is alive. He is going to be alright."
Alphonse nodded.
"Thank you," he said.
Mustang smiled. He could feel the relief washing over him. For a few moments he simply watched Ed's chest rise and fall; continued proof that he was alive. That he was going to be okay.
Mustang took a breath. "Do you have any plans here in East City?"
He didn't actually want to talk, but at the very least he wanted to provide Al with some sort of distraction from the current situation.
"Not really," Al said. "Brother was just looking forward to holing up in the library."
"May I suggest that you check out the museum. They have a new exhibit about Pierre Curie."
"Wasn't he a physicist?"
Mustang nodded. "Most of the exhibit is pretty mundane, but they recently discovered some of his old scientific journals."
"Really?"
"As I recall they found them in an old storage room of an abandoned warehouse. Anyway, you might want to ask the museum employees if you can further examine them."
"I'll make sure to. Brother is surely going to need something to do while..." Al trailed off. He reached forward to grasp Ed's hand. "Brother?"
Mustang fell silent as well, his eyes focused on the young boy's face. At first it seemed like nothing had changed, but then Mustang noticed that Ed's eye's were moving behind his eyelids. Slowly, they flickered open.
"Brother," Al repeated, the relief clear in his voice.
Ed let out a low groan.
"Alphonse," he said breathlessly. "Where am I?"
"You're in the hospital," Al said. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a truck," Ed said. He looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. His eyes rested on Mustang and he scowled deeply.
"What are you doing here?" Ed asked.
"I could ask you the same thing," Mustang said.
"The doctors wanted him here," Al answered.
"Well, I don't know why you both look so worried," Ed said. "I'm fine."
"You were bleeding internally," Al said.
"Just bruises," Ed said dismissively.
"They said it was caused by a liver laceration," Mustang said. "It was fairly serious."
Ed shrugged. "I just didn't think it was a big deal."
Mustang bit back a retort.
As much as he wanted to reprimand Ed for being so utterly careless, now was not the time to argue.
Ed had just woken up from surgery. What these brothers needed now more than anything was some time alone to process and reconnect.
Mustang forced himself to stand.
There'll be time to sort this out later.
"I'll inform the doctors that you've woken up," Mustang said.
He might have been imagining it, but as he walked to the door. He could have sworn that Ed's eyes were fixated on him, watching him as he exited the room.
About an hour later Mustang sat outside Ed's room, his head resting back against the wall.
A nurse had come by a few minutes prior. When he found that Ed was asleep, he made them both promise that they wouldn't enter the room for at least another hour, so that Ed could get some decent rest.
Alphonse was sitting next to him. He had procured a book from somewhere and seemed to be reading intently. However Mustang couldn't help but notice that he was simply staring at the same spot on the page.
Suddenly Mustang stood up, a new panic flooding through him.
"Colonel?" Al asked.
"I forgot to tell Hawkeye where I was," Mustang said.
For the first time that morning the tension in the room seemed to diminish, replaced by budding humor.
In truth, Al's eyes were now glittering with amusement. "You should probably call her."
Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose. "She is going to kill me."
He glanced at the clock.
It was well past lunch.
Great.
Just great.
"I'm going to find a phone," he said, turning down the hall.
"Good luck, Colonel," Alphonse called.
Mustang found a pay phone a few corridors over. He quickly dialled the number for the office.
The phone rang once before someone picked it up.
"This is Lieutenant Jean Havoc. May I ask who is speaking?"
Mustang gritted his teeth. "Hey Havoc, it's me. Could you put Hawkeye on the line?"
"Colonel?" Havoc said. "Where are-" He never finished his sentence.
"Sir," Hawkeye said, having grabbed the phone. "If you are going to volunteer to do extra paperwork, you might want to show up and actually do it."
"Sorry about that," Mustang said, cringing slightly.
"Where are you?" Hawkeye asked.
"I'm at the hospital. Ed's been injured."
"What happened?"
"I don't have all the details, but we suspect he was beaten. Al said that they missed the evening train, so they had to take the midnight one to East City. Ed had left his coat at the inn and ran back to get it. I think he was attacked somewhere along the way. Somehow, he managed to get back to the train station. He hid his injuries the entire way here, until he collapsed getting off the train. Al then noticed his injuries and brought him to the hospital. He had significant internal bleeding and had to be brought in immediately for surgery. He just got out about an hour ago. I'm sorry. I completely forgot to call you," Mustang said.
There was no response from the other end of the line.
"Lieutenant?" Mustang asked. Another moment passed "Hawkeye... Are you there?"
"Did you eat lunch?" Hawkeye asked.
Mustang blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"Lunch, did you eat it?" she asked once more.
"Well..."
"That's what I thought," she said. All traces of aggression gone. "I'll be there soon and bring you a sandwich."
"Thank you."
"As well as your paperwork. If you are going to stay at the hospital all day you might as well do something useful."
A little while later, Mustang looked up to see Hawkeye walking down the hallway. There was a takeout bag in her hand.
Suddenly aware of his growing hunger, he rose to his feet.
"Lieutenant," he greeted. "Punctual as always."
He reached for the food.
Hawkeye, seemingly unamused, plopped a pile of papers into his outstretched hand.
"Colonel," she said. "The files for Major Carlton are due by 0800 hours tomorrow. There are also a total of twenty-five forms detailing six various topics that need your approval by 0900 hours tomorrow. The final report of the Weller case is also due by 0900 hours tomorrow. At 1100 hours tomorrow you have a meeting with the General, at 1300 hours you are to oversee the installation of the new delivery system lines, and finally at 1800 hours submit the final report of the installation."
Mustang couldn't help but smile. Despite the absurd amount of work he now had to complete, it seemed that his schedule was completely clear for the day. Almost as if someone had intentionally cleared it.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Mustang said. "Your dedication is much appreciated. I'll be sure to finish all the paperwork by tomorrow."
Satisfied, Hawkeye handed him his food.
"I'll find you later," she said, flashing her eyes in Al's direction.
Understanding her intent, Mustang excused himself and began to walk down the hall.
Behind him he could hear Hawkeye and Al beginning to talk in low tones.
Over the past several hours, he had done his best to console Alphonse. However Al was closer to Hawkeye than to him, so there was a likely chance that he'd respond well to her support.
Though Mustang couldn't help but notice that Hawkeye was also using this as an opportunity to force him to take a break.
Smiling softly to himself, Mustang began to inspect the contents of the takeout bag.
Half an hour later, Mustang was sitting outside on a bench. He had tilted his head back and was staring up at the sky, watching the clouds drift overhead.
There was the sound of footsteps.
"How is Alphonse?" Mustang asked.
Hawkeye sat down next to him. "He's holding up the best he can, given the circumstances. How are you?"
Had it been any other officer sitting next to him. Mustang would've flashed a charming smile, said "I'm okay," and probably made a snarky comment about hospitals. But Hawkeye knew him better than that, so he didn't bother.
Instead he stayed silent for a few minutes, trying to put his emotions into words.
"He almost died," Mustang said.
"And you feel responsible," Hawkeye added.
Mustang nodded. "I knew that that area was dangerous, but I sent him anyway."
"But you couldn't have predicted this," she said.
"Doesn't matter."
"Colonel-"
"Hawkeye, someone beat him. They broke his ribs, sprained his wrist-" Mustang took a shaky breath. "That kid has been through enough and now this."
"Still not a reason to blame yourself."
"But I-"
"One of your subordinates was hospitalised. You have every right to feel awful about it. We all do. So fine, feel what you need to feel. But do remember that in the long run, blaming yourself isn't going to help Edward. What matters is that we do our best to help him recover."
Mustang took a moment to study Hawkeye's expression. Though she seemed composed, her shoulders were tense and her eyes had a dark tint to them.
This was affecting her too.
"Have you spoken to Edward yet? About how he got injured?" Hawkeye asked.
"Only briefly. Right now, he needs to rest," he said.
"You'll have to ask him soon. If you want to find out who did this," she said.
Mustang sighed. "I'm not one to speculate, but I have a pretty good idea who it was."
"The White Wolves."
"Who else would beat a child to this extent," Mustang said.
Hawkeye nodded.
"I'm having Falman and Feury look for leads: calling the inn, checking for chatter, cross referencing past incidents to see if anything correlates. But ultimately, we need Ed's testimony." She paused. "Do you think he'll be honest with you?"
"He got injured during a mission," Mustang said. "He'll have to be."
"I know," she said. "But Ed is extremely proud and this has been the most he has been hurt since..."
Hawkeye didn't finish her sentence. She didn't need to. They both understood. This has been the most Ed has gotten hurt since he and his brother performed human transmutation.
After Ed joined the military he had been filled with a new hope and strength. They had no way to know how he would react after being knocked off his feet.
"Do you want me there when you ask him?" she asked.
"No, I think it'll be better if it's just me," Mustang said. "But can you keep Al occupied? I think it's better if he didn't know the details."
"Of course."
That night, Hawkeye stopped by the hospital once more. After chatting with the brothers for a few minutes, she insisted on taking Al out for a walk, claiming that it would help with the stress. Mustang knew she planned to take him through the park, where they would without a doubt run into a few cats.
Mustang stood outside Ed's room, trying his best to compose himself.
"I know you're there!" Ed yelled, startling everyone in the hall.
Mustang rolled his eyes. Trying his best to ignore the hospital staff's curious glances, he stepped into the room.
Ed was sitting in the bed, propped up by a series of pillows.
"You're here for my report," he said, a familiar fire raging in his eyes.
"Yes," Mustang said, sitting down.
Ed rolled his eyes. "Your intel sucks. There was no alchemist in that town. Al and I looked for a week, but we couldn't find anyone that fit his description and none of the locals would admit to knowing him. So we decided it was a dead end and came back to East City. End of story."
"So then how did you get injured?" Mustang asked.
"I don't have to tell you that," Ed said.
"You were injured during a mission. That makes it the military's business. And as your commanding officer, that makes it my business," Mustang said. "Now tell me what happened."
Ed glared at him.
"How much did Al tell you?"
"That you had left your coat at the inn, so you went back to get it. You arrived at the station, seemingly unharmed. Until you collapsed getting off the train in East City."
"I didn't collapse," Ed corrected. "I tripped."
"Well then, you must've tripped over your own stupidity."
Ed scowled.
Mustang looked him in the eye.
"What happened, Fullmetal?" he asked.
Ed looked away. "Al is right for the most part. I ran back into town to fetch my coat. I had retrieved it and was walking back to the station." He fell silent for a moment. "When a group of people ambushed me."
"Did you get a good look at their faces?" Mustang asked.
"No, it was too dark. I do remember their voices, but it's not like that's going to identify them." Ed formed his hand into a fist. "I tried to fight them off, but there were a lot of them and they were stronger than me. They just beat me to a pulp and left me on the road. I think I got knocked out, because I remember waking up."
"Did you notice anything else about them? Did they say anything to you?" Mustang asked.
"It was really dark, so I couldn't make out what they were wearing," Ed said. "But I remember they kept saying that I was a dirty dog of the military and that I should be put down."
Mustang gritted his teeth. What kind of sick person beats a kid, tells him to die, and leaves him unconscious on a road.
"Oh," Ed said. "And one of them said something really weird. He said that only true wolves were meant to survive, not domesticated dogs."
Mustang sucked in a breath. This only confirmed his suspicions.
Ed narrowed his eyes.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Fullmetal, have you heard of the White Wolves?" Mustang asked.
"Yeah," Ed replied. "Why? Do you think they did this?"
"Sounds like it."
Ed scoffed. "They're nobodies, just a group of thugs."
"A group of thugs who managed to beat you up."
"Hey, it was dark and they ambushed me," Ed said defensively.
"Fullmetal, if you think reasonably for just one moment-"
"I have been reasonable."
"Oh really," Mustang said. "Then why didn't you seek medical attention?"
"I wasn't bleeding and neither of my limbs were broken," Ed said. "I figured I was fine."
"So you were beat up, knocked unconscious, and thought that you could just walk it off?"
"I've been through automail surgery. Compared to that, this pain is nothing."
"That's no excuse," Mustang said. "At the very least, you should have told Al you were hurt."
Ed looked down, murmuring something under his breath.
"What was that?" Mustang asked.
"I have no right to complain," Ed said.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
Ed gave him a glare.
Mustang was struck with a moment of understanding.
"This is about Al," he said.
Ed turned away and said nothing.
Mustang gritted his teeth. "If you feel responsible for Al's situation. Fine. If you want to blame yourself for it. Fine. You are entitled to feel however you want. However, that doesn't mean that you can do whatever you wish."
"Yes, it does," Ed said, raising his voice. "You have no idea what he goes through every single day. This pain is nothing compared to that!"
"His feelings don't make your pain invalid."
Ed scoffed. "You don't understand what you're talking about!"
"Well maybe I don't," Mustang said, raising his voice as well. "But what I do understand is that Al spent the morning sitting in a waiting room, thinking that his last family member could be dying, just because you were too stubborn to tell him you were injured!"
"Shut up!" Ed shouted.
"Make me!" Mustang shouted back. "When are you going to learn, Ed? State Alchemist or not, prodigy or not, you cannot do whatever you wish. Now I don't give a damn what your intentions were, what you did was reckless and wrong!"
"Get out!"
"Gladly," Mustang said, turning toward the door and not bothering to look back.
Which was a shame, because if he had he would have seen a crestfallen look cross Ed's face. As the young alchemist suddenly found himself recalling the painful memory of another turned back.
To Ed, this was just another bitter reminder that he was alone in this world.
But Mustang didn't look back.
Instead he marched through the hospital, trying to collect his thoughts.
In the back of his mind, Mustang always knew that the Elrics had never completely healed from their failed human transmutation. Of course he hadn't expected them to, traumatic experiences like that don't just go away.
But knowing a fact and experiencing it were two completely different things.
Mustang had never seen Ed like this. His trauma out in the open like a festering wound: painful and grotesque.
Ed couldn't keep doing this. Sooner or later his actions were going to catch up to him and when that happened he was going to crash. Hard.
And Mustang had no idea how to stop it.
Or even if Ed wanted to stop.
That thought terrified him more than anything.
A week passed and Colonel Mustang was called to General Grumman's office.
"General," Mustang said, saluting upon entrance.
"At ease," the General said, looking up at the officer before him. "Tell me, how is the young Elric faring?"
"Sir?" Mustang asked. Why would the General call him all the way to his office for this?
"Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist," Grumman said. "How is he doing?"
"Alright I guess," Mustang said, unsure about the topic at hand. "He is scheduled to be discharged tomorrow afternoon."
"A total of seven days in the hospital," the General mused.
"Did you need me for something, sir?" Mustang asked.
Instead the General looked at some papers on his desk.
"This information is top secret, but I think it might interest you. You see, two days ago, the White Wolves resistance group destroyed the Ukon train station."
"What?"
"Naturally, the military has decided to take action. They plan to send a small intelligence team to Ukon to find out more information on the group," the General said. "Understandably, the Fullmetal Alchemist has already been assigned to the team. They seem to think his previous run in with the White Wolves would prove to be an advantage in identifying some of the members."
"How soon?" Mustang asked.
Ed was in absolutely no shape to go on another mission, especially one as dangerous as this.
"From the looks of it as soon as Edward can walk in a straight line, Central will be ready to send him off."
"Why are you telling me about this?" Mustang asked. It was extremely risky for Grumman to leak this information to him.
"Central has tasked me with assembling the rest of the team. I can put anyone on it, as long as they are under my command. I thought because Edward Elric was your subordinate you might have some interest in the matter." He looked Mustang in the eye. "I find the boy quite interesting. Just 13 years old and already a State Alchemist. I was of course concerned with his recent hospitalization. But you can't deny it, that boy's got talent."
Mustang understood. Their orders came from Central. They had to obey them. Though General Grumman had no interest in putting an injured child in the field, so he was doing the best he could given the circumstances. He was giving Mustang a chance to protect his subordinate.
"Then may I request to be a part of the Ukon intelligence team," Mustang said.
It was the only way he could really protect Ed.
"I don't know. But the military might suddenly decide to send two State Alchemists, instead of one, this being such a dangerous mission and all. Anything else the military should consider?"
"Put Lieutenants Hawkeye and Reed on the team."
"Lieutenant Logan Reed from the Parktown Incident?" Grumman asked, raising his eyebrow. He had been expecting Mustang to request Hawkeye, but Reed?
"If you remember, I was the one to debrief him after the incident. I was going to find some way to examine his skills, but this mission seems to be the perfect opportunity."
"Very well," Grumman said. "You're dismissed."
Mustang turned to leave, but then he hesitated. "And if it's not too much, I have one more request."
"A man has every right to state his mind," Grumman said.
"Wait at least one week after Ed is discharged from the hospital before sending off the intelligence team," Mustang said.
"I'll pull a few strings."
That night Colonel Mustang made his way to the hospital, but he had no intention of visiting Edward.
"You wished to see me, Colonel," Dr. Bard said.
"I need you to extend Edward Elric's hospital stay as long as possible." Mustang said.
The doctor's eyebrow furrowed. "May I ask why?"
"Edward is a State Alchemist. Meaning that he is a dog of the military. The military can use him for whatever purpose they wish, regardless of his personal wellbeing," Mustang paused. "But he is still only 13 years old."
"I don't follow," the doctor said.
"You don't need to. You only need to extend his hospital stay as long as possible and speak of this to no one," Mustang said.
Dr. Bard's eyes widened, realization passing over his face.
"You are trying to protect him," he said.
Mustang said nothing.
Dr. Bard consulted the papers before him. He looked through them for a while before speaking.
"Typically patients with liver lacerations are kept under observation for roughly two to seven days," Dr. Bard said. "However Edward has several other injuries, some of which are in danger of being infected. To be safe, we can extend his hospital stay to make sure everything is alright. Maybe two weeks instead of one."
"Thank you," Mustang said.
Dr. Bard walked away mumbling. "I don't understand you. Wouldn't the best way to protect the boy be to keep him out of the military to begin with."
If only it were that simple.
Author's Note:
Fun Fact:
I actually did considerable research on liver lacerations in order to write this chapter. Most of the things the doctor says is factual. From a medical standpoint, Ed should not have been sent on a mission so soon.