"What's his blood type?"
"Is the injury a result of blunt force trauma?"
"Blood pressure 130 over 82, heart rate elevated at 110 bpm."
Voices flooded in Roy's ears, but he couldn't find it in him to respond, not daring break his eyes away from the bloodied form in front of him, looking so still. So dangerously still. A firm hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked up to see a female paramedic with kind brown eyes and a head of brown hair pulled cleanly back into a bun.
"I know this is hard, sir. But you need to answer the questions, they're important." Roy reluctantly pulled his gaze from Ed and shook the fog out of his head.
"Of course, sorry. He was kicked in the abdomen with a steel-toed boot, then later thrown to the ground, which is when the bleeding started. His blood type is O negative." He replied, switching his mindset from a concerned Roy to an authoritative and professional Colonel Mustang.
The two paramedics hurriedly worked around the gurney, which Ed looked impossibly small on top of. A needle was deftly inserted into the top of Ed's hand and quickly attached to a saline drip. Ed coat was flared out over the edges of the bed, leaving his battered torso in full view. Just under Ed's chest on the right side was a quickly growing splotchy bruise. Swirls of violet and blue danced over his pale skin as blood pooled in his abdomen. Roy felt increasingly sick the longer he thought about it.
How dare he? How dare that damned Stratton inflict such grotesque injuries on his subordinate, his subordinate who also happened to be a child. He wondered just how much hell he could wreck on this man for even thinking about laying a finger on Ed. He would be making a few calls when he got to the hospital.
Ed stirred on the bed next to him with a groan. His eyes darted around the room as his heart rate began to spike. He barked a few coughs, letting blood drip out of the corner of his mouth and to his ear. Roy ran his hand through Ed's hair in a soothing motion.
"Shh, Ed. It's okay. We're in an ambulance and going to get you help, okay? Just relax." Roy muttered in a soft voice. Ed's breathing calmed, though each breath was raspy and forced. He let his eyes slip shut.
"I dun' feel good." Ed mumbled groggily. Roy frowned and brushed the bangs back out of Ed's face, sticking down to his head with sweat.
"I know, Ed. I know you don't feel good right now. We're going to the doctor so they can help you, okay?" Roy responded. Ed hummed and leaned his head into Roy's hand. Ed whimpered as the paramedic gently prodded the bruised area on his ribs.
"Sorry, hon. I know it hurts. You've got a broken rib there, you'll need surgery to fix it." She informed, speaking mostly to Roy. He nodded, though hesitantly.
The ambulance pulled into the hospital parking lot, and the two paramedics were quick to unload Ed from the vehicle and usher him through the doors. Roy followed closely. He ran alongside the stretcher, only to be stopped outside of two large, white double doors.
"Sir, you can't pass. I'm sorry. Let the doctors do their work and someone will be out to inform you of his condition as soon as possible." He didn't move his eyes from the doors in front of him, mind flooding with worries of what could be happening to Ed behind them. "Please, take a seat." The nurse in blue scrubs gently pushed him to a small waiting room. There were a few coffee tables littered with magazines and newspapers, and luckily, a phone on the wall. Roy padded absentmindedly over to the landline, still in a daze of worry and adrenaline. He swirled a phone number and held the receiver to his ear, listening to the dial tones.
"Hello? Maes Hughes speaking." Called an ever-happy voice from the other end. Roy sighed.
"Maes? It's Roy. I'm in the hospital with Ed." He stated bluntly, getting straight to the point.
"What? What happened? Are you both okay?" He questioned worriedly.
"I'm okay, Maes. It's only Ed. He was just taken back to surgery for a broken rib and punctured lung, courtesy of Colonel Stratton." Roy explained, hatred in his voice when speaking of the man responsible.
"I'm on my way."
With that, Roy hung up the phone just to pick it back up again. He called Hawkeye, letting her know the situation, then Alphonse who was currently in Resembool, and a finally Havoc, telling him he had the day off and was free to join him at the hospital. It was clear that he had a soft spot for the kid.
Roy twiddled his thumbs for a few hours waiting for news on Edward, as his mind was too full to be able to focus on reading one of the provided magazines or papers. Slowly people began to show up. First was Hughes, who just paced around the room anxiously, then it was Havoc, who was absent for nervous cigarette breaks more than he was in the waiting room, and eventually Hawkeye was there too, having finished her own and Roy's paperwork for the day. (God bless her)
Roy spent the whole time planning his revenge on Stratton.
The tense silence was broken when a tall man in mint green scrubs waltzed through the double doors, pulling a blue surgical mask down from his face, revealing a thick white mustache. Roy shot to his feet, closely followed by everyone else. The surgeon nodded to them in acknowledgement.
"I take it you're all here for Edward Elric?" He asked, his voice full and calming. Following a few nods, he continued. "Right. The surgery went well, he suffered a traumatic pneumothorax, and a rather large one at that. The damage to his lung was repaired with little complication, and the fractured rib was realigned and fixated with a titanium plate to keep it in place. A chest tube has been inserted to drain the area surrounding the lungs of any excess air. There is a small fracture in the left orbital bone, but it should heal on it's own, and the gash on his face received 5 stitches. All in all, everything looks well and he should be on the road to a full recovery." Everyone visibly relaxed at the notion that Ed would be okay. "If you'll follow me, I can take you to his room. He's not awake yet, but it might do him some good to see some familiar face when he comes around." Roy nodded, and they all followed anxiously after the doctor. They padded down a long hallway with doors on either side, stopping in front of a door near the end. They all piled into the room with quiet footsteps so as to not wake the sleeping form settled on a bed in the center of the room. The soft beeping of heart rate monitors and quiet puffs of oxygen filled the room, accompanied by Ed's raspy breaths. His red coat had been removed and was folded at the foot of the bed, his bare torso covered with bandages, tubes, and wires. Despite all of this, Ed wore a peaceful look on his face. Roy picked up the folded coat and sat on the edge of the bed, fingers trailing over the bloodstained fabric. Stratton would pay for this. Ed shifted on the bed, flesh hand coming up to rest protectively over the large incision mark covered with bandages. He let out a barely audible groan.
"Ed, you awake?" Asked Roy softly, laying a hand on Ed's lap. His golden eyes fluttered open, glazed over with sleep and dilated with medication. He glanced around the room, noticing the white walls and beeping of machinery. He grimaced.
"Ew." He croaked, stretching his arms a bit, being careful not to pull on his stitches. He let his arms fall slack as his head lolled to the side. "What'm I here for this time?" He asked groggily.
"Colonel Stratton broke your rib, and it punctured your lung. You needed surgery to repair it. Do you remember?" Roy replied, still keeping his voice low. Ed's head teetered indecisively.
"Hm...Vaguely." He decided, leaning his head against his pillow. "Can't remember much of anything right now. My brain's all fuzzy. S'fine, though. I like sleepovers." He added. Roy raised a brow.
"Ed, this isn't a sleepover. You're in the hospital." Roy replied, worried the kid might have lost his grip on reality. Ed shook his head.
"Is so, I've got pillow and blankets and you guys are all here. It's totally a sleepover." Ed argued, pushing his blankets down off of his chest and down to his waist. "Truth or dare?" He asked drowsily. Roy blinked owlishly at him.
"Um... You okay, Ed?" Roy wondered aloud, albeit confused.
"I'm fine! Now truth or dare?" Roy was beginning to think it was the drugs talking.
"Ed..." He started, trying to think of a response.
"Fine, fine! You ask me. And somebody get party snacks! Like dip! And chips! Chips and dip!" Roy let his head fall in his hands. The kid was going to be just fine.