Chapter 19: Stitches and Sanctions

Mustang's stomach grumbled as he sat beside Ed, watching over him. He desperately wanted to step out of the room and find something to snack on. The coffee from earlier was but a distant thought, and he knew if he didn't at least get something small it would come back to bite him in the ass.

However, Roy knew that if he left to get food and, in that time, Riza and Alphonse happened to make it back, Al would never forgive him.

Roy groaned, running his fingers through his grease-tinged hair. Why did he always get stuck playing babysitter? He was a Colonel for crying out loud, hopefully someday soon to be a General.

Not that he minded…to an extent. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that he at least needed to call Headquarters later today to relay information to his superiors. It wouldn't look ideal for him to be out of the office without the notification, he supposed.

Maybe Hawkeye would be willing to do that for him… Roy hoped. He knew she very likely would not be willing as that was "his responsibility", but a small part of him grasped onto the hope nonetheless.

A soft knock at the door had him looking up and out of his thoughts, and it opened to reveal Dr. Guía and one of the nurses Roy thought he remembered seeing earlier this morning.

"Good morning, Colonel," the doctor greeted him, motioning to the nurse to get things set up on the bedside table. Roy watched as they maneuvered expertly around the space, setting out tools and other equipment.

"Kid ripped open some of his stitches huh?" He asked, though Roy assumed he already knew the answer.

"It was bound to happen at some point," Roy admitted, rolling his eyes lightheartedly. Granted, it had all been a little more traumatic and stressful than he'd have anticipated, but Edward was not known for his cooperation with authority figures, hospital staff especially.

"Even still, I'm going to take a look and see where we need to patch him up. I know he's sleeping right now, but my nurse is going to go ahead and give him some sedation through the line to keep him comfortable," the doctor explained.

"Should we not wake him first?" Roy asked. "Let him know what's going on?"

Dr. Guía paused, and Roy could see the sympathy and concern from behind his rounded frames.

"Usually yes… but given what I was told happened earlier, we'd rather keep him quiet and take care of things quickly. The last thing I want is to stress him out more, and cause further harm."

"Unfortunately, in situations like these, we have to take the utmost caution. He's been through a lot and we want to respect that, but he is still a State Alchemist: a powerful one at that."

Roy nodded, unsure whether to feel proud or ashamed. Ed's reputation preceded him even in a situation like this. It was an odd line they had to toe; Mustang admitted. The military was supposed to be both adored and respected, but the respect often came from tangled roots of fear and unease.

Roy watched the nurse and doctor get things set up, talking amongst themselves softly, though Ed was oblivious to it all. Mustang almost felt bad for him, not knowing what was going on. A part of him felt violated on Ed's behalf, but he also knew what likely would happen should Ed have been woken up first.

"I can sense you're uncomfortable with all of this Colonel," Dr. G noted sparing a glance at Roy. "If you'd prefer us to wait, or wake him up prior, we can. You are his legal guardian and superior officer, and can make those decisions."

Mustang found himself at a loss for words, and unease settled into a ball in his stomach.

He didn't want to make decisions like this for Edward.

He didn't want to take that autonomy away from him. Ed had already had so much of his free-will stolen out from under him, and it felt wrong for Mustang to further contribute to that.

"It's fine, you can proceed," Mustang said after a moment's pause. It was for the best, he assured himself, Ed gripping his hair and shrieking not something he was keen to repeat.

The doctor nodded, and Roy watched the nurse inject something into the fluid line.

The ball of iron continued to grow, and Mustang's earlier hunger dissipated.

The nurse worked to start removing the bandages off of Edward's chest, allowing them to see where the wound had reopened. She helped hold him up while the doctor unwrapped them from his back, setting him back down once all had been removed.

Ed didn't stir once.

Mustang was relieved his appetite had waned, otherwise the sight in front of him may have had him adding to the metal bucket beside Ed's bed.

Several scrapes and lacerations decorated the alchemist's chest, and flashes from their battle yesterday danced through Mustang's memory. The largest gash on his chest was sewn up, but a small part of it had indeed reopened. Blood was crusted around it where it had begun to clot on its own, and the nurse gingerly started cleaning the area with an antiseptic.

It looked bad, Mustang admitted, but it paled against everything else laying bare and exposed. A dark bruise covered most of Ed's abdomen, stretching across his stomach in a patchwork of purples, yellows, and reds. Despite the splotchy covering, it did little to hide Ed's ribs that threatened to pierce through his skin.

Roy knew his poker face was failing, and he brought a hand up to cover his mouth in anguish. He knew Ed had lost weight, had been losing weight, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight in front of him.

He looked more skeleton than boy, more dead than alive. Roy knew Ed had been eating with the team when they sat down for lunches, but he wondered just how bad things were outside of that for Ed to have gotten to this point so quickly.

"Feel free to step out if you need to Colonel," Dr. G said softly, injecting what likely was a numbing agent around the wound's edges.

"I-I'm alright, thank you doctor," Roy responded. "I've certainly seen worse."

The doctor hummed in response, turning back to start working on the stitching process. Roy admired his prowess as he laced up the gaping wound with ease.

"I've no doubt you've seen your fair share of carnage having fought in Ishval," the doctor started. "I was in the field out there for only a few months toward the end of things, and even that was more than enough for me."

"I didn't realize you had served," Roy responded. He knew there were several doctors around Central that were military, but it always caught him off guard.

"Oh not quite, I was called to volunteer my services and help, but I never enlisted with the military. I'm just a regular ol' doctor with a little extra automail experience," Dr G chuckled lightly.

"That's putting things lightly," Roy smirked, knowing the doctor was much more experienced and skilled than he was letting on.

"Perhaps," the doctor said with a smile, continuing his work on the fallen alchemist. "I'll have a nurse bring up some food later, hopefully Ed wakes up with an appetite."

Roy couldn't do much more than nod, knowing the doctor likely sensed that to be the main cause for his discomfort.

"I'll also have one of our psychiatrists on staff stop by later to speak with Edward, if he wants," Dr. Guía added. "I know we're focused on getting him stable, but I'm sure he could benefit from having someone to talk to about everything. I don't know all the details, but I do know that we have several staff members here who have dealt with this sort of thing before."

"That would be great," Roy said, relief coating his words thickly. As much as he wanted Ed to come to him, or Hawkeye, he knew that someone trained would be much more beneficial for him.

Roy doubted Ed would want to talk about anything just yet, but it didn't hurt to try.

"Ok I'm all finished here," Dr. Guía stood and started discarding the equipment he used. Him and the nurse worked together to re-bandage Ed's chest, and Mustang was thankful for the barrier between him and the emaciated child in front of him. Al certainly wouldn't need or want to see that just yet either, Mustang thought.

Once everything was done, Dr G hung around and spoke to Mustang more in detail about steps moving forward. He wanted Ed to stay in the hospital for at least a week, so they could continue to monitor his bruising and wait out any potential lasting organ damage.

Roy expected as much, though he knew even in his current state Ed would still be pissed about it.

They were just finishing up discussing some of the details when Ed stirred, slowly returning to consciousness. His eyes lazily fell on Mustang, who gave him a soft smile.

"How do you feel?" Roy asked, hoping the numbing agents were still keeping Ed comfortable and pain-free.

Ed didn't respond, his eyes drifting to the doctor who was standing beside Roy. Mustang could see the panic settling in, and he took a slow step forward.

"Ed this is Dr. Guía, he specializes in automail injuries and is overseeing your care while you're here."

The doctor gave an awkward wave, "You can call me Dr. G."

Ed slowly propped himself up into a sitting position using his remaining arm, eyes unwavering from where they were locked on the doctor. Roy could feel the tension, and knew Ed was trying to put distance between himself and the doctor.

"Ed, it's ok," Roy started slowly. "Dr. Guía was just fixing up some of your stitches that came open earlier."

It was a stupid thing to say, Roy would admit later.

He should have waited.

Shouldn't have said anything.

Ed's eyes widened and he immediately looked down at the now-clean bandages that covered his entire upper torso. His body trembled as his eyes returned to rest on the doctor's face.

"How do they feel?" The doctor asked, "Hopefully they won't give you any more trouble."

Ed looked up at the doctor, who was giving him a soft smile. He knew the doctor meant well, he knew that he was just trying to help. Yet everything in him screamed to get away, that this man had touched him while he was helpless to do anything to prevent it.

The doctor stepped forward slowly, and Ed could see his mouth moving. He likely was repeating his prior inquiry, but as he moved closer the light from the window reflected off his glasses and something in Ed snapped.

Hohenheim advanced swiftly and grabbed Ed's face, jerking it up so that Ed's eyes met his.

Golden fury stared back at him, and Ed could barely make out his own face in the reflection of Hohenheim's glasses before Hohenheim continued. His neck ached with the strain, but he didn't dare move his head away from where Hohenheim was holding it in place.

"-in the hospital, you're safe-"

"You look at me when you're talking to me," He snarled.

"The military was wrong to hire you to be their dog."

"-dward!"

"It's your fault."

"Her blood is still on your hands."

"You make me sick."

Ed flinched hard as the door to his room shut, and his eyes whipped around in panic. He could barely make out Roy standing in front of him, speaking to him. Everything else was nothing more than a hazy blur.

"Breathe Edward, in and out with me," Mustang urged him, desperation leaking into his voice.

Ed hadn't realized he was breathing erratically, and everything came crashing back down on him as he was pulled back to the hospital room forcefully. His lungs burned and he felt his chest constrict with panic.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't breathe.

Someone was shouting, or at the least talking loudly, Ed realized. His hand had flown to his chest at some point and was gripping the bandages with steel, knuckles white.

"-metal!"

Fullmetal.

He hadn't been called that in a while.

Ed forced himself to look at Mustang once again, who was as wide-eyed as he was. Mustang kept pointing to his chest, and Ed tracked his movements slowly.

"Breathe with me Ed, please," Mustang repeated.

The doctor had left the room when Ed started to panic, realizing he was likely only making things worse. Roy had tried to apologize, but he could tell the doctor didn't take it personally.

Ed's eyes had glazed over, and despite Mustang speaking to him he hadn't seemed to be able to hear him. It was a look Mustang recognized, and he knew that Ed was far from the hospital room in Central.

"Ed you're in the hospital, you're safe," Mustang had tried to convince him, but Ed was still breathing fast and looking off into the distance. It wasn't until the doctor left and the door shut that he was snapped out of whatever memories he was reliving.

Roy could tell that he was more aware of his surroundings, but still panicked. If he didn't start breathing soon, he would pass out.

"Breathe with me Ed, please," Mustang begged. Ed's eyes had fallen on him, and he was watching Mustang's exaggerated movements intently.

Roy outstretched his hand slowly, carefully. Ed looked at it with hesitation before shakily placing his palm against Roy's.

He vaguely registered Mustang moving his hand until it rested against his chest, so that Ed could follow along with him. Mustang's hand never left Ed's and the calloused palms helped ground him, prevent Hohenheim from haunting his vision once again.

It took time, but eventually Ed's breathing slowed to match Roy's, the entire time Roy reminding Ed where they were, and what was going on. When Ed moved to pull his hand back Roy let him, watching as the kid laid back down so that he was curled in on himself.

"Ed? Do you want to talk about it?" He dared ask, hoping he would at the least talk to him about something. Anything.

Golden eyes meeting his were the only confirmation that the boy had heard what he'd said.

"Do your stitches feel ok?" Mustang asked instead, hoping that would garner a reaction at the least.

Ed glanced down at them, still wheezing, before nodding slowly.

He'd lost it.

Again.

Ed's chest ached and he was exhausted, but even more so he was embarrassed. Ashamed.

This was the second time Mustang had had to walk him through a panic attack within the last 24 hours. Or was it the third?

Ed felt tears well up in his eyes and he blinked them away harshly, refusing to let Mustang see any more vulnerability from him.

Hohenheim was right, Ed thought with a grimace, he was weak.

Mustang asked him something else but Ed ignored it, unsure of what to say to the man. Everything was happening so fast, one moment it seemed he had been fighting rogue alchemists alongside them feeling like himself again, and the next he was hospitalized and on display.

He hated that everyone seemed to know what was going on with him, despite the fact that he'd told no one. Hadn't spoken a word about it.

They knew nothing, Ed scowled. They didn't know what he had been through, what Hohenheim had done to him.

And they will never know.

It was a promise to himself, and Ed intended to keep it. He knew Mustang was growing agitated by his lack of response, and while he was nervous of what he might do he cared more about keeping his mouth shut.

Let Mustang hurt him, Ed thought, his chest heaving.

He deserved it.

Mustang tried to make conversation, get Ed to open up and at least talk to him. He tried to ask about Alphonse, about cats, about alchemy, but Ed continued to curl up and ignore him.

Mustang was getting frustrated, but knew his frustration was misguided. He was still angry with Hohenheim, angry with himself for everything that was happening, angry with himself for agreeing to let the doctor patch Ed up without his consent.

He knew it was the right decision in the moment, and that Ed needed to be stitched up while he was knocked out. However, that ball of unease from earlier barreled back in full force once Ed woke up, and he knew that either way no decision he'd have made would have been "right".

Roy watched Ed jump as the door opened once more, Hawkeye and Alphonse walking through. It pained him to see Ed so jumpy and easily-startled, but he knew it was to be expected.

"Is he awake?" Alphonse asked, not wanting to walk to the other side and potentially disturb Ed with his creaking.

Roy nodded, not knowing how to put into words what exactly was going on. Sure Ed was awake, but would he talk to them? Would he acknowledge them?

The blonde hadn't moved after his initial jump, didn't lift his head to meet Alphonse's concerned gaze.

"Ed? Hawkeye and I brought you some snacks from the vending machine downstairs," Alphonse said, sifting through a plastic bag to pull out a small sleeve of crackers.

He walked to the other side of the bed, setting them on the table in front of Ed's face. "I thought your stomach might be ok with these," he pointed out.

Ed didn't respond, didn't turn to look at him. Roy watched Alphonse pause for a moment before sighing, setting the bag on the floor and sitting in his 'watch-chair' once again.

"How is he?"

Hawkeye came to stand next to Roy, and he shook his head with a tight-lipped frown.

"Dr. G came in and fixed his stitches, but Ed wasn't the biggest fan of having been knocked out for the procedure."

Riza nodded slowly beside him, putting together the missing pieces Roy didn't want to voice.

"He had a pretty bad panic attack when you both left, and again when he woke up to the doctor in here. I'm sure he's exhausted."

Ed bit his lip from where he was curled up, tears once again pooling in his eyes. He hated how they spoke about him as if he wasn't there, wasn't the one going through everything.

It's because they pity you, a small voice in the back of his head chided in.

They pity you and your brother; they think you're weak. Helpless. Useless.

Tears hit the pillow under him softly, Ed too slow to have blinked them away before they fell.

"I called the office for you while we were out," Riza mentioned. "The Fuhrer will be informed of your imminent leave of absence as all of this gets sorted out, and the team knows not to expect you in for a bit."

Roy could have kissed her.

"Gods, thank you," he said instead. "Is Havoc ok?"

"Breda said he'd be fine. He's concussed and upset about being on leave but resting comfortably at home."

Roy nodded; thankful it wasn't worse.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be able to be out, however. I told Havoc that I would be helping you and Edward for the next couple days, but they likely will expect me back sooner."

"Of course," Roy nodded with a grimace. "Military work doesn't stop for anyone."

"That it does not."

Mustang stepped out later, now that Alphonse and Riza were back. He made his way down to the hospital cafeteria and purchased a small meal.

It wasn't great, nor was it comparable to the food at headquarters, but it was enough to ease the ache growing in his stomach.

I shouldn't have had coffee on an empty stomach, Mustang thought with a groan.

"Colonel Mustang?"

One of the receptionists had stepped into the cafeteria and spotted him, beckoning him over.

Mustang shoveled the last of the food into his mouth before standing to meet her.

"There's someone on the phone for you," she said, leading him to the phones on the main floor of the building.

Roy thanked her, pulling the phone from its spot on the wall.

"Colonel Mustang speaking."

"Colonel…"

It was Breda, and from what Roy could tell from the two seconds he'd been on the phone, he sounded uneasy.

"Second Lieutenant," Mustang responded. "Hawkeye told me she spoke with you all earlier."

"Ah yeah, she did. Filled us in on everything. We're all glad the boss is going to be ok… er…kind of ok."

"What's this about Breda?" Roy asked, anxiously needing him to get to the point.

"We heard back from the station, Van Hohenheim's arraignment date has been set."

Mustang paled, his hands gripping the phone until he was certain he was going to break it.

"Already?! It's barely been 24 hours…"

"I guess they were wanting to speed things up, what with a State Alchemist being involved and all."

Mustang sighed, resting his head against the cool, tiled wall.

"Well? When's the arraignment scheduled for?"

There was silence on the line and Roy could hear Breda fumbling with the cord of the receiver.

"Breda."

"A week. sir. It's been scheduled for a week out."

Roy was silent. He swore he heard a crack as his hands only tightened further in their grip on the hard plastic.

A week.

Edward was supposed to be hospitalized for at least that, and he was in no state to attend something like that. Hohenheim's charges and conditions for release would be on display, including everything he'd done to Ed.

Where Hohenheim himself would be there, in the flesh.

Roy was going to kill him.

"That's not all, sir…" Breda added, and for a second Roy had forgotten he was still on the other end of the line.

"They want Fullmetal to attend, if possible. They said it's important to the case to have him there, even if he doesn't make a statement. That way they can discuss the date for the preliminary hearing."

"Of fucking course they do," Roy snapped, not caring for his informality. "Just who do these bastards think they are?"

"I-I wish I could say, sir," Breda responded. "If it were up to me, this would be pushed back at least two if not three weeks. It's a bit strange for them to move so quickly."

"Well, it's like you said. A State Alchemist is involved, so of course they want to actually be punctual about it."

"Do you think Hohenheim is pressuring them to move it up quickly? Does he have that kind of power?"

Mustang paled, his stomach churning and the food he ate earlier making him nauseous. Hohenheim was a powerful man with powerful connections, it wouldn't surprise him if he'd been able to get a hold of the right people to make it happen.

"He's going to wish he hadn't," Mustang growled. Fire danced behind his eyes, and he knew that if he saw that man again anytime soon he wouldn't be able to restrain himself.

Breda chuckled anxiously on the other end of the line.

"Don't worry Colonel, at this point everyone on the team is aching for a piece of him."

As their superior officer he shouldn't condone such actions, such violence, but Mustang couldn't help the cruel grin that found its way to his face. He was damn proud to lead such a team, and his heart beamed at the sentiment.

"I'll be sure to let Fullmetal know," Mustang said after a moment. "About the court date and the line of people ready to commit felonies for him. Might boost his spirits."

Breda laughed, and they ended the call shortly after. Mustang's hands shook as he placed the receiver back on the wall, and he shoved his hands into his pockets as he made his way to the stairs.

He'd put up an air of confidence for his subordinate, but he was terrified. Terrified of having to tell Edward that they were expecting him in court within a week, expecting him to be able to be in the same room as that monster.

Roy paused outside of Ed's room, trying to come up with what he was going to say. Did he tell him now? Did he wait a couple more days?

Before he could commit to a decision the door opened and a short, dark-haired woman exited. She had a clipboard in her hands, and a set of kind green eyes.

"You must be Colonel Mustang," she said with a forced smile. "Dr. Melanie Cain, psychiatrist."

Mustang shook her outstretched hand, grateful that she had ended up stopping by.

"How did it go?"

Dr. Cain signed, shaking her head in exasperation.

"It's going to take time, lots of time I'm afraid. But we'll get there eventually."

It wasn't a straightforward answer, but Roy knew she likely couldn't share explicit details anyway. He thanked her for her time and let her get to her next patient, walking into the room.

Ed hadn't moved from where Roy had left him to get food, and he sighed making his way over to where Riza was sitting at the end of the room.

"Dr. Cain seems nice," he muttered.

"She is," Riza responded. She had an odd look on her face, and Roy knew he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

"Let me guess," Roy tried to keep his voice to a whisper, "Ed snapped at her, or didn't give her real answers to any of her questions."

Riza chuckled sadly and shook her head.

"Actually…he didn't say anything at all," she mumbled. "He didn't even turn to acknowledge her, just pretended she wasn't there."

Roy bit his tongue, his hands wringing in his pockets anxiously. He'd have preferred Ed at the least tear into her than ignore her all together. He knew this was going to be a long road, but he hadn't expected that kind of a response. Or…lack of response.

"She's going to come back later and try again," Riza informed him. "But…I don't know, I have a feeling it's going to take a lot of time before he's willing to speak with someone about all of this. Us included."

Roy nodded in agreement.

"You were downstairs a while," Hawkeye turned to him. "Everything ok?"

Now it was Mustang's turn to chortle sadly.

"Breda called, again."

"Is everything ok?" Riza asked, worry evident in her tone.

Roy glanced up at where Al was talking to Edward, who was still curled up ignoring everything. Anxiety boiled in his stomach, and with a shaky gulp he motioned to the door and the two of them got up.

"Let's talk outside."

A/N: The writing gods remain appeased and I am undeniably grateful. Getting back into writing has been so cathartic, and while I cannot predict how long this will keep up I will certainly take advantage of the moment.

For those of you that dislike hospital scenes, don't worry - we're almost to the end of it. They aren't my favorite to write despite having a medical background (with animals not people lol), and while necessary I am excited to move past them. For those that enjoy hospital scenes, I guess enjoy it while it lasts haha.

I won't go too much into the court things as I admittedly know little about how it all works, and I'm sure I've already set off alerts with the minimum I had to research haha. But in due time we'll get there and I'll go into it at least a little. In the meantime, enjoy!