The Consequences of a Lack of Foresight

Ed woke up a little more relaxed. Catharsis was a wonderful thing. There was a note on the coffee table in front of him.

Help yourself to the kitchen. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.

Ed smiled. Mustang didn’t always have to be an arrogant ass. Mustang stocked good coffee and apparently routinely made his own breakfast as there was plenty of fresh bread, eggs, sausages, and bacon. Ed had a little of all the above.

Ed wondered back out of the kitchen/dining room—it seemed the actual dining room was more of an expanded study as there were a few stacks of books and papers—with a mug of coffee in hand and a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth. He occupied himself the entire day reading Mustang’s library. He was surprised not to find anything on Mustang’s specialty, Flame Alchemy. He trudged through, having to respect the man more for his taste in research. The books and papers on the dining room table he left untouched, choosing to read on the floor or in the arm chair.

-----

Hawkeye didn’t ask about Ed all morning, but that was more because there wasn’t time. At lunchtime, she pried Mustang away from the office to the officer’s mess.

“Did Ed come over?”

“Yeah, he did. I let him crash on the couch.”

“Is he alright? He seemed a little . . . less manic than normal.”

“After all that’s happened, we all have a new normal standard.”

“True. Especially he and his brother.”

“Thank you for not directly asking though. I don’t feel it would be right to discuss his problems.”

“I figured that. But I question his judgment in coming to you.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Well, you aren’t exactly the most sympathetic man in the world. And you were always sniping at each other.”

“True. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought the same thing. But we always respected each other and we’re both alchemists. I mean, we were.”

“That’s right; I forgot.” And it all came together for her. “I guess you were the best choice to come talk to.” Mustang wasn’t as surprised by her insight anymore, but it did give him pause. “It’s not like I lost my abilities.”

“I know,” she said simply.

“How do you do it?”

“I’m a woman.”

“Humph.”

-----

Mustang worked late as usual. Hawkeye tried to shoo him out on time, but he resisted. She must have known Ed would still be at his house— Mustang didn’t know that; he figured Ed would have eaten everything in his kitchen and left by now.

But then the phone rang. Hawkeye answered.

“Oh, hello, Edward.” Pause. “Well, I did try to send him home, but you know how he is.” Pause. “Grudgingly.” Pause. “I’ll force him to leave within the hour.” Pause. “Goodnight, Ed.”

“What the hell was that?”

“Ed wondered if he should make you dinner.”

“Excuse me?”

“He got preoccupied going through your library and realized the time and wondered if you’d be coming home anytime soon and if he should make something for just himself or both of you. He’s making something for both of you.”

Mustang’s mouth was gaped. It wasn’t Ed reading his books, not even him potentially reading his journals or his official work—the journals were coded of course and would take even Ed several days to start to figure them out and the official papers . . . if he could get enthused about those he could work on them and save Mustang the bother—or him eating him out of house and home or the fact he was making himself at home—he did write that he could in that note this morning—it was the idea of someone making him dinner. It felt so . . . domestic.

“Are you just going to stare at me all night?”

“Better than the alternative,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m sorry, General?”

“Nothing. I guess I can take a few of these papers home.”

“Like the ones still there and overdue.”

“I’ll get them done. I guess I should go home and play at being a good host. What are you smirking at?”

“Nothing, General. Goodnight.”

He muttered something in return. How was it he was always getting into strange situations when an Elric was involved?

-----

Mustang came home to an unlocked door and the smell of decent cooking. Shucking his jacket, hanging it—next to a red coat, he noted—he made for the kitchen as he started pulling off his white gloves. The sight of Ed’s ass protruding from the refrigerator greeted him. He couldn’t suppress a smirk. Not a bad thing to come home to. He was horrified by the thought a moment later.

“I didn’t suspect you were a chef,” Mustang said, smiling at the desired affect: Ed hit his head against a shelf.

Ed turned with a carrot hanging from his lips. “You really are annoying when you try.”

“I have to try? What you’d make?”

“Steak. You didn’t exactly leave me many options. I was looking to see what vegetables you had for salad, but you don’t even have lettuce. Why you have just carrots is beyond me.”

“Good for the vision.” That mortified Ed a little more than Mustang intended even with the smile he’d added.

Ed spied the sheaf of papers under Mustang’s arm. “Hawkeye still a slave driver when it comes to paperwork?”

“Sort of. I’ll deposit these and get cleaned up.”

Ed couldn’t help thinking, If that’s what you call messy . . . He shook the thought out of his head.

They were both glad that Ed’s break down last night didn’t seem to be causing any awkwardness today.

Mustang set down his new stack of papers next to his older ones and stared at the assembled lot on his dining room table. He picked them up again and moved everything to his seldom used—at least not for military work—study. He dusted off the dining room table’s surface then went to change and clean up.

Mustang reappeared in the kitchen still in his white military undershirt, but in more comfortable casual pants. To Ed’s surprise, he took the dishes back out to the dining room.

“But your—”

“I might as well use it for its intended purpose once in a while.”

They both realized how nice it really was to eat like normal human beings once in a while. They were both habitual alone, at least at dinner.

To break the silence, Mustang explained, “It seems awfully lonely to eat in here alone, so I took to eating in the kitchen.”

“But a good place for study,” Ed commented. “Lots of light and room to spread out.”

“Exactly.”

“All alchemists are alchemist I guess.” He was chagrined after he said it.

“Maybe you should give it up completely. If it’s painful to be reminded, maybe you should avoid reminders.”

“I feel like that would be a waste of my entire life up ‘til now. It’s one of the few things I know.”

“How about teaching?”

“That would just be embarrassing. I know everything in the world about alchemy, but I can’t even give a simple demonstration.”

“When people hear why you can’t do it, they will revere you.”

“Like they’d believe a story like that.”

“I’d back you up.”

“You?”

“Of course. Brigadier General Roy Mustang and future Fuhrer!” Mustang posed as ridiculously as he could while sitting. Ed Snickered. “At least you’d be able to use your knowledge.”

“Maybe. Resembool isn’t exactly an alchemy Mecca.”

“True, you’d have to come to Central or one of the other large cities. It’s not bad though, right? At least you have friends here.”

Ed smiled. “It’s something to think about. By the way, sorry to still be imposing on you. I started reading while I was finishing my coffee and I couldn’t stop. I can find a hotel tonight.”

“After you made me dinner? If you want to stay, stay. Save your money.”

“You were never this generous when we were assigned here.”

“You were under my command. And there were two of you. And two State Alchemists under the same roof at the time with Scar trying to kill us all off? Not a good idea.”

Ed nodded his agreement.

“How long do you think you’ll stay?”

“Suddenly starting to regret the offer?” Ed said slyly.

“No, just wondering if it would be long enough to clean up the spare bedroom.”

Ed was caught off guard again. “Well, you’ve given me something to think about. Teaching. I guess I did figure I’d take on an apprentice one day. I’ll look into it. If that doesn’t look like a good option, I’ll go back to Resembool.”

Was that a thrill of fear running up his spine? Mustang realized that he was lonely and he missed Ed’s vitriol.

“Or maybe an advisor. You could be a civilian advisor to the State Alchemists. We’ve decided to reform the State Alchemists, not get rid of them all together. We’re scaling them back. We want to deemphasize their military use. I hope we never have to use them again except as a last line of defense; never for offence.”

“Hmm.” Ed chewed for a moment. “You need a hand cleaning out the spare bedroom?”

Mustang chuckled and the worried knot in his stomach loosened.

-----

Mustang took the dishes away, but Ed pushed him out of the way of the sink. “I’ll do it. Think of it as rent.”

Mustang accepted that and returned his paper work and books to the dining room table and tried to at least catch up while his guest was occupied.

Ed came out of the kitchen to find the dining room back to its pre-dinner state. Some finger combing allowed Mustang’s bangs to hang attractively in his eyes like they did when he was merely a colonel with grand ambition.

“Anything I can help you with?”

“No, it’s all drudgery.”

“That’s why I figured you’d need the help.”

Mustang knew from experience you didn’t argue with an Elric unless you planned to enjoy it. “Does looking up regulations sound too dull?”

“Not at all.”

They started the evening with Mustang reading and signing and calling out regulation numbers and Ed looking them up and reading them to him, or Mustang paraphrasing one from memory and asking Ed for the proper number. All those years doing research came in handy. In between requests, Ed read through the regulations; if he was going to be reading any of these things, he wanted to completely understand it all. But soon Mustang was letting Ed handle things not classified and handed everything having to do with alchemy to him. With his help, Mustang finished everything before midnight.

“Finished. Thank you. I didn’t mean to conscript you.”

“Anything I can do to help. Despite the pep talk, I’m still feeling useless; it feels good to be of some use.”

“Right now, I want you on my staff.” They both chuckled. “I’ve only got a few hours before I’ve got to face Hawkeye. She’ll know you helped me and I’m not looking forward to her scolding.”

“You still have your old staff?”

“All but Havoc.” Mustang smiled. “Marcho is wonderful. Havoc might come back in a year or so. But he’s walking. I have a larger staff, but the others are all still with me.”

“Mind if I follow you in tomorrow, say hi.”

“Sure. Then we can commandeer a car for you again.”

They made their way into the living room and Mustang toward his bedroom. He turned to speak, but Ed stopped him. “You have to be human and work in the morning and your sofa is very comfortable.”

Mustang smirked. “Goodnight, Edward.” He left him.

Ed hesitated before he started stripping. A sheet was thrown at him from the dark hallway. Ed turned to snipe, but he saw Mustang turning on his light with his back to him before he shut the door.

Ed smiled and bedded down. He fell asleep thinking how good his name sounded when Mustang said it.

-----

Getting out of Mustang’s car, Ed insisted on carrying the papers. “It doesn’t befit a Brigadier General to be carrying huge stacks of papers like a flunky.”

So Roy let him do it. He got a few strange looks from those who didn’t know who this young man was, even stranger ones from people who did know. When they reached Mustang’s door, he took the stack from Ed. “I don’t want Hawkeye to see you carrying stuff for me.”

“Oh?” Mustang and Ed’s spines stiffened. They turned like boy’s caught sneaking cookies to see Hawkeye right behind them.

“He offered,” Mustang tried to defend himself.

“I see.” She turned to Ed. “Nice to see you again so soon, Ed.”

The Brigadier General turned to open his door with an armful of papers for his subordinate and former subordinate. One of his newer subordinates bolted up and took the papers from him, took them into the next room, and placed them on the Brigadier General’s desk. The rest of the newer ones stood and saluted.

His old staff stood for another reason. “Edward!”

Mustang saluted and said, “At ease.” His old staff never heard him. Roy stalked into his office while Ed got reacquainted with the others.

Mustang got his papers in order, got them ready to go out, and started on a new pile. Hawkeye came in with coffee. Oh, god no. She put the cup down and he stared at it as if some horrible creature, like Pride or that son of a bitch Envy, would spring from the dark liquid.

“Get enough sleep?”

“Adequate,” Mustang answered.

“If Ed’s disrupting your schedule, I can find him a place in the dorms for free.”

“He’s not disruptive. I mean, he’s not an imposition.”

“How many documents did he do?”

“Why do you assume he helped?”

“Because they’re done.”

“He helped me look up regulations.”

“Of course, General.”

“Will you stop it already? I didn’t ask him. I’m sorry. You’re right, I should do them myself. Okay.”

She smiled. “How long is Ed staying?”

“I don’t know. Maybe indefinitely. He’s looking for something to do, I suggested a few things. If nothing pans out, he’ll go back home.”

“To Winrey?”

Mustang felt the blood drain from his face. His lips felt cold. “Probably. I don’t think he’s mentioned her.”

What was that smirk about?

Ed was waiting just outside the door when Hawkeye finally left. He stepped in. “You know, I don’t really have anywhere to go really. I think I’ve read every book in Central and there’s not really anything else I want to do. Can I help?”

“I don’t think so, Hawkeye brought me coffee.”

Ed winced. Mustang decided he should taste it. He braced himself. It was . . . decent. There was still a look of shock when Hawkeye reentered.

“Edward, if you’re going to stay, do you think you could help the General? He’s useless with paperwork.”

“Sure. I’d love to be of help.” Ed was hanging up his coat and Mustang hadn’t closed his mouth or schooled his expression.

What the hell is going on in that woman’s mind?

-----

Mustang cooked this time. With Ed’s help, there were no papers to bring home.

“I think Hawkeye’s hired you. I swear she manipulated this to get someone good at paperwork.”

“Can a civilian do a Brigadier General’s paperwork?”

“They can now. You better look into that teaching position before she digs her claws into you.”

“I don’t know. Seems like a comfortable position. And I can be of use to the future Fuhrer.”

“I hope you don’t feel like you owe me for anything.”

“Not really. You were using us almost as much as you helped us. You got into all that while walking under your own steam. My father may have been involved and maybe even at blame for all of it, but I don’t think I owe you enough to choose the rest of my life based on it. You got your vision back in the end. I suppose I would blame myself if you were still blind.”

I’m not sure I’m not still blind. He was starting to get the feeling he’d been in denial for two days. He’s damaged, that’s why you’re feeling for him, it’s nothing more, he argued.

“Well, if I’m ever in need of a seeing-eye dog I’ll know who to call.”

“I’m not sure Den would make a great seeing-eye dog.”

Mustang chuckled. “Are you seriously considering staying with me? I mean, work for me? Again?”

What does that slip mean? Ed wondered. “Well, I don’t know if I can stomach doing paperwork all the time, but between that and the consultant job, I might consider staying here. In Central, I mean.”

He noticed. Mustang tried to not let his dismay show. You are not falling in love with him and he doesn’t think you are; he’s just needling you. “I’ll call a meeting tomorrow to talk about it with the appropriate parties.”

“You know, going through the books you have out here, I was surprised not to see anything on Flame Alchemy; I didn’t want to go into your study without your permission.”

“The only book in this house about Flame Alchemy is my personal notes. I—”

“Say no more. I may not be one anymore, but I still write everything in code, even the crappy observations.”

“There’s no such thing. It’s the smallest details which end up telling us the most when viewed in the right light.”

You mean like that slip earlier? The way you were practically stroking my neck the other night? Or the way I missed the loose, tasseled bangs you had back then? The desire I had to cook for you and help you with tedious work? The fact I came to you instead of my master and second mother? The fact I’m here for the third night whereas I only stayed two with the woman I thought I was ready to marry? How much I loved the way you said my name? That I crave your scent that I smelled that first night? Or the way you’re staring at me now? They’re all small details.

“I wouldn’t trust anyone with your notes. I’ve seen how destructive it can be. It’s dangerous even in the best hands.” Ed gestured to Mustang when he said that.

“The best hands?”

“I supported you from the moment Hawkeye confided your plans. Hawkeye, Havoc, Furey, Falman, Breda, they will all follow you into hell. So would I. I trust you. One reason we would follow you into hell is that we know you wouldn’t lead us there. You called me selfless; you’re almost too concerned for your subordinate’s lives. Your kindness might be your downfall one day if it happens on the battlefield; sort of like that battle demonstration between us. It was mine, quite literally. I fell down a mineshaft and lost a few years off my life to close a fatal wound because I couldn’t bring myself to kill even in self-defense. I wouldn’t feel safe if anyone else knew the secrets of your alchemy and I don’t want to know.”

“Well. You can rest assured that there is no one else living who knows the secrets to Flame Alchemy. My master is dead with no other apprentices.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t trust the military with his research. He was justified. Everyone who even heard stories about Ishval would agree. He wouldn’t teach me after I joined the military. He wouldn’t trust even an idealist like me. He was right not to. He left his discovers in a safe place though. I was entrusted with it. In the end it might have been a good thing, look where we are now. We’ve shaken off the Homunculus and his conspiracy.” But Mustang didn’t sound convinced. “Anyway. I’ll be the last Flame Alchemist.”

“I’m thankful to your master. The Flame Alchemist saved the world.”

“I’m not the only one.”

“I may have done a lot of good, but look at me now. I have no purpose anymore. I understand a little of what you must felt have after Ishval. But you had a goal. I don’t have anything anymore.”

Oh god. Mustang wanted to grab Ed and kiss him, take his mind off everything, all these depressing thoughts, the past, everything. He wanted nothing more than for someone to call him right now and offer him an escape. Hawkeye, I know you have telepathy; please help me! Or if it’s a bug, you know I need an out here, don’t you?

The phone didn’t ring. Mustang tried to come up with something to say to counter Ed’s depression.

“You’ll just have to—”

The phone rang.

Stunned, Mustang answered. This is not what I had in mind. He said a few words and hung up.

“I have to go. I probably won’t be back tonight; you might as well use my bed.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ed sensed an emergency. “Maybe I can help—” Without his alchemy? “Right. Be careful.”

Mustang grabbed his coat, gloves, and hat, putting them on as he rushed out the door. The way Mustang purposefully yanked down on the cuffs of his gloves was clear single that he was expecting to use them.

Ed was worried for him, but he reminded himself that Mustang had destroyed, or nearly destroyed, two Homunculi and helped him kill the boss himself. Similar to what Ed did in that mine shaft, Mustang had used his own flame to cauterize what should have been a fatal wound. Mustang wouldn’t die easily.

Ed took his advice and used his bed. When he laid his head on Mustang’s pillow, he took a deep breath expecting to smell the man, but the sheets and pillow cases were fresh. He lay there trying to feel Mustang in this room. It wasn’t working. With a curse, Ed got up and picked out one of Mustang’s shirts from the hamper in the bathroom. He could smell him. Ed buried his face in the white cotton.

The flinty smell of those gloves was everywhere. The scent had probably soaked into Mustang’s hands and between that and touching things with the gloves, the scent got everywhere. There was a hint of it on the shirt, but it was mostly Mustang. A hint of cologne and the smell of his skin.

After a few moments, Ed angrily threw the shirt back into the hamper. Damn it! I’m falling in love with him!

-----

Mustang got home three hours before he had to head back to headquarters. At least he could get some sleep. He looked over at the sofa, expecting to see the blond, but he wasn’t there. He felt a thrill of fear before he remembered he’d offered him the bed. Why am I so afraid of him leaving? He’s far too young for you and not someone you need to be involved with. It’s not like you don’t have other things to worry about.

He went to his bedroom and found the blond curled up on one side of the bed. His side. It was a king bed, but he was still used to the single twins of the military and tended to sleep close to one side. Mustang thought about using the sofa, but he decided there was enough room on the king.

The light of the half moon lit up the room enough to see the golden hair lying loosely on the pillow. Mustang had the urge to crawl in behind him, bury his face in that hair, and pull Ed against him.

Mustang shook his head. He took his alarm from the nightstand and moved it up. He’d forgo a shower and breakfast, even coffee, to get an extra hour of sleep. He stripped down to the white tank top he wore under his button down shirt and his boxers and lay down on the far opposite side of the bed. He was careful to not disturb the mattress springs, but Ed seemed to dead to the world.

Ed was not as deeply asleep as Mustang thought. Mustang never woke him, but he was too worried about Mustang to sleep in. In fact he woke up early. He got up and turned to go start some coffee, but he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He whirled. What the dark lump across the room was took a moment to register. He smiled; Mustang had made it home. Ed noticed the alarm was set later than he knew an officer should normally wake up; he set it ten minutes earlier then went to start breakfast.

If the alarm were alive, Mustang would have strangled it dead when it went off. He checked the time and remembered: no shower, no breakfast, no coffee. Growling, he dressed in the same uniform as yesterday. Then he remembered he meant to give himself a little longer. He looked to where Ed had been. He was gone.

Mustang found Ed, still not fully dressed and hair loose, cooking a second omelet.

“I better not find any blond hairs in my food.” Mustang practically growled in the morning even without meaning it.

Ed turned, smiling, apparently aware that the growl was not meant for him. “Good morning. Have that one; coffee’s ready.”

Mustang started eating while watching Ed cook. “It still surprises me how good you are at cooking.”

“Cooking is a science, like alchemy. Deconstruct, mix, and reconstruct. In the end there’s flare.”

“I’m glad your ‘flare’ in cooking is not like the ‘flare’ in your alchemy.”

“What’s wrong with my alchemy?”

“Please. You have a dark taste. Like that balcony you repaired after baiting the Homunculi with Scar. You have a thing about skulls.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you create anything, just flames.”

“I’m not one to show off.”

“Humph. As if columns of flame and explosions aren’t showing off.” Ed brought his meal over to the kitchen table. “Should I ask?”

“About last night? Complete rubbish. I have to do the clean up today. Looks like there are some who still feel that we were behind Bradley’s death and the whole thing was a coup. As right as they may be . . .” Mustang looked worn down.

“Are there a lot?”

“Luckily, no. But dealing with them and everyone else who thinks we’re easier pray than Bradley is dumped on me. The old man owes his position to me, but he can be a sadistic old coot.”

“I wish I could help.”

“Even if you still had your alchemy you couldn’t help much. I think having you here in Central might help. You were always a ‘hero of the people.’ People remember you.”

“You want an influential friend by your side.” Ed smirked.

“I wasn’t considering my ambition, just your situation.”

“Sorry. Kneejerk reaction. I do owe you. For your trust back then if not for anything else.”

“No you don’t. I need to get going or Hawkeye will kill me.” He ate the last of food and gulped down the coffee. “Thanks for the breakfast, it means a lot.”

Mustang left Ed sitting there with a small smile on his face. But he was left feeling more useless, like Mustang in the rain.

-----

“Just made it.” Hawkeye announced. “How many people did you mow down?”

“You can’t force me to incriminate myself.” Though I’m worried I did run over one person.

And the day began.

And he wasn’t sure if it got better worse. It would most decidedly end in disaster nevertheless.

Two hours later, Ed walked in. “If figured if you were preoccupied with last night, you’ll get behind on everything else.”

Ed wasn’t really helping him get ahead, or even stay on track. Mustang kept looking up and staring at the blond nearby. He should move him into another room.

Noon. “Full—Ed, mind bringing me some lunch; I’m going to work through and try to finish this.”

“Sure. What you want?”

“Anything.” Just get out of here and stop distracting me.

Ed left and Mustang sat back and rubbed his face. “I can’t do this,” he muttered.

Hawkeye chose that moment to come in. It seemed it only took a single glance for her to understand everything pertinent to the situation. She shut the door softly. Too softly.

“No sympathy, please.”

“In three days?” The tone of her voice made it clear she knew everything.

He took a deep breath to gather his thoughts. How did it happen? “I saw him right after that transmutation when they were kids,” he said even though he she knew it already. “I saw him lose it once or twice in past few years. But I never saw him so fragile as the night he came to see me. I’ve heard that many women fall in love with men who are broken; you pity them and try to put them back together. Maybe that’s why. I can’t believe how much he trusts me.” Hawkeye seemed to relax. “What?”

“I’ve never seen you look so lost in love.”

“I don’t need this.”

“Love is never convenient.”

“You approve?”

“I know you’d never do anything to hurt Edward. And Al would kill you.”

“But you don’t mind if he drags me down when I’m this close to my goal?”

“He’d leave before he let that happen. You want me talk to him?”

“I’m not sure what he’s thinking. I don’t know if he’s noticed. Yes, I’d like for you to talk to him.”

Hawkeye left and Mustang managed to get some work done with the distraction gone and a little worry taken off his shoulders. And when Ed arrived, he felt better knowing the situation was out of his hands for a while, at least until Hawkeye talked to the blond. He even managed to eat with the young man.

Then the day got bad again.

Hawkeye rushed in. “General, one of the suspects from last night has escaped. He’s armed.”

Mustang didn’t hesitate. Neither did Ed until he was half way to the door. Mustang looked over at him, but saw he didn’t need to remind him he shouldn’t come. Ed was left in the office feeling utterly useless again. He tried to focus on doing Mustang’s paperwork.

An hour went by. Then two. Ed finally couldn’t sit still and focus anymore. Mustang hadn’t come back yet. Ed spent a lot of time staring out the window. There was no smoke, so whatever was going on it must be on the other side of the city. He ventured out into the outer office.

Hawkeye was still gone, but all the others were still there. “Any word about the general?”

Furey turned to him. “I’m not sure what’s going on. There are causalities, but the man has been captured. Looks like the general got a few shots in; the man is suffering from burns. I’ve not heard anything else.”

Ed had to remind himself he was a civilian and he couldn’t just run out there and demand details. Ed sat in Hawkeye’s chair and waited. Another hour and Hawkeye returned. Alone. Ed spotted the blood on her uniform and her slightly sad expression. Everyone perked up and stared at her expectantly.

“Mustang?”

“He’s alive.” That was never a good way to start a conversation. “He was wounded and taken to the hospital. He’ll be fine.”

Ed tore out of the room. Hawkeye followed, tossing a dismissal to the rest of the staff over her shoulder.

Hawkeye caught up and summoned a car.

“He’ll be okay, Ed,” she assured him as they rode to the hospital.

“Is he really?”

“He was shot, but still went after the man. I tried to stop him. He disabled the suspect. He collapsed due to blood loss, but the doctors said he’d be fine. The bullet didn’t hit anything vital.”

Ed didn’t know where to go when they got to hospital, so Hawkeye was able to keep him at her elbow and keep him from tearing though the building.

She finally arrived at Mustang’s room. Hawkeye nodded to the guard who left the room to guard it from the outside and closed the door to give them privacy.

Mustang was unconscious, pale(r), and rigged with an IV and a breathing mask.

“Roy,” Ed called. Mustang didn’t flinch. “Roy!” Ed repeated.

“I think he’s drugged, Edward.”

Ed collapsed. “Damn it! If I wasn’t so useless I could have been out there with him and saved him!”

“He’s not dead.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m so useless!” Ed started crying hysterically.

Hawkeye rushed outside to find someone to help. Ed was having a complete breakdown right in front of her.