Heavy Heart

Disconsolate, Edward lay back in his narrow hospital bed and stared at the door. What the hell had happened back there?

He remembered fighting three men at once, and then there had been an unexpected gunshot. Then stars. Then nothing…just cold and darkness. No, that wasn't right…there had been water too, icy cold water. He'd been knocked out, he assumed. But then what? Had he fallen in the river? Given the presence of water, it seemed to be the likeliest explanation.

Okay.

So…how had he gotten out again?

Running through the calculations for mass, weight, and buoyancy in his head, Edward knew that his leg would've dragged him right down to the river bottom. Which meant someone had to have pulled him out at some point, seeing as how he wasn't, you know, dead. At the moment. But that part—the part where someone saved his life—that was still pretty fuzzy.

When he'd come to, Ed had found himself in the hospital already, surrounded by medics and nurses, the focal point of a flurry of activity. He'd been lying on a gurney, and he when he tried to sit up, firm hands had gently pushed him back down. But not before he'd spotted a second blonde figure being wheeled away on another stretcher. A blonde female figure, in a blue military uniform, stained red all along one side. Somehow he'd known it was her without having to ask...and now that he thought about it, he'd known because he'd heard Lieutenant Hawkeye yell something just after the shot was fired back on the docks.

She must have been the one shooting, then, that made sense.

No one would tell him what happened to her, though; they were much more concerned with cleaning his wounds, covering him with bandages and salves, and poking at his broken ribs with cold hands. At one point, he'd been sure he heard Havoc's agitated voice asking a nurse for a status update, but before he could call out, yet another nurse had closed the door. Finally Ed gave in and let them do their job, hoping that if he cooperated with them, they'd tell him what he wanted to know. But they'd simply put him into this room, alone, and told him he would be staying for a few days in their care. He wondered if anyone had thought to call Al for him.

Even as he thought of his little brother, Edward thought he heard the familiar clanging of metal feet in the tiled hallway. The door he'd been staring at flew open, and he heard a relieved metallic voice cry out, "Brother!" just before he was smooshed against a full suit of armor.

"Alphonse!" he tried to reply, but his voice was a bit muffled against Al's metal chest plate. "Hey, calm down, I'm all right. It's just a few cuts and bruises; it's really not as bad as it looks," he said with forced cheer, patting his little brother's arm somewhat awkwardly. The unexpected embrace made Ed's bruised and broken ribs scream out in agony—but there was no way in hell he'd ever let Al know that. But his chest flooded with relief when Al quickly released him and settled his bulk on the foot of the bed. Ed looked over Al's shoulder to see Havoc and Fuery grinning at him from the doorway.

"Hey, glad to see you're okay, chief," Havoc said. Ed seized his chance.

"Havoc, Fuery, hey. Um, where's the Lieutenant? I saw them bringing her in when I got here. She was wounded, wasn't she? Is she all right? Can you tell me what happened?" Havoc held up his hands to fend off the onslaught of questions.

"Whoa, slow down chief. Yeah, she's here. She'll be fine, I think." He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, and Fuery glanced over at him somewhat nervously. Before Havoc could think of what else to say, Al came to his rescue.

"She sounded fine to me, brother. She was arguing with the nurses just a little while ago," Al beamed down at him. "And Colonel Mustang is with her now." Ed relaxed a very little bit.

"Ok. So… she wasn't hurt, then?" He looked from face to face expectantly. Finally Havoc cleared his throat. He gave Ed a brief run down on the capture and arrest of the men he'd been fighting near the river, and explained how Hawkeye had come across their battle while searching for him.

"She, uh, she got caught on the head, and it bled pretty heavily, but she seems to be okay now. They just want to keep her for observation with the concussion."

"Concussion? Dammit," Edward growled, clenching his fists. "The details are still kinda fuzzy, but I knew she had to be the one who fired the shot back there." He felt a rush of gratitude to her for coming to his aid like that. "Which means…she turned up in the middle of my fight with that gang of thugs. So how did those idiots manage to pull off an attack on the Lieutenant?"

"Well, actually…" Havoc started to say. Fuery elbowed him sharply in the side, but it was too late.

"'Well, actually,' what?" Edward suddenly had a horrible cold, sinking feeling in his stomach. Though his voice was still calm, his sharp golden eyes betrayed his uneasiness.

"It's just that, um, Hawkeye wasn't injured by one of the smugglers, Ed….look, when they threw you in the river, she dove in after you. By the time she resurfaced, she had a really nasty gash on her head. It, uh, it was from your automail. You hit her when she was trying to pull you out."

Ed's golden eyes went wide with horror.

"You mean…I'm the one who hurt her?" he managed to say. "She saves my life and I repay her by bashing her over the head?"

Too late, Havoc wondered if he should have kept his mouth shut at least until the colonel arrived. But…shouldn't the kid know? Dammit, he was no good at this sort of thing! Havoc eyed the teen uneasily. The faint shadows around one of Edward's eyes promised to bloom into an impressive black eye in a few days' time. Havoc panicked a little, deciding that Ed looked more pathetic sitting in that hospital bed with that expression of anguish on his battered young face than he had when he'd been sopping wet and unconscious in the Lieutenant's arms an hour earlier. Meanwhile, Fuery bit his lip and timidly shifted closer.

"Hey, Edward? It wasn't a big deal, really. Don't beat yourself up about it," he said gently. "The Lieutenant, she's a tough woman. She refused treatment until she was sure you were okay, and she kept telling us she was fine the whole time, even though she was bleeding all over the place. Anyway, she'll be okay, I think, and she certainly doesn't blame you for hitting her. Even she said you only lashed out in reflex. She knows it wasn't on purpose."

"She saved my life. And I hurt her," was all that Ed would say, in a low and pained voice. "Dammit." He shuddered a little with suppressed emotion.

Why couldn't he do anything right today? First there'd been that ruckus in the mess hall, then he'd accidentally stumbled across those smuggling bastards, and gotten himself beat up pretty good in the subsequent fight, at least until he'd started to gain the upper hand. But then he'd dropped his guard and let one of them catch him by surprise and toss him into the water, and then he'd had to be rescued from drowning because he wasn't strong enough to counteract the weight of his own stupid automail leg…and to top it all off he'd injured a woman he respected and admired while she was in the act of saving his goddamn life.

"Oh! I know," Al cried out, clapping his hands together and breaking some of the tension in the room. "You should send her some flowers, Ed. To apologize to her! Like, some really nice white lilies, or…wait, is it pink or yellow roses that say 'gratitude?'"

"She likes roses, I think," Havoc chimed in, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "She got some really nice white ones on her birthday once, and she couldn't keep the smile off her face all day."

"Oh? White roses?" Al said, perking up. "So Lieutenant Hawkeye has a secret admirer," he said excitedly. Before the others could wrap their heads around this statement, Fuery suddenly yelped and came to attention.

"You'll want bluebells for gratitude, although dark pink roses can mean the same thing. Yellow ones can be for either friendship or apology, but white roses symbolize eternal love, purity, wistfulness, and the giver's reverence of the recipient," Mustang announced from behind Havoc. He had slipped into the room unnoticed by the others only a few moments earlier, and he stood smirking in the doorway, where Fuery had finally spotted him. Edward raised his haunted eyes to Mustang's face.

"Colonel Mustang, you've just come from checking on Lieutenant Hawkeye, right? Is she going to be okay?" is all that Ed said aloud, but those eyes seemed to add: And does she hate me?

Mustang's expression softened. Poor kid, he thought. Judging by the distress on his face, and the anxiety in his voice, someone had obviously told him what he'd done. However unintentional it had been, Ed had already accepted the full weight of the responsibility for injuring Hawkeye. Mustang glanced over at Havoc, who looked a little guilty. Hmm, no mystery as to who had told him, then.

"She's just fine," Mustang answered as cheerfully as possible. "Actually, she's checking herself out tonight," he added with a slightly secretive smile. Sneaking out, checking out, same difference.

"Wait, then you didn't order her to stay?" Havoc blurted out, shocked. "I thought that's what the nurse said you'd done." Al and Fuery looked a little confused as well, and Mustang shot a suspicious death glare in the direction of the nurse's station down the hall, wondering what exactly the nurse had been saying. Geez, between them, they'd probably convinced the poor kid he'd half-killed his Lieutenant.

"No, of course not. It wasn't necessary. Hawkeye's head wound was superficial at best, and there are no other injuries. Although, I'd stay out of her way for a few days, Havoc," he said lightly. "She seems to blame you for the indignities of medical treatment."

"One of the nurses tried to help her change into the hospital gown when she arrived, and she threatened to shoot him," Fuery whispered to the brothers in explanation. Ed grinned in delight, momentarily distracted from his burden, and Al snickered in spite of himself. "I think that's when they realized she was still armed." Mustang laughed aloud.

"Yeah, they got a grand total of five guns off her at last count," he said, holding up a small package. "One of the doctors asked me to hang on to them for safe keeping after I left her room. Apparently they're a little nervous about leaving them within her reach. I'm guessing they feared the temptation to retaliate would overcome dear Hawkeye's rationality." Casually, he tucked the package under one arm and reached for Ed's chart, flipping through it with a raised eyebrow.

"Retaliate?" Al repeated, sounding a bit shocked. "Retaliate for what?"

"They, uh, volunteered to strip search her at one point if she didn't disarm herself peacefully," Havoc supplied. Then he groaned. "She's gonna make my life a living hell for this, isn't she?" Privately, Mustang and the Elric brothers agreed—Havoc had been the one to hand her off to the mercy of the medics back there. Plus, he'd been the person who called and tattled on her to Mustang. It would probably take a few days for her to stop being pissed off at him.

"Well, she is getting released, right? So maybe she won't be quite so mad?" Fuery said hopefully, pushing up his glasses.

"In any event, both Lieutenant Hawkeye and Fullmetal are officially on medical leave for the next few days," Mustang said. "Edward, how's the automail? Do we need to call in your mechanic at all?" Ed shook his head even as he stretched out and flexed his arm.

"Nah, once I've dried it out and put more oil on it, it'll be fine…Al, could you help me with that later?" Al was already nodding. Ed could easily reach his own leg, but the arm was a little trickier to get to.

"All right then," Mustang nodded briskly. "Havoc, Fuery, you two are dismissed. Call the others back at headquarters and let them know we'll deal with the rest of the paperwork on all of this in the morning. Go on home and get some rest." The men saluted, called cheerful goodbyes to the boys, and left together, still arguing over the likelihood of Hawkeye forgiving Havoc anytime soon. Mustang stayed where he was, certain that Edward would have questions for him. He wasn't disappointed.

"Colonel?" Ed said in a small voice, glancing up. "D'you think Lieutenant Hawkeye would mind if I visited her before she checks out? I really need to apologize to her…and tell her thanks."

Mustang hesitated. He'd been considering a lecture about not leaping into a battle alone without waiting for backup, or maybe one about not punching random guys in the mess hall, even when they deserved it…but he just couldn't bring himself to yell at the kid when sincere remorse was written all over Edward's face. The fact that someone (aside from himself) had gotten hurt in the melee, which had started because of his solitary and rash actions, would likely be enough to drive the lesson home on the former point. And there was always tomorrow for a full incident report on the latter. Mustang really was curious about what had started the whole mess hall argument, and he'd forgotten to ask Hawkeye which moron had actually gotten punched by the young prodigy. So, he just sighed inwardly and decided to let the whole lecture thing go for the time being.

"Hmm…she's probably already left for home by now," Mustang replied thoughtfully, glancing at the clock and fingering the package in his hands. "She was pretty eager to get out of here. But I can pass along the message if you'd like. I'm going to check in on her later anyway; drop these off."

Edward was silent for a moment. His eyes slowly lost a little bit of the haunted look, as his habitual passion shimmered back into them. Mustang found himself inordinately pleased to see that fire in Ed's eyes again, and decided he really must be going soft. At least where Fullmetal was concerned.

"Hey, Colonel…" Ed finally said, slowly. "You wouldn't happen to know the Lieutenant's favorite-"

"What, flower?" interrupted Mustang with a grin. The teen snorted.

"Tch, come on, flowers are so useless. They just die after a few days; I never really saw the point in them. Whenever I've really screwed something up, I've always given Winry something that lasts, you know, like earrings or a power tool. And so… I wondered whether you knew… which kind of oil does Lieutenant Hawkeye prefer for cleaning her weapons?"

Mustang grinned. Gun care products in lieu of flowers? This kid really was a genius.

"Don't underestimate the power of a well-thought-out bouquet, kid. Especially when the woman in question doesn't expect flowers, or doesn't receive them very often," Mustang advised.

Al grinned wolfishly (though no one could really tell). Secret admirer, my eye, he thought.

Meanwhile, Mustang was scribbling something down on a notepad he'd pulled from his jacket pocket.

"But here...this is the name of the shop she frequents, and that's the brand of oil she usually gets," he explained as he wrote. "Although I would ask the proprietor if there is anything in particular she's had her eye on; she rarely indulges herself and tends to buy only what she needs rather than what she wants."

Ed accepted the scrap of paper reverently, and thumped his brother's arm lightly with his metal fist.

"Hell, my State Alchemist's salary is a lot more than even the officers' salaries, so I bet I can afford to get her something she wouldn't be able to justify getting for herself, huh?" Al grinned and nodded in reply. Edward looked up at Mustang with an expression of mingled gratitude and sincerity. "Thank you for this. I really appreciate it, Colonel."

Mustang hadn't been expecting the guileless affection in Ed's eyes. It was a look he often gave Al, and Mustang was both touched and a little embarrassed to be on the receiving end of it. He cleared his throat.

"Don't mention it, Fullmetal," he said somewhat gruffly, fidgeting a little. Ed gave him a half smile as he handed the paper to Al for safekeeping. "Anyway, I'll let you get some rest now. I expect a full report on today's whole…incident. Turn it in by next week." Mustang finally turned to go, but he paused just before opening the door. "I'm glad you're all right, Edward," he said quietly.

"Thank you, Colonel," Ed replied. And then Mustang was gone.

"Brother?" Al said timidly after a moment of loaded silence.

Ed was still thinking, hard. There was one slightly blurry image that had surfaced in his hazy thoughts when Havoc first mentioned the river. It was burning in his mind much more clearly now: the white face of one Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, bare inches from his own, her lips moving and her eyes wide and terrified. There'd been blood pouring down one side of her face, from somewhere above her left eye. Hot red droplets had spilled onto his face from hers, and her arms had tightened around him like steel bands when he hadn't responded to whatever it was she'd been saying. Ed vaguely recalled coughing up some water, someone gently rubbing his back as he shivered and sucked air into his aching lungs, and then being cradled against someone… someone blonde and female, wearing a blue military uniform stained with red.

"I owe Lieutenant Hawkeye big time, Al," was all that he could say.

"I know. Me too, brother. Because I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you," Alphonse replied softly. "I'm really glad the Lieutenant was there to help you," and he squeezed his brother's hand gently. Ed suddenly laughed a little, even as he squeezed Al's hand back.

"Can you imagine? Coming as far as we've come, and surviving everything we've survived until now, only to have it all end like that? Defeated by a stupid hunk of junk metal and some dirty brown river water? I'd never forgive myself!"

Al laughed lightly as well, grateful and relieved that Ed felt well enough to joke. He always hated it when Ed sank into his dark depressions, and for a moment there he'd been worried that another was coming on.

"Don't ever let Winry hear you call her masterpieces junk metal, Brother!" He remonstrated. Ed's face went an amusing shade of pink.

"Geez, that girl. She'd be so furious if my drowning death were blamed on her precious automail, she'd find a way to resurrect me just so she could kill me again, alchemy or no alchemy," he mused darkly. As morbid as the humor was, Al couldn't help but laugh at the expression on his brother's face.

"Hey, you really should get some sleep," Al ventured after a moment, as the petulant lines around Ed's mouth gradually relaxed. "Do you want me to read to you for a bit?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be good. Thanks, Al."

Battered and bruised and aching as he was, Ed felt safe under the watchful eye of his little brother, and he slowly sank into a deep sleep while the gentle drone of Al's voice held the nightmares at bay.

A.N. The little blurb on the language of flowers was based on a Wikipedia article, so I have no delusions in regards to its accuracy. I don't particularly mind, since it served the purpose I needed it to serve, but if you know it's wrong and that really bothers you, then I apologize. Thanks for reading! :D

xoxo Janieshi