Its Mustang and Breda who get to lay eyes on Edward first. His room is compact, a bed, two chairs, monitoring equipment, and medical material are packed into a small cube complete with pastel walls and splotted tile. Pale sunlight was fighting to filter in through the blinds as the sun finally rose, casting a vague bluish light throughout the cramped room and onto Ed's ghostly form. He was splayed out on the bed, metal limbs tangled in the sheets or pinned between the mattress and the raised safety bars. The bed sinks around his weight and looks like it could swallow him, but the pillows prop him up enough to breathe.

Breda lingered by the door, hesitant to enter when he was supposed to guard the hall, but unable to look away from his youngest teammate. Roy moved forward, stepping up to the bed where Edward was shivering, eyes closed though he showed no signs of sleep. They'd dressed him in a hospital gown, but it's become untied and fallen past his shoulders, revealing thick bandages and yellow tinted tubes that led to blood collection bags on the floor. His skin is wan and sickly grey, his lips too pale and his cheeks flushed with fever from the medicine. His hair had almost completely fallen out of its braid, sticking to his sweaty cheeks and flayed out onto the pillow messily.

The lack of pain medication and the side effects from the oxycodone had left him a mess, delirious and dazed. He had goosebumps on his skin from the chill but had kicked all his blankets to the floor at some point, and he shook minutely as he kept his eyes squeezed fiercely closed and his hands clenching the sheets beneath him.

It was absolutely not going to do.

"Breda, go find a nurse, or a doctor if you can." Roy demanded, not bothering to look and see if the other man did as he was told as he swept down to the floor and gathered the discarded blankets. Edward's eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice, but there was little recognition in them, which unsettled Roy more than he was willing to consider. Glazed golden orbs tracked his every movement as he tossed the blankets into a linens hamper and opened the room's closest in search for new blankets. When he returned to the bed Ed seemed to have finally grasped who he was. "Colonel?"

"Yep." He confirmed as he jerked on the sheets trapped beneath the kid's leg. "Help me out here." Ed blinked at him for a moment before his eyes shifted to his leg and it raised a centimeter, shaking from the exertion but enough that Roy was able to tug the sheet loose. He tossed it over the boy and then unfolded two cotton blankets, tossing them over the sheet as well and watched as Ed's shivering reduced drastically with new warmth. He let out a tiny sigh and his flesh hand snuck beneath the covers and yanked them up to his chin. "Where's Al?" His voice was barely audible, cracked and dry. When he spoke dried specks of blood flecked off of his lips and Roy could see his teeth were browned with dried blood.

"We called him. He's coming in from Dublith now." Roy murmured, pulling a chair closer to the bed and sitting down in it heavily.

Before he had a the chance to speak again, Breda returned with a nurse in tow. Roy stood to meet them and moved the conversation out to the hallway away from where Edward's wandering eyes could follow them. It takes far too long to make the nurse understand what the problem is- that Edward was suffering and needed relief and attention. He's too fed up and frustrated to use his normal charm, but gets the job done through superior intimidation tactics anyway. The nurse scampers off to get Ed better care, and he reenters the room.

It appeared that Edward was trying to doze off, his eyes closed and breathing slow even as his muscles tensed in pain and sweat gathered on his brow. It made Mustang's stomach twist uncomfortably, throat tight at the idea of the kid being in such obvious agony. He knew Edward was tough as nails and had a very high pain tolerance. He knew that Edward considered pain to be an unfortunate stepping stone to his goal but otherwise did not let it hinder any progress that needed to be made. He knew that Edward was not afraid of pain.

But it was still impossibly hard to see the kid suffer. Despite his annoying quirks and bad habits, his insubordination and stubbornness, Roy knew that Edward Elric was a good person. He saw value in all life no matter how twisted, and he was loyal to the end. He had a very acute sense of right and wrong and he was always willing to do the right thing, no matter the consequences. He loved his family with every piece of his being, and even though Edward complained and glowered, Roy knew he felt that same loyalty towards his teammates as well.

He was the absolute last person who deserved to endure such misfortune.

Despite the uneasy feelings churning in his stomach, Roy knew he could not stay to watch over Edward personally. There was far too much work to be done and he was needed in the field to make sure that nothing slipped through the ranks and was missed. He could not afford to sit at Ed's bedside in such dire times.

So, he made an executive decision. He strode forward to the boy and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Edward stirred slightly, eyes open but glossy and hazed with fever. He didn't seem capable of quite making eye contact, but Roy would take what he could get.

"I'm going to send in Havoc, and he will remain with you until this blows over." Ed's brow furrowed slightly in confusion at his words, and Roy watched with trepidation as he tried to understand what was being said to him before ultimately giving up and closing his eyes again, succumbing to his exhaustion instead.

The colonel sighed and straightened up, tugging the kid's blanket back up around his shoulders and pushing the hair off his forehead before turning and exiting the room. He took the time to inform Breda of the new developments before he left, putting Edward's wellbeing in the hands of those who could better care for him.

The next time Edward awoke, he was greeted by the sight of the first lieutenant lounging by the window, unlit cigarette clamped between his teeth as he eyed the commotion of the streets below and the military police who were bustling about according to their orders as they tried to secure the hospital. The room was slowly being shrouded in an orange glare as the sun fell below the horizon, making shadows crawl up the wall and throw even the most innocent items into stark silhouettes. Havoc looked rumbled and tired, worn lines marking him under his eyes to show the many hours he'd gone without sleep. His uniform was dusty and creased, and there were dark splotches splattered faintly on his knees and breast.

"You look like hell." He murmured at the lieutenant, shifting under the sheets and trying to curl into a more comfortable position. His plans were almost immediately halted when a painful tug came from his chest and hand. One glance told him the ache came from an IV and some sort of tube that was buried under his ribs, taped thoroughly but extremely tender.

Havoc turned towards him quickly, apparently startled by Ed's comment. His eyes fell on the figure on the bed before his face twisted into some sort of sad smile despite his snarky tone. "You're one to talk. Thought you were dead at first glance." He meandered closer, blue eyes taking him in.

Ed snorted on instinct, but didn't really have the energy or focus to keep up conversation. His brain wasn't working right. His thoughts were coming far too slowly, and nothing was connecting the way he thought it probably should me. He had almost no memory of what the hell had happened apart from a brutal fight with some drug dealers... however many days ago now. He felt sticky and gross, covered in cold sweat despite the warm blankets he was buried under. His toes felt numb and he could feel vomit threatening at the back of his throat.

"Where's Al?" He asked. If Alphonse was there his situation would improve dramatically, if nothing else simply because he appreciated Al's company and comfort. He wanted to see him.

"Still on the way. They're having really heavy rains in the south right now, and a few trains have been stopped due to flooding. I think he was going to walk, but your teacher stopped him or something. He has to wait for the trains to get back into working order." Havoc felt bad as he watched Edward's face fall dejected, mood squashed and loneliness amplified. He forgot sometimes that the brothers were practically attached at the hip. They got desolate without each other. Before he could cheer him up Ed was speaking again.

"What about the Colonel?"

"I'm starting to think you don't want to see me Ed." Havoc teased, smiling as a faint blush crept up the kid's neck, improving his pallor some. "He's out with Hughes in the field right now, hunting down the Triades. Things have... escalated some since the last time you were awake." He expected Edward to ask about it, nosy as he was; he hated being out of the loop on anything. Instead, Ed's frown grew and he settled back into the pillows, shifting to a more comfortable position.

Edward wondered vaguely how long he had been asleep because the taste in his mouth was absolutely horrendous, a mixture of morning breath, blood, and vomit all mixed into one disgusting combination. He ran his tongue over the film covering his teeth, and he must have made some sort of face because soon Havoc was chuckling and pulling up a chair to the bed where he promptly plopped down and leaned back.

"Need a toothbrush?" He asked around his cigarette. At Edward's nod he reached into a drawer on the bedside table, digging around in it for a moment before producing a toothbrush and a small basin. He started to hand it over before he saw the look on the kid's face. He looked uneasy and his breathing was picking up, his skin tinted green around the edges. Recognizing the look instantly, he abandoned his goodies and snatched up a far larger basin and shoved it under Ed's chin just as his back spasmed and he hiccuped up a mouthful of vomit.

After several minutes of gagging, Edward's hiccups calmed and his breathing slowed some. His face was wet from sweat and snot, but he swiped his flesh hand across his skin to wipe off the vomit, IV taped into his hand catching on his lip as he did so. The ache in his chest had exploded into a destructive fire at the spell, and he squeezed his eyes shut as wave after wave of nauseating pain swept over him, his automail coming up to rest on his collarbone.

Havoc frowned in concern before going to the bathroom and dumping out the vomit, noting the red tinge before he flushed it away. He dug out a towel and ran it under cold water before returning to Ed.

It was going to be a long night.