He was hooked up to all sorts of tubes and wires, the very things that were keeping him alive. Edward was pale and helpless, clinging to life. His skin matched the color of the white hospital sheets, and struggle was evident on his face. A team of five medical professionals stood around him, trying to even out his vitals. Edward had an IV drip in each arm, a mask over his mouth, tubes in his throat... It was all so surreal. All so sudden.
Suddenly the blonde began to shake, his muscles spasming. Various machines around the room went off, alerting the doctors. Ed's eyes fluttered and showed only white, his pupils rolled back into the eye socket.
"He's going into CA, bag him. Start chest compressions."
The mask was removed and a plastic manual pump was inserted into Ed's mouth. One of the doctors began pumping the boy's chest, forcing his heartbeat. Orders for medication were given, as well as blood pressure and heart rate updates.
"What's happening? What's going on?"
These words came from none other than Roy Mustang, his charcoal eyes shining with worry. The man took a step forward, his stance tense.
A nurse backed away from the scene, closer to the man. She was of medium height with fair skin and short, brunette hair. She was not, however, hesitant to share the bad news. "He went into cardiac arrest."
"N- What..?" He knew perfectly well what it meant. He simply couldn't grasp it.
She took his arms and steered him a step backward, sensing a reaction from the professor.
"It means his heart stopped. We are going to have to use the defibrillators. If you start to cause unnecessary panic and stress for the doctors, however, we will have to remove you from the area."
Mustang collapsed into a chair placed strategically behind him. "What are the chances of survival?"
"I'd say about fifty-fifty."
Roy ground the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, his breaths shuddering. "God, Ed..."
"He'll be fine. These doctors know how to handle this and are very good at their jobs. As long as you stay calm your son should survive and be able to completely recover."
Roy was about to correct her and say that the child lying frail on the hospital bed was not his son when the doctors began charging up the defibrillators.
"And we're clear."
A shock was administered to Ed's broad chest and his body convulsed.
"No pulse."
Roy gripped the armrests of the chair.
"Going in again. All clear."
Another shock.
"No pulse. Up the voltage. We're all clear."
The colonel squeezed his eyes shut, pleading in his head.
"No pulse. Clear."
Tears began to gather in the raven-haired man's eyes. He never cried. Never. He simply couldn't bear for them to announce the words "no pulse" again. Those two words meant life or death for Edward, his youngest student, the child he viewed as a son.
"We're clear."
The electricity sounded. Mustang held his breath.
"And we have a pulse."
Those five words allowed his breath to release, his shoulders to slump, and one solitary tear of relief to slip down his cheek. He was fine, he was going to be fine. Roy knew that Edward was too stubborn to die. The young fourteen-year-old blonde would not be taken away from him on this day.