Edwards body both welcomed and rejected the new medication.

Welcomed it by diminishing the tired, almost sickly appearance he held, and rejected it by not allowing him to wake up whenever his nightmares decided to cause him to vomit, which meant he would be vomiting...while asleep. After the first few times of that happening, however, Ed noticed his body starting to try and save him from choking on stomach acid and bile by waking him up just enough to lean over and vomit into the trash can that Pinako had so kindly placed next to his bed.

Ed knew that Winry and Al were worried by his almost lazy, careless ways on the days after he took his sleep medicine, and the unusual restlessness on the days when he wasn't in a haze due to his drug induced sleep. When asked about it, he would merely shrug it off.

Pinako eventually told them exactly why Ed all of the sudden seemed so sluggish, and they backed off.

--

Months passed without any sign of an attack, and Ed let himself relax a bit more. He had just woken up from one of his deep, medicated sleeps when it struck with a vengeance.

The pain was excruciating, made worse because of him being unused to it from the months of it not being there. Made worse by the drugs which tried to keep his breathing and heart rate slow to make it easy for him to slip back into slumber even as his body thrashed about.

Bile licked at the back of his throat, burning his nostrils before it spilled into his mouth and out as he thumped heavily onto the floor, still writhing and clawing at his chest.

He was vaguely aware of his bedroom door slamming against the wall as it was opened violently in someone's rush to get to him before his world went black.

He was left in a vortex of pain and an odd sense of peace. Would it really be so bad if he were to die like this..? He'd gotten so many chances...was it finally time for him to go? Hell, he'd had a second life. His brother was in the flesh, he could go on without him...

Edward felt himself slipping away.

--

Roy Mustang was not a happy man. He was still in the damned hospital, and all of the cute nurses had apparently heard of his "three dates and gone" ways.

It wasn't his fault that he wasn't interested for longer time periods than that.

Back to the hospital problem, however. They treated him like he was some damned little girl made of glass. Even Maes did, and it was infuriating. He almost actually missed Hawkeye and her gun. Almost.

With a sigh, he shifted, poking in a most bored manner at the IV in his arm.

It was basically the only amusement he had besides annoy the doctor who came in to check on him on when he would be released.

After several tries at this and receiving only unimpressed looks, he finally had his answer.

Whenever this damned IV drip was empty.

It was set on minimal flow and was three quarters full. He'd probably be there for another few hours.

Thinking about this, he resigned himself to being bored out of his mind for the next eternity.

He had been rather disoriented when he had first woken up, having, for him, gone from sitting in his office to laying in a hospital bed in a very unmanly gown and a breathing mask attached to his face.

Hughes had looked like shit when he'd first seen him, appearing tired and slouching as he walked. But when he saw that Roy was awake, he straightened up with a bright grin and instantly bombarded his friend with photos of his 'darling Elysia and beautiful wife Gracia'.

But, surprisingly, he had stopped when told to and hadn't even pouted.

When asked what had happened, he looked slightly uncomfortable before he decided to give it to Roy straight. "Listen," he had said. "You had pneumonia. You blacked out in your office and we had to call the hospital. They carried your sorry ass here and got you stabilized for a bit. Then you flat lined. You died, Roy. Obviously the resuscitated you, but still. After that you went into a week long coma before you woke up today."

Roy mulled this over. "And?" He said, looking at the far wall.

Hughes hesitated. "And...if you get it again, especially that bad..."

"Just say it."

"You could die. And even if you didn't, there would be some damn bad complications and you would die anyways." Hughes shrugged helplessly.

But that had been a few days before, and right now? Roy was just itching to get out.

Roy sighed again, closing his eyes and letting the muted sounds of the hospital lull him into an almost asleep state.

--

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

What was that sound..?

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

It was annoying...why couldn't it just stop..?

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

Beep...

It was starting to get fainter.

Beep...

...

Beep...

...

Beep...

...

Beep...

The sound faded away completely and Edward was left, floating in the black.

--

Al never moved from his brother's side unless it was absolutely necessary. He barely ate, and there were deep purple bags underneath his honey colored eyes. To see his brother like this, so pale and frail in appearance, golden hair framing his face loosely...it was saddening.

Pinako didn't know exactly what had triggered this sudden comatose state, but she knew it had something to do with one of his brother's attacks.

Al swallowed thickly, hanging his head as he tightened his grip on his older brother's hand.

Edward needed to live through this. He needed to.

Alphonse didn't know how he would live in a world without the feisty spirit of his brother, the witty remarks that his brother signed and seemed so smug about.

He didn't know.

All he could do was listen to the slow but rhythmic beeping of the heart moniter.

--1015 Words--

Heeeey, I don't feel as shitty anymore! In celebration, I wrote this chapter in around an hour while reading fanfiction. Hope you enjoyed! ~The_Sin_Pride