Here we are! A new chapter for you guys. I'm so, so sorry for not updating sooner. I have one last final tomorrow and then I'm free to write as much as I'd like! Hooray!
Edward tugged his fingers fiercely through his golden locks, loosening his flaxen braid. Giving up with the unruly strands, he ripped the ribbon from the plait and thrust the mop into a tight ponytail in the center of his head.
He growled, growing increasingly frustrated with the papers in front of him. The chemical equations and medical deductions melted into one big mass of words, letters, and numbers.
Edward didn't understand why Hawkeye wasn't waking up. All of her vitals were normal, her heart rate stable, her breathing leveling out by the minute. In theory, the woman should have been up and speaking hours ago.
"Sometimes, it's the patient that chooses," a voice said from behind his chair.
Edward started, straitening in his creaky wooden seat. A slim, delicate hand appeared before him, holding what he assumed was a cup of coffee.
He took the demitasse gratefully, blowing at the steaming top a bit before taking a sip. Ugh, too much milk and not enough sugar. He kept drinking it anyway. He needed the caffeine.
The former alchemist glanced to the face hovering expectantly beside him.
"Huhm?" he grunted, a bit rudely.
The woman smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a way that made Edward think that she smiled a lot. Her teeth were large and very white, and her eyes had to close to accommodate her face to the wattage of her grin.
"You have that kind of look on your face. You know, the frustrated 'why isn't everything better because everything is perfect?' kind of look? A lot of people get it, guests and doctors alike."
Edward raised a single fair eyebrow.
"Your patient not getting better?" she asked, frankly, a bit too caviler for something so serious. Edward thought that maybe it was just her personality. How annoying.
He decided there was no harm in conversing with this girl, if only for a few minutes. It's not like he was getting any further in his research anyway.
"She's still in a comatose state, but all of her vitals are normal. In an ideal setting, she would already be well on her way to recovery," Ed mussed, reaching up with his long fingers to rub at his temple. He let the faintest drop of confusion drip into his voice, attempting to hide just how at a loss he was at.
"Yeah," the girl, a nurse, Edward assumed, sighed lightly. "Patients do that all the time! I find that it's them that decide whether they live or die. You may want to look into this woman's past. You may find something that could tell you why she isn't recovering. And you may find something that will motivate her to. You'd be surprised just how many keys to the future are found in the past."
Edward hummed, looking back to the papers on the table before him. He glanced at Hawkeye's large file again, remembering how he hadn't really bothered to look through all of it. Maybe he would bring Mustang and the rest of the team in, too.
"Thanks," he said roughly, thumbing some loose papers. He had been sitting still for far too long. The impact of what could happen to the lieutenant was gnawing at him, but he wouldn't let the pain consume him.
The woman stood with another unnecessarily big smile and turned to leave the library.
"S'no problem!" she called behind her back in a cheery exclamation. "I hope your patient wakes up soon!"
Hawkeye wouldn't die. No, she wouldn't leave them like his mother did. She wouldn't leave them alone to face the world without her. She would wake up, with due time.
Edward would make sure of that.