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Havoc knocked on Roy's office door looking torn between amusement and dread, immediately sparking a headache behind Roy's eyes.
"The chief is here," Havoc began. Roy glared—he'd told the whole office to tell him as soon as Ed had arrived, considering he was an hour and a half late, but it seemed as though Jean had drawn the short straw.
"Send him in," Roy ordered, his voice venomous. This was not the first time Ed had been late this week, and the problem was getting worse. At first, he'd only missed their meeting time by ten minutes, citing that he'd had to stop to take cover from the rain—which, since he'd come into the office soaked, had made sense, so Roy had given him a pass. Two days later, he'd been late by 45 minutes, claiming that he'd written down the time wrong, and the day after that, an hour late with no explanation and a bad attitude. Roy was no longer looking to accommodate his tardiness, and had spent much of the 90 minutes preparing Ed's lecture.
"I think you should go easy," Havoc suggested, knowing that Roy would likely not want to hear those words. "He looks exhausted."
Roy had told him that he should go home to get some sleep four days ago because he'd looked a bit worse for wear, so it was not that he doubted the validity of the concern. However, Ed was a soldier, and being a little tired was no excuse to miss appointments with superiors.
"Noted," Roy growled in a tone that had Havoc already turning and hustling out the door. "Send him in," he repeated, earning a panicked nod.
When Ed stumbled through the door, Roy could immediately see why Jean had been worried—Ed was pale and shaky, with dark circles under his tired-looking eyes.
"Nice of you to report for duty," Roy drawled dangerously, sarcastically. Ed rolled his eyes, looking like he could care less about the amount of trouble he was in.
"I know I'm late," he admitted.
"Don't try to make excuses, Fullmetal," Roy warned, but Ed shook his head.
"I don't have one," he said. There was an unusual calm about his demeanor, lacking the typical firey energy. Maybe the kid genuinely felt guilty about being late.
"Good," Roy snapped. "Then I won't have to wait another minute to hear the report you've prepared."
Ed seemed ruffled by that, blinking as if he'd forgotten why he'd come in at all, but recovered, reaching into his pocket to remove the papers, then shrugging out of his red coat. He was sweating despite the cool temperature of the office, and his hands trembled as he handed the report to Roy, who took it but didn't read it, waiting for Ed to begin the verbal portion. When he stayed quiet, Roy made an impatient hand gesture.
"Well?" Roy prompted. "Are you going to give your report?"
Ed blinked. "I gave it to you," he said stupidly, tugging at his collar.
"You know damn well you have to recite it," he maintained. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Ed shook his head, one hand moving up to press against his temple lightly.
"I... uh," he began, struggling to find his words, "got off the train at... evening."
Roy nodded condescendingly. "Yes," he prompted, "go on."
Ed paused, took a deep breath, swayed slightly. "Yeah, I... think we went to the, er, motel?" He asked it like a question, and Roy frowned at how out of it and confused Ed seemed. He was used to flippancy from the kid, but this felt wrong.
"Fullmetal, you seem distracted," he pointed out harshly. "Either give your report or leave my office."
Ed did neither, just stared at the floor, still blinking slowly.
"Fullmetal?" Roy called again. The complete lack of attention was a bit disconcerting, especially given Havoc's warning. He seemed more exhausted than Roy had expected.
"I can't really... 'vrything's fuzzy," he muttered, and before Roy could question him further, he collapsed to the ground with a sharp thud.
"Edward!" Roy exclaimed, falling to his knees beside him. "Hawkeye, I need a medic in here!"
Knowing that his request was being answered (because Riza was Riza), Roy began to scan over Ed for the usual military suspects: blood, fever, bruises. Just when he was beginning to panic that he couldn't find any obvious reason for Ed's fainting spell, he started to come back to consciousness slowly and murkily, muttering something unintelligible. Roy pushed down on his shoulders as he struggled to sit up.
"Stay down a moment; a medic is coming to look you over."
Ed frowned. "You called a medic?"
"You collapsed," Roy explained, "so I'm not sure what you expected me to do."
Ed had the audacity to roll his eyes. "I just need a nap," he defended, but Roy shook his head.
"You don't faint from just needing a nap," he argued. "When's the last time you slept? Or ate?"
Ed had to think about it for long enough that it was an answer in itself, and Roy sighed, rolling his eyes.
"Once you're cleared by medical, we're going to get you food, then I'm sending you home. You're on sick leave beginning now, effective until Monday, if you're feeling better by then." Ed frowned—it was only Thursday, and he normally didn't take weekends off, anyway.
"That's not—"
"Don't make me make it an order," Roy said lightly, so Ed allowed himself to just sit back against the floor and press a hand to his pounding head. "You really are an idiot pipsqueak, aren't you?" Roy taunted, realizing once he'd already said it that really, all he was describing was a child expected to fill the role of an adult.
"And you're a bastard," Ed mumbled. Roy let the conversation drop for the moment, already working on the new lecture, one about taking care of oneself to replace the already-forgotten lecture about accountability and duty. He hated it when Havoc was right.