FMA belongs to someone other than me. I do not claim it. Thanks.
This was a challenge fic written for one of my friends. Just a bit of Ed angst.
At the end of the day, as the brain winds down, down, down through all remaining thoughts of the day, vague ideas become more definite and anxiety finds itself a foothold.
As the brain reviews all the day's actions, reactions, and purposes, it's hard to feel exactly the same as you did during the actual events. There's no adrenaline rush, no spur-of-the-moment thinking, no life or death situations that needs resolutions now, there's only retrospect. The rational mind looks over everything you did, critiquing and picking, destroying and rebuilding. Other choices -- better choices -- become more apparent and you're forced to mentally kick yourself over the folly of a choice you made.
But the mind doesn't linger long on inconsequential things. It only has so long to pick through the day, and certain things are more important than others. Such as the point of the day; what did you try to get done? How terrible did you do? For, in the mind, you could do nothing but terribly.
Your brain asks you if what you did was worth what you paid; if the end really did justify the means. And the brain usually decides against you. The brain thinks you're an idiot.
Ed can't not contemplate what he did during the day -- as, in a general rule, his days tend to contain many pivotal points -- before he goes to bed at night. His mind points out all his mistakes, flaws, and tramples him into the dirt.
He knows that his goal is a good one -- his brain even agrees. It's his means that his mind pokes, prods, and tears to shreds. Sometimes he even agrees with his mind.
But he can't. He knows his road is chosen. He knows he can't undo what's already been set in motion. He just has to sit, pray, and hope to God that the choice he made was the right one.
Then he remembers he doesn't believe in God.
Ed's nights are always restless.