His hands were caked thick with dirt, fresh with a thick loamy smell. It filled his nose. Clearer than blood, he thought. A small, appreciative smile cracked his face and it was all Edward could do to keep from crying again.
The shovel sliced into the ground again and he sniffed the crisp air again. His foot slipped off the foot rest and mud splashed up against his leg. So stubborn. "No, Winry," he'd insisted, "I can do this myself." "No, Pinako," he'd persisted, "I need to do this myself." Lonely work. Quiet like he needed. Right behind the house, where he and Al used to play rough games of tag. X marked the spot. Ed lifted another chunk of dirt from the ground and tossed it aside. Not a big hole, but it had to be deep. Edward admired his work. A giant gash in the earth, tearing through to the other side once again.
"Do you remember anything else?" Her voice was so quiet, directed at the ceiling above. How silly bunkbeds were. An invasion of privacy really.
Just go to sleep, Edward thought. "Not much," he answered.
Winry rolled around above him and peered over the edge, her face scrunched up like she was observing a complicated piece of automail. She shook her head, her hair toppling all over. "You're not a good liar."
"Can we not talk about it?"
"It's better to talk about stuff." She had a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bed, leaning as far over the side as possible to see Edward. He rolled over on his side and stared at the wall. He still expected eyes to look back at him. Unblinking, red, burning with desire to tear him apart.
"Not always. Sometimes it's better to just let stuff go. Sometimes it hurts to talk about stuff." Edward clenched his blankets in his tiny fists, sneering.
"But that's when Grandma says it's most important to talk. When it hurts. Edward, that's how you let people help you."
"Shut up, Winry! You're so dumb sometimes! You don't understand anything, okay? Leave me alone!" Edward threw his blankets aside and dashed from the room without a single glance backwards. He slammed the door behind him and wandered down the inky black hallway, working his way downstairs and out the front door. The night air hit him like a shock wave and he crumbled to his knees.
"I don't know, I don't think it's a good idea." Pinako crossed her arms, her pipe bobbing in the corner of her mouth as she spoke. Edward frowned.
"You don't know or you don't think it's a good idea?" He asked.
"Both." The old woman pursed her lips. She hadn't had to deal with difficult little boys since her son grew up and moved out. As nostalgically pleasing as it is was taking care of Edward, he was nothing like her boy. He was so hotheaded, confrontational. Given his circumstances she was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt, but she was at her wits end.
"I just can't sit around here doing nothing." Edward looked at his hands. Rough and worn. Not a good enough bargaining chip. Not worth the life of his brother. His nails dug into the soft flesh of his palms as he balled a fist.
"If I recall correctly it was doing something that caused all of this in the first place."
Vicious, biting words striking harder than intended. Edward flinched and swallowed his childish tears. Pinako sighed and left her chair. She patted Edward on the arm as she left the kitchen.
"Just don't do anything rash, alright? You're smarter than that," she said.
"I just want my brother back."
"People want a lot of things, Edward. But they shouldn't let them forget what they have."
What a sordid activity it was, digging. He'd watched men dig for his mother and it was so dull. So menial. Pointless, but bodies need to go somewhere.
"Where do you think people really go, Al?" Edward asked as he shoveled aside more deep brown muck. Drizzle showered from the sky and he sneezed. Gripping the shovel tightly Edward tore at the earth again.
"Do they go to the same place? Do they go past the gate?" Edward looked to the lumpy sheet lying a few feet away. He waited for an answer to come in a soft voice. Nothing. The blade hit a rock with a crack and Edward bent down. He scraped dirt away with his hands and strained to tug the rock free.
"I just want to know if I'll ever find you again," Edward grunted, tossing the stone at the tiny, sheet-covered body in frustration. "Can't you just tell me?"
The rain fell heavier.
Edward tensed as Winry tightened the bolt.
"I think I'll go after this," he said quietly. She pretended to ignore him and searched through her things for the right washer. Inside her chest her heart thumped painfully. Winry's stomach rolled and her hands shook.
"Winry? Did you hear me? I said I'm leaving. Probably tonight. After you've fixed my leg." Edward tapped on the automail for emphasis.
"Hmm? Where will you go? You're only thirteen. No one needs a one-legged thirteen-year-old. You should just stay here where it's safe. Where people need you." She refused to look at him.
"I thought you just said no one needs me." Edward gave a small, triumphant grin. It diminished quickly and his shoulders sagged. "There are too many memories here."
"Make new ones."
"It's not that easy."
"Oh nothing ever is! You always have to make everything so complicated, Ed!" Winry popped a gasket on his leg and Edward jumped in pain. "Sorry. I'll fix that."
"Damn straight you'll fix it! Sheesh, Winry, it's like you're trying to cripple me." Edward crossed his arms stubbornly and pouted.
Winry puffed out her chest in preparation to take him down a peg, but stopped herself at the last second. "I just need to get a new gasket," she said softly reaching into her toolbox.
There was a long silence as she tinkered with his leg and he watched her work with deep affection.
"So you never answered me. Where will you go?" Winry's bangs hung over her eyes. She was grateful for the curtaining. It did well to hide her tears.
"I dunno. I think I'll just have to figure that out along the way. I just need time away. To forget, to move on."
"Just promise me one thing, okay?" She tremor in her voice startled him.
"Yeah, sure. Anything."
Winry looked him in the eye, doing her best to smile through her tears. "Come back soon, okay?"
"Almost done." Edward was breathing heavily, his hands swollen and rubbed raw from the work. The hole was deep, most likely deeper than it needed to be, but it was never going to be enough. He couldn't bury his brother deep enough to forget, to relieve himself of the guilt.
"What do you think, Al?" He turned and caught his breath. A shadow loomed over the once-brother-now-sheet. Big, tall, flaxen hair, all too familiar.
Through the rain, Edward met his father's sad eyes.
"I'm sorry I'm late," Hohenheim said. "Do you need some help?"
The train was bumpy and empty and lonely as hell. Maybe that was what he needed just then. Edward stared out the window as Resembool drifted by and strange new territory rolled into view. Where was he going? Someplace new. Why? To escape.
"Are you going to be safe?" Winry had asked.
"I guess. For you," he'd joked. She'd frowned and punched him in the arm. Then she hugged him tightly and refused to let go no matter how much he squirmed.
"Don't be dumb."
"I'll try."
Edward looked around the compartment. A couple of strangers scattered about. No familiar faces. He thought he recognized two people in State Military uniforms and avoided eye-contact on principle.
Don't be dumb. Are you going to be safe? Come back soon, okay?
Edward smiled and rested his head against the window. Maybe he would keep at least one promise.
"Here."
He looked up as Hohenheim returned with a couple of sandwiches. Edward took one and turned it over in his hands before setting it aside.
"You know," he said to his father, "I think I've changed my mind."
"Is that so?" Hohenheim bit into his sandwich hungrily, made a face, and wrapped it back up again.
"Yeah. Maybe you could just…help me with other stuff." He wasn't quite sure how to say it without sounding ungrateful.
"So you don't want me to teach you more alchemy?"
Edward shook his head. "I don't trust myself with it. Not now anyways. I think I can do better things with my time."
"And your brother?" Hohenheim looked away as he spoke, keeping his chin up as best he could.
Edward let a sad smile spread across his face. "I'll see him again. He told me so. I don't know where people go when they die, but I know mom and Al are there waiting for me. But I have people here, now, who want me too. I don't think I could let them down."
Hohenheim nodded respectfully. "If you don't mind me asking, why the change in heart?"
Edward looked out the window. "I made a promise to an automail mechanic. And I'm pretty sure if I keep it, she'll help make my heart fullmetal."