He'd never had an inanimate object become so much a part of himself. Some people would scoff at that thought. His arm and leg were hardly what one would call natural, but the way he saw it, they were attached to his body and he controlled them. Therefore they were animate, even if metal. When he'd first gotten the watch he almost hadn't known what to do with it. It was something to be revered, sacred. It was proof of his worth. He could do something, something that might someday turn good. At first he kept it in his coat pocket. A heavy thwack against his leg when he walked, with the chain all coiled up in a mess. He would sneak a hand down and wrap his fingers around it. It felt good in the palm of his hand. He would twine the chain around his fingers, let it hang there, hidden, almost as if it was a secret, like nothing had changed. But he would eventually have to extract his hand from his pocket, and that placement wasn't really useful. He didn't always wear his coat, and it got ripped to shreds so often…he didn't want to endanger his watch.

Looking around at the other alchemists he noticed that many of those who didn't wear their uniforms carried the watches in the pant's pockets. It was a pocket watch after all. Ed tried that next. It was odd at first, having this circular lump on his leg. He fiddled with the pocket, transmuting it till he found a shape he liked that would fit. He hooked the chain through a belt loop and admired his image. It was one that would stay with him. Those who knew alchemists were able to identify one by that little string of glinting silver. When he wore his watch people would often give him a wide berth or an odd look. He still took it out of his pocket often, sometimes actually checking the time, or just staring at the embossed front. When he held it in his hand like that it was almost as if it were another living thing, connected to him by umbilical cord of silver. It warmed with his body heat, pressed against his leg, in a way it never had when he'd carried it in his pocket.

It felt like some creatures heart in its hand, beating its steady rhythm when he held it to his ear. He sometimes took it off at night, when he bothered enough to change into sleeping clothes. He'd hang it by his bed, on the bed post or the night stand. Its quiet continuous ticking would send him to sleep. Sometimes when it was in his pocket he could almost hear that sound, just on the edge of his senses. It seemed to have its own soul. The soul of his past, his brother, everything hanging on his shoulders all wrapped up into one hopeful, persistent little circle. It fit in the center of his palm. He would look at it, resting their so peaceably. It was a promise to the future, a promise that things would get better. He would make sure of it. This watch was the first step. The watch would see it all.
He sometimes thought of quitting, to cease to be a dog of the state. There were always reasons calling him back, but the smallest one, the one that never failed to get him, was the thought of having to give back that watch. It was as if it had become a good friend, a confidant, an extension of his body, even more so then an arm or a leg. How odd to have a watch for a soul. But that's what it was, a little piece of him. He'd heard that if a person kept an object with them for a long period of time it would be infused with something uniquely them. Loved things tended to gain idiosyncrasies and personality. That was his watch. His heart ticking in his hand. A slice of truth nestled in his pocket. A memory clinging to his fingers. Hope.