Author's Notes:
Contains an explicit description of the experience of a panic attack.
The green lion devouring the sun is a common alchemical symbol.
His hands were shaking as he turned the tap on. The swaying of the train didn't help.
The Ed in the mirror above the sink looked pale but ultimately composed. It was impossible to tell from that impassive face that there was a terrible yawning something in his chest threatening to swallow him whole. He felt like someone had opened the Gate inside of his guts, and its disgusting black tendrils were tugging at his veins and muscles, pulling them into the void. His skin crawled.
He scrabbled imeffectually at his right glove for several long seconds, then gave up and tugged it off with his teeth. He couldn't feel the tap water on his automail hand as he collected a cupped handful, but as he splashed it against his face, it's iciness shocked him and he shivered violently. He choked down a sob.
"Brother, are you alright?" Al called through the door.
"I'm fine!" Ed called, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I'm just washing my face!"
Ed screwed his eyes shut as he doused himself with more water. The chill made him gasp with shock each time he splashed his face. It disguised the ugly hitching sobs he was trying to swallow down. He raised his cupped hand to his mouth and drew in a mouth full of water to swish and gargle. The cold of it made the roots of his teeth ache, but it cleared out the taste of vomit. He spat it out and repeated the motion until the taste in his mouth was gone.
He took out his handkerchief and wiped at his face. He caught a glimpse of his expression in the mirror, mouth screwed up tight into a wobbly frown. He quickly smoothed his expression out and looked away in disgust. He took a handful of deep, slow breaths, just like Hughes had taught him that time he'd caught Ed having a panic attack at the sight of a father-daughter duo walking a big, stupid looking dog.
The cold sweat on his brow had all been washed away, but Ed felt no less clammy and disgusting. His hands were still shaking, but at least the ants under his skin were no longer crawling in his ulnar artery and tingling through his palmar arches, having instead retreated to their usual home in the vast abyssal pit in his gut. He flexed his left hand, then his right. The automail shouldn't have been trembling but it was, so that meant that he had to have been doing it on purpose, somehow, but he just couldn't stop.
Ed bit his lip, but he quickly caught himself and let go. He smiled into the mirror. The wrongness of his face was not reflected therein. The young man who was ostensibly his reflection looked pleasant and carefree and brashly cheerful. Ed determinedly fixed his face in that position, and swallowed as his stomach suddenly heaved again and brought up a disgusting mouthful of bile.
He unlocked the door.
"Brother! I almost thought you'd accidentally flushed yourself down the bowl!" Al scolded when he slipped out of the train bathroom. "We're almost at our stop!"
"Ah, my bad, Al." Ed said, waving him off nonchalantly. "I wanted to wash my face to wake myself up a bit. You know I always feel worse after napping on trains."
Al took a moment to be silently but pointedly concerned, but then he decided to let it go just this once.
"Well, come on then. We're almost at the station!"
Ed allowed himself to be herded towards the carriage's door. When the train started slowing with a horrible screech, he stumbled into Al and had to grip his cold metal arm to stabilise himself.
"Oops." Ed mumbled. "'M fine." He added for Al's sake.
"I'm fined," he repeated to himself.