They were at it again. The stupid military had sent the state alchemists on another mission like the dogs they were. Ed hated this. He was supposed to be looking for the Philosopher's Stone so he could get Al's body back. This was stupid. They weren't even doing anything of real consequence. And worst of all, Ed was paired up with Mustang.
The alchemists were divided into groups to carry out different aspects of their mission. Ed and Mustang were going into the supposedly abandoned city first, just in case there was an ambush. Considering that the state didn't give the alchemists without military rank (like Ed) any information as to why they were doing their mission, Ed didn't know what they were ultimately supposed to be looking for. He'd just been told to make sure there was no trouble for the other groups to run into. He was paired with Mustang because they were apparently the quickest and most skilled of all the alchemists. Which was probably true, what with Ed not needing transmutation circles and Roy just having to snap his fingers to blow things up.
Wait. Had he just thought of Mustang as Roy? Well, he supposed there would be some sense of familiarity with the Colonel. It was ultimately thanks to him that Ed even became a state alchemist, showing up at the Rockbells' the night he and Al had done the taboo, and then arranging for them to arrive on the train that would show off their determination and skill, and pointing them to Tucker, who was a spineless son of a bitch, but still helpful with his library.
Ed balled his hands into fists at the thought of Tucker. That bastard. How could he do that to his wife and daughter? He got what he deserved: a hasty execution.
"Why so uptight, Fullmetal?"
Ed looked at Mustang.
"Just thinking," he said and tried to cool his nerves. His temper was short enough as it is and he didn't want to blow up at Mustang without real reason. He'd been in too much trouble recently.
As the silence settled between them once more, Ed focused on their mission. The ghost town was seemingly empty. They had almost gone through the entire place and hadn't heard so much as a rat. Finally, they reached the outskirts of town.
"Well, that was a waste of time," Ed said and turned back the way they came.
Ed heard the snap first. Then he saw the flames.
"Ed!"
He turned in almost a daze. They were surrounded.
"What? How the hell did we not see them?" He quickly transmuted his auto mail arm into a sword. They had been fighting for a good fifteen minutes when the gears in Ed's leg started to catch a little, making him worry. "Damn it," he muttered when it caused him to stumble. He glanced at the sky. Mustang was no good with wet gloves. If it rained now, he'd basically be on his own with a bum leg.
"Let's finish this quickly, Fullmetal!" Mustang shouted. He'd noticed the clouds too.
"My thoughts exactly!"
There were dozens of them and they finally dwindled them down to three. These guys were martial arts masters and Ed thought they could give Al a run for his money. At one point, the fumble in Ed's leg caused him to take a nasty slice to the gut. He couldn't hold back the scream because he had to keep moving. He tried to ignore the blood, but he would quickly lose consciousness. Mustang was almost done with the other two bastards. Ed focused on his one.
Ten seconds later, his leg began to creak and whirr like it was struggling to stay connected. Ed's vision began to go fuzzy around the edges. All he could do was block the blows that were being thrown at him until Mustang could help. The only thing Ed could now focus on was the person directly in front of him and his limbs were on automatic.
With one final moan from his leg and what felt like a trip, Ed fell backwards, vision going black around his attacker bringing in a final blow.
"Roy!" he screamed in terror before landing on the mutilated street and losing consciousness.
It was raining. He could feel it on his face. He squinted his eyes, looking around. All he could see was gray sky and rain. He struggled to regain motor movement, turning his head to the side to see the pile of bodies that had been their ambush party.
"Ahh!" he screamed when he felt pain radiate through his entire abdomen. He looked down and saw Mustang tending to a large blade wound in his lower left stomach.
"You're awake!" Mustang said, dropping his jacket, which he was using to mop up blood. He leaned in closer, helping Ed sit up, which was rather painful considering the muscles required were currently sliced in two.
"Ngh. How long was I out?" Ed asked, propping himself up with his elbows and relaxing his stomach. It hurt too much to sit up.
"Only a minute," Mustang answered, resuming to clean up the blood. That's when Ed noticed that he wasn't wearing a shirt. Mustang had placed it and his cloak to the side to make way for cleaning the wound.
"Why didn't you just use my shirt to clean up my blood?" Ed asked with a raised eyebrow.
"It was already drenched with blood," Mustang replied. "I'm just cleaning it up right now so we can get you to a hospital.
"I don't need a hospital," Ed nearly whined. "I just need time to let it heal. Ah!" Mustang had put more pressure on it. Ed squinted up at Mustang through one eye.
"Don't need a hospital, huh?"
Ed sighed and dropped back to the ground. "You'll be fine, but you do need stitches and recuperation."
"Yeah, yeah…"
Mustang transmuted his jacket into a long strip of cloth to wrap around Ed's body.
"Sit up again so I can tie this," he ordered. Groaning, the teen did so.
"Oh, God, this sucks," he muttered. "How long do you think I'll be out?"
"On sick leave? Not more than three weeks, I'd say."
"Three weeks? OW!" He plopped back down to the ground with a thud, his arms suddenly turned to jelly from the pain.
"Don't get excited," Mustang said. "Try to sit back up. I've got to wrap this around one more time."
"You'll have to help me," Ed said and held out his left hand for Mustang to pull. Ed propped up on his elbows again.
"Ed, can you move your left leg?"
"Huh? What brought that up?"
"When you shouted earlier, your other leg bent and flailed just like your arms," Mustang said. "Your left leg remained stationary. I saw you fumbling around during the attack as well. Did the machinery blow out?"
"I think so," Ed said when he couldn't get the limb to move. He sighed. "Winry's going to kick my ass when she finds out. That silly wrench of hers—AH! What was that for?" Mustang had clapped Ed's wound when he finished dressing it.
"Let's go back to Central," Mustang said and pulled Ed up to his feet. "Don't move." Ed balanced there on his legs (one not functioning) as Mustang picked up Ed's shirt and cloak, transmuted the blood out of them (the size of the puddle it left on the ground almost made Ed sick), and fixed the tear in the shirt. "I wouldn't recommend wearing the shirt until your wound is tended to properly, but this should keep you warm. The wind is picking up." He handed the red cloak over to the teen.
"Thanks," Ed said quietly, really meaning it. Mustang may be a pompous ass, but he was a good man. Mustang took Ed's left arm and hoisted it over his shoulders. "Ahhh… This isn't going to work…."
"Why not?"
Ed's right foot was barely grazing the ground and as a consequence, Ed's body swung into Mustang's, hitting his wound repeatedly.
"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts…."
Mustang let him back down on the ground.
"Fine," he said and stooped to pick Ed up bridal style.
"WAAAA-! What are you doing? Put me down!" Ed yelled and flailed.
"Edward!"
Ed froze at the use of his full name.
"Stop moving! You're making this more difficult than it has to be!"
"Sorry."
"This will be easiest if you just let your arms and legs go limp," Mustang said.
"Easy for you to say," Ed muttered. "How long is the walk back to Central again?"
"An hour or two, so just shut up," Mustang said. "You'll make your wound that much more worse if you squirm."
"You going to be okay carrying me all that time?" Ed asked sarcastically.
"You don't weigh as much as you think, Fullmetal," Mustang retorted. Ed grumbled. How did he get stuck with being carried by this jackass? Oh yeah. A big-ass blade slicing through his stomach. That's how.
Ed didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he was woken up by a loud squeal. He looked up from Mustang's arms to see Lieutenant Hawkeye running up towards them.
"Oh, good God, Ed, I thought you were dead!" she screamed when he moved.
"No, I just fell asleep," he said, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
"And nearly got chopped in half, I see," she added. "Let's get you down to the hospital, then. Put him down, Colonel."
"Um," Ed began.
"His leg's busted, too," Mustang said. "He can't walk. I'll take him."
"You don't have to," Ed said, slightly blushing. How embarrassing to be carried everywhere by someone you're supposed to loathe. "You've been carrying me for over an hour. I can probably manage holding on to Hawkeye; she's not as tall as you."
"Ed, Winry Rockbell arrived in Central today to pay you a visit. I'll send her to the hospital to fix your leg later. Have you been carrying him the whole way, sir?" Hawkeye asked. Mustang nodded. "Sir, you should go rest. We received word on your attack and you must be exhausted."
"It'll just go quicker if I carry him there," Mustang reasoned, already heading towards the hospital. "Quite frankly, Ed's physical safety is more important than my fatigue." Ed rolled his eyes.
"Whatever, old man," he mumbled and closed his eyes again. He was extremely sleepy. Ed had conked out yet again between Central and the hospital. Mustang's voice startled him awake, whether he had intended to or not.
"We were attacked and he took a nasty blade wound to his lower left abdomen," Mustang informed the doctor. Mustang laid Ed down on a bed and pulled off his cloak, letting the doctor get to his wound.
The doctor poked and prodded and was nowhere near as gentle with it as Mustang had been. Ed winced the whole time, balling his hands into fists. Mustang didn't leave the room, but Ed was too tired and in too much pain to care very much.
"Well, I'd say at least sixty stitches," the doctor concluded. "I would like to clean out the wound first. Nurse, will you get the anesthesia?"
"No anesthesia," Ed said.
"What?" both Mustang and the doctor asked.
"Don't put me under," Ed said. "I've never taken anesthetics well. It can't be worse than getting auto mail attached, and I've done that several times."
"It's your call, my boy," the doctor said, putting on gloves to begin the procedure. "This shouldn't take long."
The stuff the doctor used to clean the wound smelled like rubbing alcohol and burned so badly that Ed yelled out in pain.
"Are you sure you don't want the anesthesia, Ed?" Mustang asked. He looked worried and almost like he was in pain watching.
"I'm fine," Ed said. "If you aren't comfortable watching, go take a nap like Hawkeye suggested. Ungh."
"I have to make sure you're okay," Mustang said quietly.
"I'm with the doctor, ain't I?" Ed grunted out. "You aren't helping much by standing there watching. GAH!" The doctor was wiping out the wound with cloth, bringing away any bacteria and a whole lot of blood.
Mustang rushed over and grabbed Ed's right hand and shoulder.
"It's my fault that you're in here, so I'm not leaving!" he nearly shouted at the boy.
"Your fault? How the hell is it your fault?" Ed asked, relaxing a little as the doctor prepared the stitches.
"If I had gotten there a few minutes earlier, I could have helped you fight that guy," Mustang said. "But I had to take my sweet old time flaming the rest of the guys." Ed was surprised at the self-hatred he heard in the Colonel's voice. He really felt guilty.
Ed gasped a little when the doctor began sewing him up, but didn't really feel pain.
"You beat yourself up too much, Colonel," he said. Mustang's eyes kind of glazed over and he was staring somewhere around the region of Ed's hair. "Mustang."
"Hmm? Oh… sorry. It's just, you've never called me Colonel before. It's always been Mustang or Colonel Mustang, but never just Colonel…. You did call me Roy once though." He smirked.
"When the hell did I do that?" Ed asked, mortified.
"Right before you passed out," Mustang said. "You sounded almost like that name was your only hope…."
"It was," Ed said. "Twisted as it is, you saved my life today, Colonel. I guess I kind of respect you a little more now." The doctor dressed the wound and left, saying Ed should rest, but not telling the Colonel to leave. Ed almost immediately began to doze off.
"Edward?"
The teen turned his head to look at the Colonel.
"Hmm?"
"Honestly… I was terrified."
Ed frowned.
"What are you talking about, Mustang?" Mustang's lips twitched in a small smile.
"I had seen you struggling throughout your fight," Mustang said. "I knew I had to get there to help you as soon as possible. When I saw you get sliced, I nearly abandoned my opponents to go kick that bastard's ass for making you bleed. When you screamed my name…" Ed held his breath. "I was just as scared as you. I feel like I'm responsible for you now, for some reason. And Al, too."
"Oh, yeah, where is Al?" Ed asked. His mind must really be foggy if it took him this long to ask about his brother.
"I'll go get him," Mustang said and stood. "You get some sleep in the meantime."
"Thanks, Colonel," Ed said and almost immediately fell asleep again.
Ed heard Al approaching before he saw him. He'd just managed to sit up a little bit when Al ran in.
"Brother!" he yelled and rushed to his side. "Are you all right? Mustang said there'd been an attack!"
"I'm fine, Al," Ed laughed. "Just a scratch. My main problem is my leg. It shorted out in the middle of battle."
"Winry's going to be mad," Al stated. Ed frowned.
"Yeah, I know," he said. "But I need a leg, so we can't hide it from her."
"Uh, brother?"
"Huh?"
"Are you sure you're okay?" Al asked, concerned. "There's blood seeping through the bandage." Ed pulled the sheets up to cover it up.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he said. "Just gotta let it heal up a little." Truthfully, he was worried. He'd never lost this much blood since the night he lost his arm and leg. It had taken him what seemed like forever to recuperate from that. And considering the location of these stitches, it would be very easy to tear the wound open again. He knew he'd have to take it very easy for a while. Winry ran into the room, her big box of tools slung over her shoulder.
"Edward Elric, what have you done now?"
Ed blushed.
"Hi, Winry," he said, trying to give the biggest smile he could.
"Uhh, I'm going to… go…" Al said anxiously, and nearly ran out the door. Ed's smile dropped.
"Al!" He sighed. "So much for moral support," he mumbled.
"Never mind that," Winry said, coming over to sit on the bed facing him, dropping her tools on the floor with a loud bang. "Lieutenant Hawkeye told me you and Mustang were under a surprise attack." Ed nodded reluctantly. "Oh, Ed. How badly were you hurt?"
"It was just a scratch," he tried to defend himself, but Winry had already pulled down the covers enough to see the long line of blood seeping through the bandage. Ed was mortified to see tears in her eyes.
"And that's after it's been stitched up," she said. "It doesn't hurt too badly, does it?"
"Not as much as attaching auto mail," Ed said. "It's no big deal, Winry. It just looks a hell of a lot worse than it really is."
"I talked to Mustang before coming here," she said. "He said you blacked out mid-fight from blood loss." Damn that Mustang. Ed huffed. "Ed… you could have died if you were alone."
"I know!"
Winry gasped and looked up at him. This was the first time she'd really seen Ed cry since the night he'd lost his limbs. He was looking at his lap, but she could see the tears dripping from his chin.
"I know that I'm reckless," he continued. "I know… I know that it worries everyone. I just—I… I have to get our bodies back the way they were. I'm willing to do crazy things like be the military's lap dog." Winry reached across Ed's body to grab his left hand.
"Ed…"
He looked up at her. She was slightly startled when he took his left hand from hers and wiped at her cheeks. She chuckled and did the same to him, wiping the tears away. They laughed a little together.
"I'm sorry, Winry," Ed said.
"Just don't die, okay?" she said. Ed swallowed and nodded.
"The next time I—"
"Edward Elric!" shouted Major Armstrong as he barged into the room. Ed was fuming.
"Oh, no, the terrifying pink sparkles," he whispered. Winry giggled.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Elric," Armstrong said, bowing. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes had told me you were being kept in the hospital under critical condition and that you were in a coma!" Ed growled.
"Hughes…."
Winry giggled again.
"I had to come see for myself that you were all right," Armstrong continued. "I heard that you were in great pain, so I will refrain from embracing you at this time."
"Thank God."
"But as soon as your pain has ceased, I will be sure to give you the warmest Armstrong embrace you have ever received." And he left. Ed was shaking with anger.
"He needs to realize that no one wants that!" he nearly screamed.
"He means well," Winry chided. "He's just a little over the top."
"Understatement of the millennium," Ed pouted. "He interrupted us."
"Oh, yeah, you were saying something. What was it?" Ed thought for a little, trying to remember.
"I forget…"
"Well then it couldn't have been very important," Winry said sadly.
"No, it was… I just can't remember what I was going to say," Ed said.
"Well, while you think about it, I'll get to work on your leg," Winry suggested, standing up.
"All right," Ed said, pulling the covers off and helping Winry take off his boots.
They'd gotten into a little routine over the years. Ed would have to take off his pants until Winry was done. Once he'd known that would happen, he'd started wearing boxers more frequently. They were less embarrassing to be seen in.
"I'll have to disconnect it to fix it," she said.
"Great," Ed said sarcastically.
"One, two, three."
Ed grunted with the pain as the auto mail was pulled away from his nerves. The disconnecting was never as bad as the connecting. He sat and watched Winry as she fixed his leg. She moved with precision and expertise, truly a master of her art. She was finished in a matter of minutes.
"All done!" she said, holding the leg in the air triumphantly. "It just needed a new connecting wire." She showed him the old one that was frayed and worn out. "That thing has lasted you since the beginning. I'm surprised it lasted this long." She packed her tools away and got out the clamp to reconnect the auto mail. "All right, brace yourself." Ed grabbed the mattress and mentally relaxed all the muscles in his leg that would soon be present. He'd accidentally kicked Winry once because he'd had the muscles tensed when it connected. "Three, two, one."
"AHHH!"
The pain from the auto mail made him fold in on himself, which in turn had pulled at his stitches.
"Ed!"
He'd collapsed back onto the bed, trying to relieve the pain in his abdomen. He may have just busted a stitch.
"I'm fine," he gasped. "That's just a rather inconvenient place to have stitches." He sat back up again and sighed. "Can you help me put my pants back on?"
"Of course," she said and grabbed them off the nearby chair. "Please try not to pull the stitches, Ed. I want you to heal as quickly as possible."
"And you think I don't?" Ed asked sarcastically. "All right, I got it from here." He pulled the pants up over his hips and buttoned and zipped them. "I just can't bend to get them over my feet." He leaned back against the wall. His breathing seemed more labored than it should have. Winry thought he must have lost a lot of blood to be so fatigued. She sat on the bed again and grabbed Ed's hand. She now sat on his left, so she could let their hands rest on her knee.
"I hate seeing you hurt," she said. Ed just grunted and looked like he was falling asleep. "Your hair is a mess. Do you want me to re-braid it?" Ed just grunted again. "At least take it out of the one it's in. It looks terrible." He frowned at her before pulling his hair out of its tangled braid and letting it flow around his shoulders. Winry leaned forward and ran her fingers through it, trying to get out some of the more visible knots.
"Of all the things you bring with you, a brush isn't one of them?" Ed teased and poked her stomach.
"You're one to talk," Winry rebuffed. "What do you bring with you? One set of clothes and that's it?"
"That's different," Ed said. "I'm travelling constantly. You're just on a visit."
Winry didn't reply. She reached up and tucked Ed's hair behind his ear. Ed raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest.
"You should get an ear ring."
"No."
"Fine."
They'd had that argument several times as well, but Winry kept bringing it up halfheartedly every so often.
"I love you."
"Huh?"
Ed was shocked. He had no idea the conversation was headed that way! And then she said it so bluntly like that—
"I love you, Ed," Winry repeated. Ed's mouth was open, but he couldn't speak. "And I know you love me. Actions speak louder than words." She pushed up his chin, closing his mouth. "Yes, you love me. You just don't know that it's love. You're so oblivious sometimes."
Ed thought a moment. She was right. He did love her. They'd grown up together and she'd always been his friend, even when he was being a total jackass. If that wasn't love, Ed didn't know what love was.
"Yeah…" he trailed off. He was kind of shell-shocked. "You're right."
"I'm always right," Winry said. They chuckled. "I want to hear you say it, Ed."
"What? That I love you?"
"Oh, yes! That sounded so nice!" Winry was squeeing. Ed rolled his eyes.
"You gotta calm down before I say it," he said, grabbing her shoulders and making her sit still. She immediately perked up, sitting straight and smiling widely. Ed grinned and sat up straighter. He ran an auto mail finger along the side of her face and tucked her hair behind her pierced ear. "Winry Rockbell, I love you." She squealed and kissed him. Ed was knocked over backwards and hit his head on the wall. "Ow!"
"Sorry," Winry said, but continued to kiss him. Ed could get used to this. He'd never kissed someone before. He could smell her and it was great. The feel of her lips on his was amazing. Then she grazed his wound.
"AH!"
Winry gasped and jumped back.
"I'm sorry, Ed," she cried. Ed grunted.
"Other side," he said. Winry giggled and walked around the bed to the side that didn't have stitches. She didn't lean in at all, just sat there. Ed got impatient and kissed her instead.
"Dear God, what monster have I created?" Winry asked teasingly.
"Your monster," Ed mumbled as he kissed her neck below her ear. Winry giggled and pushed him away a little.
"You're silly."
"Why, thank you."
Winry laughed and kissed him quickly.
"You should get your stitches checked," she said, leaning her forehead against his. "I think you broke one."
"Aw, do I have to?" he whined.
"Yes, you have to."
He pouted and crossed his arms.
"And you have to drink your milk when it comes," she said. He visibly cringed.
"How many times have I told you? If I hate it, I hate it!" Winry laughed and paused in the doorway.
"I'll come back later tonight to visit, okay?" she asked.
"More than okay," Ed said. Winry smiled.
"You know, I kind of like your hair down," she said. "It's starting to curl." Ed just sat there staring at her and she left the room with a giggle. Ed smiled.