Golden Scales Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

o.O.0.O.o

A half an hour later, we disembarked. Hot summer wind dipped down to greet us. I breathed in its scent, filling my lungs with bittersweet longing and homesickness. I never told anybody. Not even Alphonse. But I would always miss this place. And whenever I came back, I privately pretended that I'd never have to leave again.

It was silly, though. As long as Al still needed his body back, I would always have to leave again. Coming home would have to wait for as long as that took.

I glanced up at my armored brother. A shell. Not even what he used to look like, but quite the opposite. A pang of regret tugged at my stomach, and I shook my head, refocusing on the road in front of us. So far, keeping my eyes forward has been what's kept me going, and that pesky self-loathing at bay. I took another deep breath and, after a couple of farewells from our escorts, I lead my brother towards the southern end of town.

I ignored the town as we passed, for the most part. I'd seen it enough times in my life to navigate it blindfolded. The people there, what little was left of them, waved and smiled at us. Alphonse waved back, compensating for my lack of enthusiasm. I viewed it as a waste of time. We'd just be leaving again anyway. No point in getting excited over seeing someone who you'll only be with for a few weeks at the most.

Just as I finished that thought, a searing pain flitted through my shoulder. I clenched my teeth again. An unmistakable ache gripped the area, and the pain that racked my shoulder before returned. This time, four stabs of it shocked my system before disappearing again. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. I opened them again, and I could feel little sparks of discomfort here and there. A few minutes later it faded.

I looked up at my brother to find the armor standing menacingly above me, arms crossed, red soul-fire glaring down at me.

"Brother," he said, his voice deceptively calm, "If you don't say anything about this while we're there, I swear to God I'll knock you into next week."

I swallowed and replied, "Got it."

With that, we stepped onto a familiar long stretch of gravel. We could spy the house from there, just past a few grassy hills. Dread settled in my chest. On the train, I wanted to get away from my worrisome escorts. With them long gone, I found myself wishing for a longer distance again. I was definitely not looking forward to that metal wrench.

o.O.0.O.o

"Brother? Are you… humming?"

The blond teen stopped a second time and blinked despite himself. Humming? Him? Was Al joking?

"Ummm, no?" he replied.

The armor didn't look convinced. "Ummm, yes. Yes you were."

"I don't hum, Al! Now drop it."

"Whatever you say, Brother…"

He could practically feel the vein on his forehead pulsing, but he chose to keep his mouth shut.

A few minutes passed before Edward noticed it: humming. Soft and barely audible, but, most importantly, coming from him. The teen didn't stop. He listened to it. The melody, a light and cheerful song, sounded vaguely familiar. Like something he used to hear all the time as a child. Something his mother might've sung to him.

After listening to a few verses, Edward forced himself to stop. From then on he made a point to monitor his vocal activity. A few minutes later they reached the door of the Rockbell house.

Faster than Edward could blink, the door slammed open and a single steel wrench sailed right for his forehead, full throttle.

Whack!

A strangled scream could be heard for miles in the vast land of the countryside. The scream ebbed into a low groan and the injured teen recuperated just enough to withstand the next onslaught of attacks. This time verbal.

"How many times do I have to tell you?!" the blonde girl yelled, "CALL IN ADVANCE!"

Another muffled shout from inside the house: "Pipe down out there! I'm in the middle of a surgery here!"

Winry, a bit quieter this time, shouted back, "Sorry, Granny!"

By this time, Edward slumped against Alphonse's steel form, barely able to keep himself upright even with the extra support. In Winry's eyes, the teen was just being an over-dramatic cry baby. She scowled and crossed her arms.

"So," she asserted, "Let's have it. What's your excuse this time?"

Edward hissed as he levered himself upright, clutching his bruised head. "That's it? No warm welcome after three months? You're just going to stand there and yell at me for not calling ahead of time?"

Immediately she snarled, "I'll give you a warm welcome when you come home without BROKEN AUTOMAIL!"

"I DIDN'T BREAK YOUR STUPID AUTOMAIL THIS TIME!"

Alphonse hummed in disagreement, but kept silent.

"MY AUTOMAIL IS NOT STUPID! IT'S BEAUTIFUL ART, AND IT WOULD STAY THAT WAY IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A RECKLESS DUMBASS!"

"QUIET DOWN OUT THERE!" Pinako screeched.

"Sorry, Granny!" the three teens chorused.

The two normal-ish teenagers settled for an intense glaring contest for a short while after that. This gave them an opportunity to survey themselves properly without a red fuzz-frame of anger fogging their vision.

Winry wore her usual grease-monkey jumpsuit. A black crop top, loose-fitting green pants, and the jacket tied around her waist. Splattered across that jacket was Unknown Fluid number 1 and Unknown Fluid number 2, hinting that she might've been at work in the shop before the returning brothers showed up. Only her hair rebelled against completing the image. The ends of it sported scorch marks and shorter length, suggesting a small shop-related accident with a blowtorch. A pang of worry flitted through Edward's chest at seeing this.

Edward himself was less of a wreck than usual, Winry silently admitted. He'd managed to keep his red coat relatively clean and undamaged. He wore his hair in his usual charming braid. No scratches or bruises marred what little skin she could see so far, except for his forehead where she'd nailed him with her wrench earlier. Unknown to her, she smiled slightly as she caught sight of a small suitcase sitting on the gravel driveway. That meant they planned on staying a few days. Which also meant Winry would be given plenty of opportunities to harass and tease her favorite wrench-target before they set off again.

She cleared her throat. "Well, it's nice to see you two again."

"Yeah," Al replied, "It's nice to be home again. Right, Brother?"

"Sure, Al. Whatever you say…"

Whack!

"WINRY!"

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU KIDS TO QUIET DOWN OUT THERE!"

"SORRY, GRANNY!"

o.O.0.O.o

Later that day, at the dinner table, I poked my "meat loaf" with a sour frown. Glaring at my meal, I avoided Winry's gaze as the blonde mechanic asked all sorts of questions. The last thing I needed right then was another wrench to the head. Not to mention, my leg port began to bother me as well. It throbbed dully while my arm port laid in wait for its next vicious attack.

Al didn't notice a thing, thankfully. He was too busy talking.

"… a band of serial killers loose in Central. But brother thinks there's something else going on. Something bigger."

Winry eeped in surprise. "Serial killers?! Well, it's a good thing they got him out of there. Ed here would've been dead meat!"

I jerked my head up and shouted, "Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!"

"It means you're a weak little shorty who can't handle himself out there." Pinako answered absently.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLIN' LITTLE?! I CAN HANDLE MYSELF JUST FINE, YOU OLD MINI-HAG!"

Alphonse interjected, "Hey guys? How about we actually get along this time? Eh? Doesn't that sound like fun?"

We stared at him for a moment before reluctantly sinking back into our seats.

Winry ventured, "Well Ed, I'm a bit relieved. You guys coming home without broken automail is a refreshing change."

If Al had his body, I figured he would've been glaring at me right then. To make up for his lack in proper eyes, the armor settled for staring at me and crossing his arms. I swallowed, suddenly remembering Al's threat earlier that day. I just about built up the nerve tell Winry the truth when a scream ripped through the house.

Pinako slowly got up and sighed. "That would be the patient waking up. I'll go take care of him."

Once she left the room, Winry turned on me. "Alright, Ed. What's it going to take to make you drink your milk? Am I going to have to pin you down and stuff it down your throat?"

I blinked at the unexpected subject change. Sure enough, my glass sat untouched next to my dinner plate. I sent a knowing smirk in Al's direction before answering.

"You can't even pin me down, Winry. You're a girl."

"Oh, you wanna bet?" she growled, tensing her shoulders.

She stood up and clenched her fists. Fortunately for me, Winry's wrench was nowhere in sight. However, that didn't stop her from vaulting forward and tackling me. We grappled for about a minute before I shoved her off and found my footing again. She recovered well enough, picking herself up in seconds. Before Winry could properly launched herself at me again, I dashed out of the room.

No one was prepared for what happened next.

o.O.0.O.o

As soon as I cleared the doorway, I received my worst shock yet. My arm port erupted into stabbing pain, causing me to release a distressed shriek. Clenching my teeth and shoulder, I fell to my knees. All I heard was the blood rushing through my head and the alarming pounding of my heart. A bout of sudden dizziness and nausea overwhelmed me. My vision dimmed and I squeezed my eyes shut.

After what felt like centuries of agony, my senses slowly returned to me.

"…Ed! Ed, please answer me! ED!" a faint voice called.

The pain seemed to ebb at a snail's pace. I could only bear the slow transition in complete stillness until I gained full muscle control again. When I did, my hearing came in a little better. I could feel my heart slowing down in my chest. The skin around my arm port throbbed numbly as my surroundings sharped into a better focus. Not perfect, but better.

"…W-Wi-nry?" I croaked.

My voice sounded pitiful, even to me.

Winry's shoulders dropped in relief. "Ed! What happened? Are you alright?"

She steadily lifted me into an upright sitting position and leaned me against the wall. She held her hand against my left shoulder to keep me from falling. Before I could muster enough energy to speak again, Alphonse knelt next to us and said,

"His arm port was bothering him earlier, too. We don't know what's wrong with it."

The blonde mechanic frowned, her brow creased in worry. "I need to see it. Help me get his jacket off."

In my condition, I was in no shape to protest. The two carefully slid my jacket off, unfastened my other jacket, and slid that off as well. When my port shone exposed in the dim lighting, Winry gasped.

Red. It was all red. Thick, angry red boiled beneath the skin attached to the metal. Red oozed from the creases and dripped down my arm and, unknown to me until then, it had been soaking my jackets in sticky crimson. The pain had left me, replaced by throbbing numbness like earlier. The horrified expression on my mechanic's face said it before she voiced it:

"The port needs to come off. Right now."