It's funny sometimes how little Ed misses alchemy. He'd grown so used to having it, but the thing was, he'd always been using it toward something. Get Mom back. Get Al back. Stay alive. Stop Father. And now that he has Al, has stopped Father, has achieved what he meant to do… Well, he does still miss it, but he doesn't need to do alchemy to understand it or study it or build theories.

He'd half expected his memories of alchemy to be taken away with the ability, but they're all there. And inside there's this feeling, like coming across a locked door, that on the other side is his alchemy and all the Gate had done was lock it.

Ed doesn't try to get past it the way he picked the lock to his dad's study to learn alchemy years ago.

There are little moments when he wishes he could clap his hands and make things happen. The circles and calculations are balanced in his head, the mass and energy input, the chemical makeup clear in neat formulas as he tries to fix his coat or build a new barn. He misses it when he shatters a glass or when spring floods come around.

But Ed has two strong hands to build the barn and sweep up the glass and mend a hole, and one strong leg to go with the one Winry made. He doesn't need to poke at locks. Ed has everything he needs without its help.