Chapter 4: The Boy in the Mirror

"There we are. All done!"

Alphonse rubbed his now nearly bald scalp and looked down at the mounds of diseased, dull, straw-like hair piled around the chair he was in. The nurses had decided his hair was so heavily damaged from malnutrition it was better to shave it off and let him start over from stubble than to try to salvage it. Al dared not look up. He hated his appearance, hated the gaunt features, the bony arms, the grayish pallor of his skin.

"Don't you want to see your reflection, Alphonse?" said the hospital orderly who had given him his haircut, clasping a hand around Al's shoulder.

Slowly Alphonse lifted his head, eyes closed, dreading the sight of his own face. He waited until his head was level to open his eyes. He studied himself in the mirror, noticing that his almost total baldness only served to make him look even more withered and emaciated. Without his hair (even as dry and faded and awful as it was), there was nothing to draw attention away from his sunken eyes, his protruding facial bones, his cracked, chapped lips. "I can't—I can't look anymore!" Al looked down again, trembling, fighting back tears. "I look hideous! I'm a ghoul!"

"No, no, no," said the orderly as he walked around to stand in front of Alphonse. "You're not hideous. You're a handsome boy, and you'll be even more handsome when you gain some weight and fill out."

"You're just trying to make me feel better!" Al had started breathing heavily now, willing himself not to cry. "Look at how bony I am! How can you call me handsome?"

"You're not going to be like this forever, Alphonse. You've already gained eight pounds since you came here, and soon you'll be starting physical therapy so you can get your strength back. Don't be so hard on yourself; it's not good for you." The orderly rubbed Alphonse's head. "I'm going to take you back to your room now. Your brother is about to be discharged, so I think you should see him before he leaves."

Alphonse said nothing, but simply held his head in his hands as the orderly wheeled him back to his room. Far worse than looking ugly was the fact that he felt ugly—a horrible, gnawing feeling that he was somehow defective as a human being. He had always felt like he was not as strong, not as brave, not as handsome, not as wise as his brother, despite Ed's insistence to the contrary. Ed was always quick to tell him that he was not inferior, that he loved him the way he was, and Al was certain Edward believed that. But the problem was, that Alphonse himself did not.

Edward packed his books into his suitcase as he prepared to leave the hospital. Winry had purchased a set of clothes for him to wear, a brown suit with a soft white shirt and Oxford shoes. Sharp but comfortable, and not too formal. His old Fullmetal Alchemist getup was packed away in the suitcase, unlikely to ever be worn again. It was time for him to adjust to being a normal civilian and not a larger-than-life heroic figure; his days of wearing red coats and leather pants were over. He would miss being the Fullmetal Alchemist, but now was no time to live in the past, not when he was a youth on the verge of manhood with his whole life ahead of him and a brother who needed him.

It had now been a week since the Promised Day. The room Ed planned to stay in had three months' rent prepaid. The total came out to 165,000 cens—expensive, but for a room in the heart of Central within walking distance of the hospital, it was not bad. Ed's research grants from the previous year were completely exhausted; between room and board, food, research, travel, medical expenses (lots of medical expenses; he imagined his medical history could fill a book now), and the like, the young former alchemist had burned through 15 million cens in little more than a year. With an education almost entirely focused on alchemy at the expense of everything else, Ed would be lucky to make one tenth that amount at the jobs that would be available to him. His military pension would likely add 500,000 or so on top of that, but Edward would not be a rich man. He loved to travel, but he wouldn't be able to afford it with the money he would be making. At least my healthcare's free now since I'm a veteran, he mused to himself.

Ed stood up, picking his suitcase up off the floor, and walked over to Al's bed. "Hey," he said, kneeling at Al's bedside and resting a hand on his brother's chest. "I've gotta go now, before the nurses chase me out the door. I've rented a room in Central, so I'll be visiting you often. You hang in there and get well so we can go back home together, okay?"

"I'll try," said Alphonse. "Will you be all right by yourself?"

"After all I've been through? Living by myself away from home in a little apartment for a while is nothing. You should listen to yourself, lying here so sick and frail and worrying about me while I'm healthy and strong. Don't be so silly." Ed grinned, his smile simultaneously full of manly bravado and brotherly warmth, as he ruffled what was left of Al's hair.

"Brother?" Al sounded pained now.

"Yeah? What's the matter?"

"Am I ugly?"

"There you go again, beating yourself up. What have I told you about that? I'd never think such a terrible thing about you, ever. You're my little brother and I love you more than anything in the world. Are you upset about your hair?"

"Yeah, a little bit. Now I'm almost bald and I look even worse than before."

"Did you look closely at your roots? They look really healthy, much better than the hair you had when you came here. In a month or so you'll have a nice head of hair. Now stop thinking negative thoughts about yourself. You're only going to slow down your recovery acting like that. I'm going to head to my apartment, unpack my things, and get situated. I'll see you again in a few hours."

"All right, Brother. Bye. Thank you for staying in Central to be with me."

"It's no problem," said Ed, waving as he walked out of the room.

"Is Al being hard on himself again?" said Winry, leaning against the wall outside the door.

"Yeah." Ed rubbed a sore spot on his neck. "Blaming himself, thinking he's somehow broken, you know the drill. I love him to death, but I wish he'd knock it off for once. All it does is make him feel worse."

Winry sighed. "I know, it's frustrating. Self-pity's bad enough, but self-pity and self-hatred at the same time?"

"Yeah, but what can you do? Al's gonna be Al. He'll get over himself eventually." Ed bent backwards, stretching out his back. "That Father guy must have done a real number on me. A whole week and my body's still aching all over." Even Winry's massages could only temporarily relieve the pain. Even that one "special" massage on the second night. "Uhhh, hey, Winry?" he said, a blush starting to spread over his cheeks.

"What is it, Ed?"

"Well, I just want to, uh, thank you for a few nights ago when you, um..." Ed fumbled for words, trying to think of a way to put it that wouldn't offend Winry, any staff within earshot, or both.

"When I gave you a handjob, you mean?"

Ed's whole face turned red now; he wrapped his arms around himself reflexively, feeling supremely uncomfortable, as if his clothes had suddenly fallen off. "Y-yeah, that wa-was what I was...talking about."

Winry giggled. "No need to be all embarrassed about it, Ed. If you behave yourself, I just might give you another one sometime." With that, she briefly grabbed Edward's crotch, eliciting a choked squeal from the young man, who now was sweating and looking around nervously. "Anyway, are you sure you'll be okay by yourself?"

"Yeah," said Ed, still shaking a little bit as he tried to regain his composure and hoping no one besides Winry noticed his erection. "I have that little manual for my automail, and the spare set. I'll be fine."

"Good boy. Well, I have to catch the train back to Resembool. Take good care of your brother, and if you have any problems, give me a call. See ya!" She smiled widely and waved, and then turned to leave.

"Bye! Have a nice trip!" called Edward after her. He picked his suitcase back up off the floor, having dropped it when Winry was flirting with him.

"Hmmmm," came a deep voice behind him. "So she is your girlfriend after all."

"Colonel!" Ed whipped around 180 degrees in a fraction of a second, now having gone from beet red to deathly pale. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were blind!"

Colonel Roy Mustang smirked. "Dr. Marcoh did me a favor with his Philosopher's Stone. I can see quite well now, thank you very much. I could especially see how red you were turning when Winry was talking to you."

"Oh man..." Ed buried his face in his hands. "This is so embarrassing."

"Relax, kid," said Roy, patting Edward on the shoulder. "That girl's quite a catch; you should be proud. But I think your technique needs a little work." Roy straightened his uniform and his face took on a more somber expression. "I heard about what happened to your alchemy abilities. My condolences."

"It's not that big a deal," said Ed, straightening his posture. "I can get by without them. But now that you can transmute without a circle, it's not like you need me anymore anyway."

"Nonsense. You might not be valuable as a soldier anymore, but you're still valuable to me as a friend." Roy smiled again; this time a genuine one, and ruffled Ed's hair. "I guess you're not Fullmetal anymore, so what should I call you now?"

"Ed will suffice. But do you really see me as a friend, Colonel?"

"Yes. I like you. You're a good kid, and so is your brother. By the way, Ed, you're not a soldier anymore, you can knock it off with the whole "Colonel" business. Call me Roy." Roy extended his hand.

"All right, Roy," said Edward, shaking his former superior officer's hand. "I'm not actually going back to Resembool right now; I've rented a room a few blocks from here where I'll stay until they're ready to release Al. I want to be with him and take care of him. He deserves it after everything he's done for me."

"That's very admirable of you, Edward. But I really think we should both be leaving, before Dr. Knocs chases us out with a cricket bat."

Dr. Knocs grunted in annoyance as he heard the telephone ring. It always seemed to ring at the worst possible time, just as he was getting into his work. He muttered a curse under his breath before picking the receiver up. "Hello? Dr. Knocs, Central Hospital. What is it?"

"Hello, doctor," said Lan Fan on the other end. "Is Alphonse Elric in your care?"

"Yes, he is. How do you know that? Why are you calling me? You caused me enough trouble back when you and that other Xingese girl were being treated at my house." Dr. Knocs dreaded the thought of having to deal with her again, and her ridiculous Xingese sense of honor.

"Because I have someone who can help him. An alkahestrist, from my Young Lord's family. My sources tell me that Alphonse is very frail and won't be able to recover fully by normal means. I think His Grace Lord Han Yao might be able to help him."

"Don't be ridiculous. If you really think magic is any sort of substitute for real medical science-"

Lan Fan's tone turned icy and threatening, as if she wished she could physically attack him. "Do not mistake alkahestry for some sort of cheap stage magic, doctor. It is more powerful than you can possibly imagine. His Grace will be coming to see Alphonse, and you will treat him with the respect due to a foreign dignitary."

"Fine. Have it your way. Just make sure he stays out of my way."

"Stay out of his way and His Highness will stay out of yours. The Young Lord and his family owe the Elric brothers a great debt; this is a matter of honor for our clan and our country. Do not interfere."

Dr. Knocs slammed down the phone. It seems like he would have to deal with yet another inscrutable Xingese noble, this time one with the power to circumvent his authority as a physician. "When am I ever going to get some peace and quiet around here?" he muttered to himself.