Disclaimer:Fullmetal is not mine. But I do consume cows and many cow related products whenever I can. Maybe that will keep Arakawa from drawing little Winrys (Winries?) with Big Wrenches to chase after me for abusing Edward so.
Canon:Animeverse including CoS and the Mangaverse where it doesn't directly contradict, or Ed where tells me "yah that happened, but it was like this:"
Note:
Reviews are wanted, so please encourage me with feedback whether it's
good or bad. It lets me know you read it and either enjoyed it, or
that you think I need to work harder to make it enjoyable and why.
If you see some glaring error, please feel free to point it out. I'm
really not too delicate, and I usually actually go and fix those.
Previously: Edward Elric ill with an automail infection in his shoulder socket is struggling with fever and other symptoms of shock. Alphonse has been watching over him alone since General Mustang left to drive Winry the rest of the way to Central from Granas. Alphonse is becoming exhausted, and frustrated with his brother because much to his alarm, Edward seems to have decided that he is dying, and keeps asking Alphonse to help him get his affairs settled. Finally, in the early morning, Alphonse nearly sick with worry himself hears someone pull up outside.
Alphonse lifted his face out of Edward's quilt and grasped Edward's hand in his. He hiccuped, trying to regain his composure. He didn't want to shout at his brother any more. He knew Edward just didn't know what he was saying. He was sick and miserable, and the medication was confusing him. He wished he could call Doctor Sheridan, or Winry. Anyone he could talk to right now would help. Anyone other than Edward. Alphonse hated himself for thinking it, but Edward was convinced he was dying, and Alphonse who should have known better was starting to believe him too. He was starting to feel a desperate need for someone to refute him. So desperate in fact that he kept thinking he heard a car turn into the drive, and kept getting up to look. This time, he hesitated, but after a moment he was sure he heard the crunch of gravel and ice under tires in the driveway.
"I
think someone is here," he said, jumping up from the chair,
dropping his brother's hand. He hurried to the window to see. "Someone's here, Brother!" he repeated, rubbing at his face,
trying to remove any trace of the weakness of his tears. He couldn't
tell by the car, even after the headlights were out, in the dim light
it could have been the car Roy had requisitioned, or it could have
been Dr. Sheridan's which was similar. He wasn't sure which he hoped
for more at this moment. He watched until someone stepped out where
he could see who had arrived. "Oh thank goodness!" he mumbled.
He nearly collapsed with relief, stumbling back across the room to
sit in his chair next to Edward. He flipped the compress on his
brother's forehead. "Thank God…" he sighed, and seeing that
his brother was as settled as could be expected, Alphonse went
downstairs to open the door.
Date: 08.Dec.19
Time: 07:24
Location: Central City - Home of General Roy Mustang
"Alphonse…" Winry stepped through the door as the younger brother opened it for her. "Oh…" His face spoke volumes of distress and exhaustion. She drew him into her arms for a moment; hardly failing to notice how much taller he was now. Of course, even Edward was taller than she was now; at least by a little bit. How it must irk him for his little brother to have half a head in height on him. "You look really wiped out, Alphonse," Winry said, pushing back from him and giving him a more thorough look before pulling him into the living room out of Mr. Mustang's way.
"I'll bring your bags upstairs in a minute, Miss… Doctor Rockbell," Mustang told her, his normally smooth voice sounding a bit rough around the edges. He nodded toward the stairs, as he set her luggage in the entry. "I'm sure you're anxious to see Fullmetal. Just leave them there for now," he added, going back outside.
Winry nodded her acknowledgement to the older man, her attention still on the younger one. "Your eyes are red. You haven't had any sleep?" She was sure it was more than just a lack of sleep. Alphonse looked like he was on the tail end of an emotional meltdown. "Edward's been difficult." Winry made it a statement of fact. Edward was always difficult.
"I don't like to leave him alone up there for so long, Winry." Alphonse looked towards the stairs, the worry evident in his voice.
Alphonse moved on into the house, so Winry followed. "He's that bad?"
"Brother's had a rough time overnight," Alphonse answered as they climbed the stairs. "His temperature is also up right now, so he's not thinking too clearly."
Alphonse pushed the door open and waited while Winry stepped through into the room. It was a nice room. Her first feeling about it was approval, the colors weren't so pale as to be cold and clinical, but the cool blue ought to be soothing to someone who was ill. It was obviously a sick room, though. The slightly stale odor of sickness and sweat was enough, without even turning her gaze on the occupant. Winry almost wanted to close her eyes so she wouldn't have to see how miserable and small Edward seemed.
The covers were mostly pulled back, his shirt unbuttoned and pushed open. A compress lay on his forehead and another across his broad, muscled chest. A thin layer of gauze covered the coating of medicine and bio-grease spread around his shoulder port. Winry peeled it away as gently as she could to get a look at it in front. The skin around Edward's socket looked inflamed and swollen. Winry shook her head, hating to see it, knowing how painful it had to be. Edward's tolerance was phenomenal, but pain was pain, and it took his strength she was sure. At least he was resting. He might be tough against pain, but fever could make Edward rave so. It was no wonder Alphonse was looking so careworn.
"Edward?" Winry called his name softly as she sat on the edge of the bed. The eyes fluttered a little. Edward sighed softly, but he didn't waken. Her hand settled on the chest compress. It needed cooling, so she pulled it off and handed it to Alphonse, her hand smoothing the moisture it left behind through the fine scattering of light, golden hair he had now. "Edward?" Winry said his name again, touching his hot cheek.
This time Edward's eyes opened a little, dull and glassy. He closed them with another sigh, as if he were so tired that just that small effort had exhausted him. After a moment though, they drifted open again and seemed to study her face. "Win…" Edward lifted his left hand listlessly, bumped it against her thigh; tried to bury weak, clumsy fingers in the heavy wool fabric of her skirt. "'M glad you came."
Taking his fumbling hand in her own, Winry rubbed the back of it, as she sat there on the bed with him. She hoped he could stay awake with her for at least a few minutes. Edward looked bad. Winry wanted to know how bad. "Edward?" She kept her voice gentle. Pressing his fingertips, Winry watched to see how long it took for the color to return under his nails. She frowned at the results and gave the back of his hand a gentle pinch. "He's very dehydrated, Alphonse."
"I know," the younger brother answered, walking around the bed to put the compress back on Edward's chest, and taking the one from his forehead. "It's been difficult, Winry. He hasn't been able to keep anything down most of the weekend."
"'M thirsty," the elder brother mumbled as Winry smoothed out the moisture under that compress, too.
"I know, Edward." Winry glanced up at Alphonse as the younger brother handed her a glass of water. "Do you know if Mr. Mustang might have a lemon?" She sighed, impatiently. "Don't make such a stupid face, Alphonse!" She told him sharply, "If he has one, go and get me a slice of it!"
The boy fled. Winry hoped it meant there was a lemon to be had, and not that she'd frightened him off.
"Don't be so hard on him, Winry…" Edward's voice was barely audible. He tried to wet his lips. Winry rubbed a little of the water on them and a little more when the tip of his tongue eagerly took it. "He doesn't know how to deal with this." He closed his eyes and Winry thought he might have gone back to sleep. After a moment, though, they opened, regarding her as she patted the compress against his cheeks and throat. "He was just a little boy when Mom died."
Winry's hand clenched the wet towel until it dripped, her eyes snapping. "Don't say such stupid things, Edward!" she snarled.
At least Edward had the presence of mind to be startled. That was a good sign.
"Is that the kind of stuff you've been saying to Alphonse?" Winry demanded not waiting for an answer. "It's no wonder he's a mess! Well I won't have it."
"What?" Edward seemed to think he was imagining things. His voice cracked in alarm.
"You heard me," she told him. "You said stupid things like that to him, making him cry, and him almost a grown man. You can just stop it now, because you're not dying. Geeze, Ed!" Winry rolled her eyes at him.
Eyes wide, Edward seemed almost alarmed, his lips drew back, baring his teeth a little. Then he bit his lip and looked away.
Winry took pity on him, smoothing her cool fingers over his hot forehead before replacing the compress there. "You may feel like it, Ed, but the fever is just taking your strength from you. And the infection." Winry squeezed his hand a little. Her other hand settled on the coverlet over his metal knee. "And… unfortunately, your leg too, Ed. It's using bio-energy that you really can't afford to feed it right now. You need it for your own healing."
"What?" Edward's voice was barely audible. "But-" his expression was pained. She could have sworn his eyes had misted with tears before he hooded them. "What if I need it Winry? It's my… my leg…"
Gentling her expression, Winry sighed softly as her hand stroked Edward's bangs back from his face. His hair felt so brittle and oily. "I know Ed." He needs a bath, she thought. He was normally so fastidious. It was strange to see all his gold looking so dull and tarnished. Edward was so pale now; even his eyes seemed hazel instead of amber. Stranger still to see the stubble of beard sparkling against his cheek. He'd feel a little better if he were at least clean again. "I don't like to take it from you either," she tried to sound reassuring. She knew how he must feel. Even if he was too weak to get up, having his leg at least took away some of his sense of helplessness. "But you don't have enough energy to power it right now. You need it for the rest of your body."
Edward nodded sullenly, but he wouldn't make eye contact.
Winry massaged the back of Edward's hand with her thumbs and then laid it across his chest. She folded the blankets back from his legs to take a look at them. His pajamas were in the way, and when she tried rolling the leg up she realized that Alphonse had put a wool sleeve on Edward's leg to keep the cold steel from chilling his flesh leg through the thin fabric. She smiled at it, even though it was in her way.
Winry recognized the clumsy stitches, the uneven red and cream pattern. Gracia had been trying to teach her when Winry had made this tube for Edward last winter. Winry thought she was about hopeless, but Edward had said he liked hers because it was heavier. Winry hadn't argued, though she knew it was thick because her stitches were too tight. At any rate, she was going to have to take off Edward's pajamas to get to the buttons up the outside of his leg, so she left it for now.
Lifting both his feet off the bed, Winry held them together to compare them. "Look Ed," she waited until he dragged his eyes to what she wanted to show him. "I'd have to take it off to make the adjustments anyway." She told him crisply, trying to keep her tone professional. "Your left foot is way smaller than your right. I bet you've been stuffing your shoe with rags again," she added, pretending annoyance. "Never mind mentioning to me that your foot doesn't fit anymore. I'll have to rebuild it."
"Sorry."
"What?" Winry had barely heard him, but she was sure she had blinked.
Edward cleared his throat carefully. "I'm sorry you have so much work to do on it," he managed a little more volume, but his voice was tight with emotion he wouldn't normally have shown.
Often Winry wished that Edward were a little more demonstrative. Now that it came down to it though, it nearly broke her heart to hear him.
"When you get a little of your strength back, you can use your spring-loader."
Edward's eyes widened a little. "You have it?"
"More correctly," Winry raised a finger; "We have it. I shipped it to Alphonse last week. I made the adjustments based on the rough measurements Alphonse did for me."
"I brought it from our apartment on Saturday, Brother," Alphonse added lightly as he came back in the room with the lemon. "I brought it over with me, remember?"
Edward shook his head. "I don't-don't 'member much from yesterday Al," he whispered.
Winry's eyes met those of the younger brother, who shook his head. Edward was too out of it to realize that it was Monday, now.
"Don't want to." He sighed closing his eyes. "'M tired now."
"Brother?" Alphonse reached out a hand towards his brother, but Winry stopped him.
"Let him go Al," she told him quietly. She took the bowl of fresh lemon wedges from him and guided him to sit in the chair next to Edward's bed. "He needs the rest," she told him as she squeezed some juice into the water. "It might be easier on him if he's asleep when I disconnect his leg, anyway."
"His leg?" Alphonse's tired eyes flew open; his hands gripped the wooden arms of the chair. "But Winry!"
"Shh…" Winry smoothed her hand over Edward's cheek, but he didn't react. "He's asleep again." She brushed Edward's hair back from his face again and then turned to crouch next to Al's chair. "Listen to me Alphonse. You understand that his automail limbs don't have their own power source right? They use bio-electric energy his body produces to create the power to run them."
Alphonse nodded, and she brushed his bangs back from his face too. He was obviously so tired. Winry wondered when the last time he'd really slept was. "Automail limbs don't really power down when they're at rest. Well," She amended, "not in the same way our natural limbs do. They still use more energy. I'm working on an idea that would change that, but for, right now, Edward's body needs all the energy it can get. Sick as he is, he can't afford to waste any on a leg he's too weak to use. Once I disconnect it, I think he'll start to recover some of his strength. If nothing else he won't have something extra draining it anyway."
Winry unbuttoned the top of Edward's pants, and started to peel them down.
"Winry!" Alphonse jumped up, red faced and full of modesty for his brother's sake. Then he drew his hands back, curling his fingers in embarrassment for his outburst. "Sorry."
"Alphonse," Winry took his hands. "You're so sweet and old-fashioned," she said gently. "Both of you are sometimes. It's not anything I haven't seen before, unless you expect him to do something unusual. That got the desired chuckle from the younger brother. It's not as if the fabric really conceals that much either, she thought. "But why don't you take them off and I'll pull a sheet across him as you do. Okay?" She asked brightly.
"Eh heh," Alphonse laughed uneasily, as she let go of his hands and moved to the other side of Edward. "Okay, Winry." His tone told her he didn't think much of her idea, but he did as he had been told anyway.
Winry had really intended to humor the boy, and keep the sheet between her eyes and anything Alphonse was worried about her seeing. The livid bruise over the inside of Edward's hip and into his groin shocked her into recanting that intention. Winry sucked her breath in sympathetically, and pulled the sheet back to examine it.
"Alphonse," she breathed, gingerly touching the edges of the bruise. "How did this happen?"
"It's–" The boy hesitated. "We're not sure Winry."
"Not sure?" She stared at him. "Didn't he tell you how he did it?"
"No," Alphonse said. "We found it Saturday when we put him back to bed. Mr. Mustang believes he ran into the corner of the table in the dining room. He was really confused, and was after his arm. He left a big scratch on the table where he dragged the arm across it."
Winry withdrew he probing fingers when Edward whined softly in his sleep and tried to shift away from her touch. She didn't want to wake him until she'd finished with his leg. "Well," she said, pulling the covers over it "That's a bone deep bruise. I don't think he could walk right now even if he did have the strength."
"Mi-Doctor Rockbell," Mustang spoke from the doorway. Winry wondered how long it would be before he stopped correcting himself. In all honesty, she wished he would just call her by her name, especially if she was a guest in his home. Their relationship was strange enough already, without the unnecessary formality. "I thought you might prefer to be close, so I put you in the next room," the general was saying. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the direction. "I'm sorry, but it's not a very big room."
"I'm sure it's fine Mr. Mustang."
"No, I mean that I don't really think you'll have room to set up a workspace, so I'll clear some space for you in my workroom later. Alphonse already has part of Edward's arm in there soaking in anti-corrosives I believe."
Alphonse nodded.
"So I can clear the rest of that bench for you," Mustang concluded decisively. "In the mean time, I think you had asked me to keep this case handy?" he asked.
Winry snatched the small fabric case of tools he held out to her, almost gushing. "Oh yes! Thank you!" Her hands squeezed the case for a moment before she unrolled it onto the bed next to Edward's metal leg.
In moments, a soft hiss told her the hydraulics had depressurized as the leg shut down at her direction. She flipped open the two release toggles embedded on the edge of the socket and with a gentle twist, the leg came of in her hands. Edward barely even mumbled in his sleep. "There now," she set Edward's leg down and patted the thigh that was all he had left on that side. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" She asked, as she pulled the sheet back over his legs. "Let's leave his foot uncovered, Alphonse, until his temperature comes down some, Ok? Meanwhile, why don't you get me your notebook so you can tell me about his medicines? I want you to get some rest soon too."
End Notes: Took long enough didn't it? I'm really sorry about the long wait for this chapter. It's a little short too. I had planned on taking it further, but this afternoon I was looking at it and decide that it was a good place to break. The next chapter "It Takes a Woman's Touch" is already mapped out for the most part I think. Thanks for your patience. It took me some time to solve a continuity problem, and then there's also just been many things going on with me this summer. Maybe now that I don't have as many irons in the fire, I can move the story along
Special Note: Tanks to Evil Little Dog for her beta and suggestions. Much appreciated.
