THREE WISE MONKEYS

Hey! pale-blue11 here

Thanks for the review, Guest! That name was so cute :D

Sorry for having to leave :\ I really appreciate all the feedback from last chapter :)

CHAPTER ELEVEN • The Third Tuesday

Ed had never had a more realistic dream. It even lingered into wakefulness, so that he could almost feel as if his table, or the floor, or wherever he had fallen asleep, was soft. Perhaps the mattress against the wall had fallen, or he was leaning up against it.

But he wasn't alone, that much he knew for certain. Envy was there, watching, waiting, ready for their next session. Ed couldn't let him know that he was awake. With any luck, Envy would grow tired of standing there and leave. Half an hour, Ed guessed. Half an hour and he could open his eyes.

"—Awake yet?" The question almost made Edward frown, but he quickly schooled his features back to blankness. It sounded like… like the colonel.

"No, not yet. But he's been moving a lot more." And that was Alphonse. Ed relaxed. He was okay. He was safe.

He was still dreaming.

So he blinked, vision blurry with the usual fog of sleep. Slowly, the metallic blur hovering anxiously above his bed formed edges that jerked closer with a loud, dramatic gasp. Edward flinched away instinctively—who wouldn't, even in a dream? The steel horn jutting out of the armour's forehead was worryingly near.

"Brother!" the vision of Alphonse cried in relief. "Brother, you're awake!"

Ed regarded him sadly and nodded. How long would it take for the dream to turn sour?

"Fullmetal."

He winced. That long, apparently. Mustang walked over to stand at the foot of his bed, watching him with an expression of stern worry. It took a few moments for him to speak.

"Are you feeling better?"

There was no doubt in Ed's mind that it was a dream. He couldn't possibly be lying in hospital, and his brother couldn't possibly be with him. In less than a few minutes, Al's armour would shift, producing the monsters of nightmares, and Mustang would morph into Envy. And then Ed would wake up, ready but unwilling to face the genuine Envy. The real monsters.

But he nodded, opening his mouth to say, 'Yeah, a bit better'. And no sound came out.

That didn't matter. He was dreaming.

Alphonse moved away slowly, and even without a face, Ed knew he was worried. It was woven into his body language, the way he carried himself. If the real Alphonse had come to rescue him, is that what he might have looked like?

"Is there… Is there something wrong, Brother?" the metal giant asked. 'So many things', Ed wanted to reply. But he couldn't, and there was no point anyway. He simply alternated staring at Mustang and Al, knowing he wouldn't see them until the next time he fell asleep. "You're acting strange."

"Get off his back, Alphonse," Mustang berated, straightening his sleeve casually, yet Ed thought he saw a little tremor run through his hand. "He's probably not fully awake right now. Give him a while."

"Good idea," Al said in disappointment. He sat back in the hospital chair, light reflecting from his body like… like the knife.

Instantly, Ed felt his stomach seize up in fear. It was starting. The dream had ended and the nightmare was making its debut. Though he had been expecting it, Edward trembled, dreading what lay in store. He couldn't look at the thing that formed a mockery of his brother, lest he be sick again. Lest he made Envy angry again.

His trembling increased to quakes, so hard that the thin sheet covering him began to flutter as if in a weak breeze. He closed his eyes tight, fighting the waves of nausea and struggling to keep his breathing steady. It was a battle he was destined to lose.

Edward gagged, tiny tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. His teeth were clenched together so hard he felt they might break, shatter, with a loud crunch, like a mouthful of brittle chicken bones. But the burning had reached his chest, his stomach was in turmoil, and he could already taste it.

All that came up was water. Ed didn't look, but the liquid spilt from his mouth and seared the skin of his chest. It was hot, and it smelt, and it was everywhere. Envy was going to be so mad. He wouldn't be allowed water for several more weeks.

His head landed on the pillows with a thump and a groan. Ed reached up to wipe his face, only to realise that his right arm was missing. Great. Perfect. Even in a dream, he had the worst luck.

Distantly, he heard Roy say, "I'll find a nurse."

"Okay," Al replied. Unlike the colonel, he had the advantage of not being able to smell. "Should I get him up?"

"That might be a good idea."

A few seconds later, cold metal touched his back—the knife—and he was forced into an upright position. It was starting. Oh, God, it was starting. And he wasn't even awake yet! What did he do? Why did he have to be caught by the deranged killer? Was it because of what he did to Alphonse? It was, wasn't it! But it still wasn't right—he still didn't deserve it—he wanted it to end—he wanted it all to end—for good…

Ed gave a small yelp and recoiled from the blade, and for a moment he was flying. But then the ground rose up to meet him. He'd never really noticed how hard it was, before.

"Brother!"

And the knife was back again, hovering in front of him, a big silver blur. He wanted to scream, to yell, to fight, but even falling off of the table was a contradiction of the rules. He didn't particularly want to be punished very badly—or at all—but that wish was much too optimistic.

"Brother, just calm down."

The last remnants of the dream clung on to Ed, causing him to hear Al's voice in place of Envy's, and calming words instead of threats and compromises. A heavy hand landed on his leg and Ed let out a small cry, trying his best to crawl away using only one arm. He was going to be in so much trouble…

And then his head hit something hard. Not a wall, since it shifted when he knocked into it. Objects tipped from the top of what Ed understood to be a bedside table, toppling to the ground. Some things landed on him: a plastic cup, tiny clock, a notebook, and a pencil. His vision was coming back as panic subsided. If he was dreaming, then all he had to do was wake up. The notebook and pencil… if he could somehow tell his dream what was going on, it might release him.

Al's grip on his ankle loosened, and he asked in a curious tone, "What are you doing?"

Ed ignored him. Had it always been so hard to write? He only needed one sentence, but it was taking forever to move the pencil! The letters, when he made some, were shaky and erratic. Words were formed of several clusters of those unsightly scratchings, ugly and undignified. Like something else Ed chose not to think about.

'I need to wake up now', it read, sloping drunkenly down the page. Edward offered it up serenely, though his heart pounded. He needed to go, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. He didn't really want to return to reality. As Al deciphered the scribbled message, Ed stared at the green linoleum floor and waited for it to darken to a blood red. It never happened.

Al placed the note on the ground. "Do you really… I mean… you are awake, Brother."

Ed blinked at him, unsure. The tiniest flicker of hope lit up his chest, expanding it with a warm glow until he felt he could breathe again. But the ice-cold water of common sense doused the flame before it could become a fire—he knew better than anyone that the higher you go, the further there is to fall. He'd done enough of the falling.

Two new pairs of feet entered the room: Mustang, with his polished boots clacking on the floor, and a nurse wearing soft-heeled shoes. The boots stopped as he regarded how the situation had changed. Ed would have been embarrassed by his earlier behaviour, if he didn't feel like he'd be sick again. The possibility that he really was in the military hospital was growing more likely by the minute.

Roy made a quiet noise in the back of his throat, which Ed would later recognise as stifled laughter. "Did something happen while I was gone? Alphonse?"

Ed noticed Al hiding the paper from view before he started to protest, "No, Colonel! Nothing, really! Brother just fell out of bed, and I was going to move him… somewhere."

"Please do it quickly," the nurse requested. She was young, with black hair tied into a tight bun. It was so strong that her face appeared to be pulled back with it, but her brown eyes sparkled with kindness despite her stern hairdo. "We need to strip the bed."

"Of course." Alphonse rushed forward and pulled Ed up. Ed's leg shook until his weight left it and his head landed on Al's shoulder with a hollow clank. He barely felt it. Roy shot his little brother a worried glance, obviously not liking that sound.

"Colonel Mustang," the nurse said, struggling to untuck the nearest corner. "Could you please move away from the door? Alphonse, just put Major Elric in that chair."

"He looks like he's gonna be sick again," the colonel remarked as he did what she requested. Edward couldn't protest. Ignoring his sudden inability to talk, the quick trip from Al's arms to the chair left him rather nauseous. "Are there any… buckets or something?"

The nurse glanced up and smiled. Half of the bed was bare, one side folded over the other in the same way that Mother used to wrap Ed's sandwiches. "Ask Theresa," she proposed, "at this floor's main desk. I'm sorry, I would get it for you, but…"

"It's no problem." Mustang coughed slightly, noticeably trying not to breathe through his nose. His voice sounded stuffy and congested, as if he had a cold. "Really."

"We'll have to tell Granny and Winry you're awake," Al chuckled once Roy was out. "They were here this morning, but you weren't responding. Winry was pretty upset."

Edward slouched in the hospital seat, back protesting the hard surface and strange position. The notebook and pencil lay loosely in his left hand, threatening to drop at any second. At his side, Alphonse squatted down so they were at the same height. His concerned red gaze never left Ed's face, but Ed didn't mind. Finally, he was convinced. They had found him. They had found him, and rescued him, and brought him back to hospital.

But the damage was already done. Nothing could change that.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall…

He had been alone for so long, with only Envy and his sharpened kitchen knife for company, and just the thought of food—not freedom, he knew not to expect that much—keeping him tethered to what little sanity remained. He was the Fullmetal alchemist. A boy. A soldier. A monster. A toy.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall…

He was barely more than a source of amusement inside the walls of 32 Seaview Road, and nothing more than an invalid outside them. There was no middle ground. Nowhere to be happy. So what was the point? Captive or free, it didn't matter. He was too damaged.

All the king's horses and all the king's men…

But who cared about all that? Who would ever stress the safety of a freak that couldn't die? Because there'd be no point in doing that—he would just jump up again and again and again and again… until he finally realised that he was better off cowering on the bloodstained ground.

Couldn't put Humpty together again.

"Brother?"

Edward flinched, being pulled out of his thoughts rather abruptly. He turned towards Alphonse, hoping his expression wasn't too horrific. His mind certainly was.

"You were humming something."

The bed was completely empty. The naked mattress was plain, but Ed saw floral patterns nonetheless. He must have painted those flowers, because all their petals were crimson and brown, shaped in crude thumbprints like a child's finger painting. Ed had placed flowers just like those on the mattress in Colt's house.

"Brother, you need to talk."

Ed's lips tightened in displeasure and he shook his head violently at the bed. His fringe lay limp and dirty across his eyes, its golden colour drained of life and lustre.

XxX

"I mean it." Alphonse straightened his knees, looking down at his older brother in an attempt to be intimidating. Ed was acting like a child, and even though guilt promised to eat him alive, Al needed his brother to be… normal again. Hell, it was only one week! While Al wasn't so naïve as to assume that it was enjoyable for Ed, the reaction was unjustifiable. No cuts, no bruises, no wounds of any kind. There had been a mild case of dehydration and starvation—and hygiene had been completely neglected!—but… Edward was different. His eyes were shadowed and guarded, filled with accusation.

Why did you let me get taken? they asked, and there was no answer. So it was Alphonse's job to make sure Ed healed properly.

"Why won't you talk me?" he asked. Ed was never a morning person, but it was late afternoon! Even if he had just woken up, it was about time he spoke. That stupid message he wrote just wouldn't cut it.

"Edward! Brother!" Was Ed angry with him? Did he hate him because it took Al a whole week and most of the military to find what Ed had uncovered in less than a day? And…

How had Ed done that?

"Fine, then!"

Ed made a tiny noise of panic as Al grabbed his wrist, pushing the notebook more firmly into his palm. He almost pitched off the chair, his automail port making a dent and scratching the metal frame. It rang hollowly for several more seconds, during which Al forced his brother's hand to hold the pencil as well.

"Write it down," he demanded, then jolted backwards at the wet gaze Ed threw him. "I-I mean, please write why you won't talk to me."

Edward sniffled a little as he balanced the notebook on his thigh, making Al feel horrible. He hardly ever caused his brother to cry—Ed was too strong for that! Not for the first time, Al decided that something was definitely wrong.

And when the word was scribed, he knew it beyond a doubt.

'Can't'.

The nurse entered the room, arms laden with new sheets, but Al barely noticed. Ed couldn't talk? At all? For a moment Al wondered if it was his fault, if his frustration had somehow muted Ed, but the pencil was starting to speed up, spelling out new messages in wobbly letters.

'Thirsty', was the first one. Then, after a conflicted pause, lead touched paper once again.

'Scared.'

Hope you liked :) Next chapter'll be up 1st of May

Also, I'm thinking about expanding that Fullmetal Alchemist one-shot I wrote a few weeks ago. Please tell me if you think I should :)