Resolve
The pain is agonizing, nearly numbing out the awful feeling of blood leaving his body, but Ed refuses to let himself pass out. Passing out meant death. Sure, death would hurt less than a pipe through his hip, but he wasn't really in the mood, to say the very least of his situation.
He can feel every grain of sand against the side of his face, and the burn of cold air on the other side. His mind wanders to the throbbing mass of pain between his hipbone and his stomach, and he suddenly has the overwhelming urge to vomit.
Alright, best to not think about that part of his situation.
Ed shuts his eyes, focusing on the slow, shallow breaths he'd fallen into a rhythm of taking. Winry would hate him if he died. She had made it through discovering she was a hostage. She had made it through facing her parent's murderer. She had made the decision to travel with Scar when he couldn't even fathom the thought.
Winry had always stuck around and made time for him when he couldn't even remember to call.
The least he could do now was stay alive.
Mustering his resolve, Ed makes himself start small and tries to twitch his fingers. He had to move. If he laid here until he exhausted himself, he'd never get up. Forcing his fist into the dirt, he pulls his upper body off the floor of the mine shaft, faltering when his body reacts in protest.
"I won't make her cry, especially not over something this stupid."