This will never get posted if I wait until it edits right - so please bear with this chapter so we can get on to the next one!
Chapter 21
"Edward," Doctor Gansworth said. "I'd like you to settle down now. I've just come by to check on you."
Ed did a double-take that jerked him out of his angry accusation in mid-rant; he shivered hard before drawing back to watch the tall, thin figure approach. The doctor didn't look right, and he wasn't sure why. He crossed his arms over his bare midsection protectively, suddenly regretting his outburst at the Major.
His level of alert doubled when they were nearing arm's length. This didn't look like Dr. Gansworth, he looked younger, and softer, and Ed began scoot back and away from him, looking for an escape route. He no longer wanted to let the Major out of reach. In fact, he reached back and grabbed for him blindly, never letting the doctor out of his sight.
Gansworth stopped approaching, gearing his own behavior to try and control the interaction.
"Edward? Look at me, son. You know me. Think about it for a minute." He reached out slowly, palm up, and waited. "Do you want to take my hand?"
Amber eyes traveled past the outstretched hand and up the bare arm. There was a patch of red on the inside of the forearm, like a birthmark, and Ed slowly put together that he had never seen it before, because it was always covered by the starched white sleeves of a coat. It clicked then, what was wrong with this picture.
The man was wearing casual clothes; khaki pants and a soft, cocoa-colored shirt with short sleeves. It made him look younger and less severe, more approachable. That was the difference.
Ed reached out hesitantly and drew the hand to his face, testing. There was no foul odor, just the lightly medicinal scent left from repeated washing with hospital soap.
"Is that a little better?" Gansworth asked, bending down slightly so he wouldn't be towering over his patient. He drew the bedside chair away from the wall until it faced the bed. "I'd like to spend some time finding out how you're feeling. Mind if I sit?"
Ed let go of his hand sheepishly. The doctor sat and motioned to the Major.
"Don't stop on my account. I suspect you'd like to finish getting dressed, wouldn't you, Edward?" Gansworth selectively ignored the fact that Ed had been telling off Armstrong before he interrupted; he would have to talk to the Major about it later, though, to reassure him that it was actually a good sign. The fact that Ed was secure enough in the huge man's behavior to yell at him without fear was a positive indicator of trust on the most basic level, regardless of whatever issue had set him off. For now, the wind had clearly gone out of Ed's sails as far as his anger went and he was clinging to the giant alchemist once again.
The automail arm was still raised, guarding his torso; Gansworth watched him closely as the Major held up the institutional garment to pull it down over his head. Ed left the automail protectively in place until the cloth covered most of his middle, then darted the metal arm quickly into the sleeve. The other side was open at the seam, to allow it to be slipped on without interfering with the I.V.; once it was draped properly, the Major carefully tied it on.
Ed kept the doctor in his wary gaze. When Armstrong finished dressing him and started to step away, Ed caught his sleeve again and stopped him.
"The Major can stay if you like," Gansworth offered. "And if he doesn't mind."
"Of course I don't mind, as long as it's all right with Edward. I'd be happy to stay."
"Were you…were you going home?" Ed asked, his voice so soft it was difficult to understand. He was focusing on questioning the doctor; since he didn't release his hold, the Major took that as a request to stay close.
"No. I came to see you. Can you tell me why you're asking?" Gansworth asked with a tone quieted to match his patient's.
Ed pondered his answer and then took a few moments to gather up his composure to deliver it.
"Because you're out of uniform."
Gansworth nodded and smiled disarmingly, pleased at Ed's ability to notice and form a logical, if not correct, interpretation of the change in his appearance.
"Ah. Yes, I suppose I am from your point of view. I've simply taken off my doctor's coat, that's all. I don't really need it on right now. I don't think I need to worry about getting anything on my clothes from just talking to you." More importantly, he had removed it because the white coat was a symbol of his status and authority, and it would set the wrong tone for their interaction. For this, he wanted to be seen as a benevolent, non-judgmental and supportive friend.
"Oh." Ed was getting a little self-conscious holding onto the Major, but he really didn't want him to go.
"Well, then. I just wanted to ask a few questions to find out how you're doing. I guess the obvious one is, how are you feeling today?"
Ed shrugged and started to turn his attention back to Armstrong; Gansworth recognized that he was trying to get some distance from the situation. He decided to try being slightly less direct.
"Your recovery from the shoulder wound is going well now. We have the opportunity to allow you to leave a bit early. Is that something that interests you, Edward? Would you like to get out of the hospital sooner?"
A little suspicious, Ed nodded.
"Good. Good. I wanted to be sure that we were doing something you agreed with. You have a place you'd like to return to, is that correct?"
Ed nodded again.
"Who do you stay with?"
Ed didn't answer, so the doctor prompted him once more. It would be helpful to know the young man's perceptions, to see how well they aligned with the facts of the situation.
"It's important that you try and answer my questions, Edward, so that I can have the information I need to process your release. All right? I need to know who you think you'll be staying with."
"Well…" Ed tugged on the Major, who had been patiently waiting. "Him."
"I see. And is the Major your guardian?"
Ed shook his head, casting his eyes down. "The Colonel is."
"Ah. That's right. You've been the Colonel's dependent for some time now. Since he brought you to the hospital, way back when you were first injured, and they needed someone to make decisions for you."
Ed shocked at the brief flash of memory that the connection to that statement provoked in his head. The knowledge fled from his consciousness just as quickly, leaving him dazed but at a loss to explain it.
"First injured…" he breathed, talking to himself. He released his hold on Armstrong to cross his arms over his stomach and rock forward worriedly.
"Do you remember that, Edward?"
The room was very quiet; the muffled squeak of wheels from a cart passing in the hallway came and went. There was no reply.
"Edward, I'm not asking you to tell me what you recall. I'm certain that it would be hard to verbalize, and unless you would like to talk about it, I think that's a little too much to start off with. Okay? So, please - I'm just asking if you do remember."
Ed took a deep breath, then another. It took quite a bit of effort to overcome the instinct to clam up, even though this wasn't an interrogation and he didn't sense any malice.
"N-no. I mean, sometimes I might. But not really."
"You have some difficulty remembering. How do you feel about that?" It was hard to tell if Edward was being honest. Whether or not he consciously remembered, his behavior clearly revealed that the question had stirred up some unpleasantness.
"Feel?" Ed looked at his mismatched hands. "I can't…feel about it. I don't know."
"You're not feeling anything right now?"
Ed frowned absently in thought. "No, that's wrong. There's a lot."
"There are a lot of things going on inside of you right now, is that what you're saying? Can you describe those emotions for me?"
"Oh…that…that would be hard." He reached for the Major again until his fingertips found the reassuring heavy cloth.
"Yes, Edward, I can understand how hard it must be for you to put into words how you might be feeling. But I don't want to guess. So just try, okay? Start out slow."
He sighed heavily and twisted the Major's coat in his hands. Thinking was slow and heavy going today, and all this talk was such an effort. He would be really angry with himself if he had to stay here longer because he hadn't answered the doctor's questions properly. His emotional state was more of a mess when he tried to focus on it clearly, but he pushed himself to cooperate.
"I feel kinda…worried maybe. And tired."
"I see. Anything else?"
"Um, well, uncomfortable, and …sort of…down. But not sorry for myself. Just…sorry for everything, you know? Maybe sometimes just a little scared. But not now! Only when there's something to be scared about."
Gansworth nodded. Ed was being remarkably candid, even if he was trying to downplay some aspects. He was clearly very nervous and at least somewhat afraid.
"Okay, that's a good start! That's very good, Edward. I know how hard it can be sort through your thoughts. So you said you were worried. Let's take a look at that, shall we? Can you tell me what your worries are right now?"
"I need the Major to stay and I think he's going to leave," Ed shot back. He met Armstrong's surprised look with a blush. "I mean, he's supposed to stay. I shouldn't have yelled at him. I mean…"
"I'll stay as long as you need me," Armstrong rumbled, using the arm not seized by Ed's nervous grip to pat the soft blond hair. He'd have to talk to Gansworth later and explain that this was just Ed's way, ever since he began staying with them here. He needed to touch them or their clothes, to physically hold on to the people he relied on. It would serve as a warning, too, because when Ed needed to grab you, he wasn't always in complete control, and things spilled, tipped over or fell now and then as a result.
"Don't listen to me if I tell you to go!" The pale face was distraught with the knowledge that he couldn't always trust himself.
"I can handle it when you have to blow off a little steam. I wasn't going to leave you alone, even if you insisted," Armstrong assured.
"Is that the concern, Edward? Are you worried about being alone?" Gansworth prodded. He saw the physical reaction to his words and stopped. He had hit a major nerve.
Ed went stiff under the Major's hand, breathing hard, lost between grabbing for support and balling up tight. The world shifted around him, driven by the sustained exposure to his own feelings as his focus was forced to rest on just one of his countless current issues.
"Lost. All alone," he gasped, then shook his head hard as if to take it back.
'No, you won't be alone. I said I'd stay," the Major began helpfully.
"Wait a moment, Major," hushed the doctor, leaning a little closer to take in every facial movement and nuance of voice. "Go on, Edward."
It took a few moments before Ed looked up, still distressed, a light blush on his cheeks.
Embarrassed at his sudden, uncontrolled gush of insecurity, Gansworth interpreted.
"No, that's…so selfish. You're all helping me, but it's Al that's alone. Al…"
"You think that if your brother is alone, it's not okay for you to say that you feel alone as well? Even if that's the way you feel?"
"It's because we…I mean he…he's the one who's lost. I lost him. It's what I did to him. But we're here."
"We're here, as you say. Here. We. So - do you still think you're lost now? And alone? "
It sounded kind of stupid when the doctor put it that way. The edge of panic softened a little.
"Well…it's…it's wrong, see, I'm wrong. And I'm getting all this attention and it's not me that needs help but Al, and I'm just being weird and not …not…just…but there, just then, it was all like something was happening."
"You know, I can tell by looking at you when you're experiencing something disturbing. Did you realize that? It might help if we talk about how that feels, and if you would like to have one of us try some things that might help you cope with it when it happens."
"It feels like everything, even when it's just for a second, then after, it's nothing, but it doesn't help. When it happens again it's still everything and I forget its not."
Gansworth took a deep breath, getting into the flow of Ed's awkward attempt to explain. Ed had nearly come full circle, calmed down to the more moderate, nervous state they had started in.
"You can't see this experience objectively until afterward. Is that what you're saying?"
Ed nodded.
"And while you are immersed in it? Is it the same experience every time?"
"No. But it's always something bad."
"Do you know when it's going to happen?"
Ed shook his head, but slowly, and his eyes narrowed. "It's a thought." His voice was quiet again, his attention turned inward.
"Don't lose that…I think you may have come up with something. Explain that a little more."
"There's a thought - like just then - but it gets big, like a giant, like a monster, in just a flash. And then it sucks up the world, and my heart and throat almost come out through my mouth, and you can't breathe from that smell. It presses everywhere, it smashes so hard it hurts."
"I'm trying to understand, so please be patient with me. Can you describe the thought and what it did here a few minutes ago? Go slowly for me, all right?"
Ed's fists clenched, and he closed his eyes hard. "The thought was…it was…about losing everything again and again. Then it…made me lost and it was taking me away. And - blip! - I was in it and this all was falling apart. But then it didn't go all the way like it does. It got interrupted."
"Yes, that's good, you're really remembering well, and that can be hard when things are disturbing. You've told me what happened - how did it feel?"
Ed's hands wandered to his mouth and covered it. Gansworth took in that revealing display of body language and pried gently.
"Maybe just a word or two to describe it. If it's too hard, we can come back to this another time."
Ed grimaced. He thought of an avalanche of words to describe it all at once. It felt like the shock of stumbling off a cliff at a fatal height, like plunging unavoidably into the cold and lonely death he'd earned as a failure and an unworthy soul. A damning knowledge had been thrust into his core, and if he accepted it as fact, it meant the end of all things. It wasn't new. This was the most common theme of the panic attack, or mental aberration, or schizophrenic event - whatever the hell it was - and it never seemed to wane in power despite his growing familiarity with it. It usually lasted longer, and he was mildly grateful that their intervention had cut it short this time. But because he had been through it so often, he was starting to hate himself for believing it was real and being so completely immersed in it every time.
He was disappointed in the way he was still reacting so strongly. His heart was just now settling down to a reasonable thunder. He was still deeply discouraged that they had stopped him from trading his life for Al's; this pants-pissing fear of imaginary death made that seem like a lie.
He didn't want to revisit that awful feeling, and he didn't want to say things that trivialized his willingness to sacrifice himself if need be.
He just couldn't figure out what to do next to make them leave it alone.
"Edward?" Dr. Gansworth tapped the Major's shoulder and motioned with his chin to let him know he could resume talking to Ed. It was evident that the young man was getting withdrawn. "You don't have to answer that now. Are you listening?"
A few more beats of silence, and Armstrong gently grasped Ed's upper arm.
"The doctor asked you a pretty simple question, lad. He just wants to know if you're listening."
Ed nodded reluctantly and rubbed his face.
"Let's step back; you wanted the Major to stay, and he agreed." Gansworth didn't think that had been the trigger for the small traumatic episode. He was aiming for the last point in time before the problem started.
Ed nodded again. They seemed to be heading away from that sore subject, and he wanted to encourage that.
"Do you still want him to stay?" Gansworth asked. It appeared that one of his first goals had already been met - he had singled out something that consistently had value to Ed, something he could use as a reward. The Major's presence was powerful leverage.
"I'm right here, if that's all right. But if you prefer that I leave…" Armstrong offered.
Ed's head finally came up at that, along with the automail hand to securely snag a fistful of blue coat again.
"I'd like you to tell us in words if you want him to stay. I just want to make sure that we're understanding you."
"Major," he said, hesitant and pleading. "Don't leave. Stay."
"It's all right, it wasn't that I needed to go."
"I see. It's fine, Edward," Gansworth said. "Especially if it helps you to feel a little more comfortable. Try to relax, we're just having a nice, informal chat here. Does it make you feel better when he's here?"
"Uh-huh. He makes people behave."
"Does he really?"
"Especially the Colonel."
"The Colonel doesn't always behave as he should?"
Ed's look turned guilty, and it took a few seconds before he replied. "I shouldn't say that. The Major says it's not true."
"Ah, but we're talking about feelings and perceptions right now, Edward. And your feelings exist, so telling me about them is not wrong, regardless of whether you have your facts straight. I won't judge them as true or false. Even if you fear something that is non-existent, it is still true that you feel that fear. So please. I'm sure the Major would agree, it's important to hear how you feel about this."
Armstrong nodded encouragingly.
Ed cleared his throat and made a false start before finally taking a deep breath and making his reply.
"He hurts me when no one sees. He does! He can be mean. I always knew he was kind of like that. When Al and I…" Ed's throat tightened and he had to pause a moment from the impact of saying his brother's name. "when we'd go on assignment and come back, he was always rude and calling me names and chewing me out. Sometimes I was supposed to report in and I wouldn't, just so I didn't have to hear it."
"So…you dislike the Colonel?"
Ed frowned and tipped his head down abruptly, hiding his face.
"I told you he hurts me."
"Are you afraid of him?"
"He took me out and left me and hurt my shoulder, did he tell you that? That's how it happened. It was him. He did it."
"Really? So then, I can easily see how you might feel that you have reason to fear him. Do you?"
"He stopped me from bringing back Al. He twisted my arm. He makes fun of me. He stopped coming to see me."
The doctor nodded, waiting a few beats to make sure that Ed was finished.
"That's been hard on you, hasn't it? You're still not telling me how you feel about it, though. Try this for me. Take a moment and picture Colonel Mustang in your mind's eye, can you do that for me? Get a good look at him, use your imagination. Got him? Tell me when you can see him clearly."
After a few minutes with his eyes closed, Ed nodded, his face still hidden.
"So, what is he doing?"
"Sitting here in the chair. He used to come sit with me sometimes."
"Was that hard for you, having him so close?"
"No. He was being good then. He was helping me."
"Did you like having him there, then?"
Ed nodded.
"Are you afraid of him now, Ed? Be honest."
"Well…when I first see him, yeah…but I don't know… because it would be worse if he left. If I didn't see him again. That would be worse. But its hard to see him now because I know he wants to hurt me. I don't know what I did wrong to deserve it. I guess he really doesn't like me. Or something."
"That sounds painful."
"I guess it kind of hurts a little."
"You seem to care about his opinion of you."
"I can't help it. He's my superior."
"So he has great influence over you. But you aren't sure that he will use that influence to benefit you. Is that what I'm hearing?"
Ed shook his head. "Just stop talking about it. Leave it alone." He pulled harder on Armstrong, making him sit on the edge of the bed. The Major was the only company he wanted right now, and his patience with the constant prying was spent.
"Maybe we could do something about your situation."
"No! Don't be doing anything. I don't get this thing you're doing. No one did it before."
"Are you referring to our talk right now? You weren't well enough for this kind of help before."
"This is help?"
"It can be. It's meant to be helpful. You might not see it at first, because it takes time, and you have to get used to the idea of talking about difficult things before we can really make some headway. But if we stay with it, you'll find that out. We're just making a first scratch on the surface. The things that truly help usually run much deeper."
"If you say so." The tension had taken its toll. Ed had shifted again, and now he was half in the Major's lap, starting to rub an eye and looking wilted. "Can't you make him stop?"
Armstrong moved to support him more comfortably. "You can tell him yourself if you'd like to end the session."
"No more," Ed blurted wearily.
"That's fine. You did very well, Edward. I feel like you were being honest with me, and that's all I ask." Dr. Gansworth stood and held out a hand benignly. Ed touched it in a glancing near-handshake and turned away, burying his face in the Major's chest and covering his ears with both hands.
"Looks like we're done here," the doctor said. "I want you to give this some thought if you can, Edward. We'll be talking like this again. Think about what you might like to say next time, hm? Any subject you'd like to talk about. Anything you've got on your mind." He gave Ed a pat on the shoulder.
"You might want to repeat that for me when he's back in the mood to listen," Gansworth smiled at Armstrong, pausing in the doorway before heading out. "Thank you for staying, Major."
"Please, Doctor, don't hesitate to ask me again if there's any way that I can be of service. Just say the word."
He wrapped a large arm around Ed and settled in to wait patiently now that they were alone again.
Just when he was beginning to think that Ed had fallen asleep, a quiet voice mumbled into his chest.
"What will he do now?"
"I expect he'll come back and talk with you again. I'm not certain when. Surely, not today."
"No." Ed pulled back a little, to be more easily heard. "What will he do?"
"Do?"
"He won't go to the Colonel, will he? Or get him in trouble? Or make him not be my guardian anymore?"
"Nothing like that. He's a doctor, so he's bound by his oath to keep your confidence. Unless he felt that the Colonel was an unfit guardian, or was endangering you somehow, he won't do anything."
"But what I said! I shouldn't have said it. He might!"
"Calm down now. Your version of the incident that caused you injury is no secret - if it was cause to challenge guardianship, it would have been done already."
"But if he tells the Colonel what I said, he might think I'm too much trouble!"
"I doubt that he'll tell the Colonel anything that you said. Maybe you're misunderstanding what the doctor was trying to do. This is a form of therapy - like physical therapy, you remember some of that, don't you? Only this is for your psychological recovery."
That silenced Ed. Crazy, of course they still thought he was crazy, and he'd just attempted to trade his life for Al's. Doctors think they're the only ones allowed to choose between lives, he mused darkly. They tended to lock up anyone else that tried to make that determination. It wasn't fair, he was doing the best he could to make things right; did they have any idea how hard he was trying?
"Are they thinking about sending me away?" Ed asked tersely. "Back to wherever I was locked up?"
"No. It's just another way to help you."
"You'd tell me the truth, right?" Ed didn't like the twinge of distrust in he suddenly felt for Armstrong again. He had to believe in somebody, he couldn't be sure about Mustang, and Havoc didn't seem to want be around him very long anymore. If the Major turned out to be deceitful, there wouldn't be any straws left to grasp.
"Ed. It's for your benefit. I would not sit here and support the effort if it was not. I am telling you the truth."
The last of Ed's endurance gave out and he collapsed back; a strong supporting arm caught him securely.
Ed was still gazing at the closed door; he'd raised his arm to point at it unsteadily, repeating himself in a tired, dry plea, giving it the sound of a dying wish. "Don't do anything. Don't do anything!"
Armstrong had no difficulty understanding that the words weren't meant for him.
"He won't, Ed. Let me handle it, okay? Just try to relax and get some rest. You're still not well." He reached up and gently pushed Ed's arm down, rubbing it to relax the tight muscles.
Ed quieted at that, and let the larger man shift him back over on the bed to make him more comfortable. Exhausted from the strain, he retreated into fretful sleep.
xxxxxxx
Al crept behind Havoc uncertainly, looking in every doorway, even though the fact that the tall Second Lieutenant had passed those doors without stopping meant they had yet to reach his new quarters.
But he peered into them nervously anyway. They were all unoccupied so far; but his sixth sense was not so convinced. A dank wave of negative energy seemed to hover inside each opening.
"Ed's not here."
"I know."
"So what are you looking for?"
"Just looking." He wasn't sure himself why he felt compelled to do a visual search of every room as they passed, but the urge was irresistible. He did know that he wasn't searching for Ed, despite Havoc's assumption. The feeling was different; he was cautious, wary. They had turned down a dimly lit hallway lined with a half-dozen identical doors. It didn't look like there had been a lot of activity here recently.
"Down here. It's all right, Al. Just come on." Havoc worked one of the latches with a key, and Al balked at the doorway. There was a lock on the outside of the door , a narrow, horizontal hatch about the right size to pass a tray through, and a small observation window with a cross-hatch of bars and no glass.
It was clearly a prisoner's cell.
Al started to back away, and Havoc followed, letting go of the door and taking Al's arm.
"Don't lock me up! What did I do? You can't!" Al started to push away; the thought of being enclosed in such a place without a way out was unbearable.
"Al, wait. You won't be locked up. Hey, we'll even take the door off if you want. Okay?"
Al had already begun to breathe heavily, and he shook as he tried to compose himself again.
"These detention rooms are empty right now. They're the most logical place for you to stay; they're the closest thing to living quarters we have available in the secure part of this building. It makes sense, it's set up for sleeping and it'll be easy for us to keep you safe. And it's only for a little while. We're working on something better. You understand? We can't put you back in the old barracks, Al, not after what happened. You'll be much safer here."
Al's head began to clear of the blinding panic, and he caught his breath enough to speak.
"No lock. No lock!"
Havoc nodded and tentatively released his hold. When Al didn't try to flee, he stepped back in reach of the door.
"Of course. I'll disable the lock now. Look, see the bolt? If I drop the pin this way, it prevents it from engaging. We had too many guards accidentally lock themselves in before we switched to these. Embarrassing."
Al nervously gripped his elbows.
"The door can stay open if you're still worried, there's a catch on the wall to hold it. See here?" Havoc pushed the door all the way open and engaged the mechanism to demonstrate, never taking his eyes off Al.
Al rubbed his forehead furiously, trying to settle himself down, and struggling to decide if he should be cooperating or fighting this.
"If that's not good enough, I'll have someone remove the door. You just need to trust me a little longer, Al. Don't blow it when you're this close to seeing your brother again."
That statement hit home, and Al firmed his lower lip. "I'm trying."
"I'm sorry. We should have talked this over before we got here. I got held up with something else; I had planned to sit down and give you an idea of what's happening before we left the infirmary." But Havoc had been delayed again by Ed's attempts to make him stay. Well, another benefit to having the Elrics together - Havoc wouldn't keep being pulled in two directions at once anymore.
Sweat prickled the back of Al's neck as he stepped in. He put a hand on the door jamb to confirm that the door couldn't possibly close while he surveyed the room. It was very small and stark; it looked exactly like what it was.
By comparison, the barracks had been luxurious. It felt like being sent to jail, no matter what Havoc said. But a part of him felt resigned to it; he had been getting away with murder because he hadn't been punished yet for his abuses to Edward. This would count towards that, whether they intended it in that way or not. He would be a man and bear it for the sake of reuniting with Ed, and he would do it as a bit of voluntary penance as well. He had no real right to complain.
"Easy, Al. Go slow. It's all strange to you here; give yourself a chance to acclimate."
They had wedged a bedside table, a wooden chair, and a small, battered cabinet with doors into the compact space to give him a place to put his clothes. Havoc opened the cabinet and showed him the few items of clothing, and the book and clipboard he'd left at the barracks when they whisked him away after the rat attack. The handful of donated items seemed to be complete; indeed, it was every item he now had to his name in the world.
That sobering thought was pushed aside as he took his hand off Havoc and looked him in the eye instead.
"Thank you. I'm sorry to be so much trouble."
"I should have warned you. Don't give it another thought. Now, let's go do something besides sit around for a little while, hm? There's an unofficial rec room down here, I'll show you the way. Nothing fancy, that's for sure, but there's stuff to do."
Al followed, curiosity piqued.
"Pay attention to the layout here; get familiar with where we're at."
They came to a set of double doors, and Havoc swung them open with a flourish.
"Here it is! This has evolved over time, guys just bringing stuff they find and whatever. They let us have a decent sized room, at least." It was a very large room; they weaved their way past the mismatched tables and chairs dotting the area. Al browsed the sizable stack of well-worn board game boxes cubbied on the near wall with a nod at the familiar titles. His gaze skipped over the old pinball machine and homemade skeeball alley to rest on the dartboard that hung across from the pool table in the far corner.
Al went straight for the darts. When he was little, it was something he enjoyed playing with Ed - it was one of the rare things they continued to play at all through Ed's rehabilitation into the automail, because even with one arm and in a wheelchair, Ed had a deadly eye and excellent aim. Al's accuracy had been reduced when he ended up in the armor; so it was something they were able to compete at honestly without holding back for the other's sake.
The memory made him smile. Ed would win most of the time playing lefty, preferring his natural arm even after getting the automail, but not always. It made for some of the few moments when they would set aside their surreal circumstances and just be brothers at play.
They probably wouldn't let Ed have anything as dangerous as a dart right now, though, and Al's smile disappeared. If they really knew how he was, they probably wouldn't let him handle darts either.
"You good at this?" Havoc asked, picking up the red set. "Because, if you're not, I will kick your ass. Dart-wise, that is."
"Oh-ho," Al snorted. "I haven't got a clue how I am at this now. But I used to be pretty darn good."
"So? You'll never know until you try. Bring it."
The first few games went to Havoc as Al's control was erratic; but he got better and better as the games progressed , and eventually gave the older man some serious competition. They moved on to play pool, and Havoc noted with satisfaction that Al seemed to be getting comfortable in the new surroundings, and with his company. It was a good thing that they had done this early in the day, giving them the whole place to themselves. It just made things less complicated.
Al was going to be deadly at pool once his muscles returned to full obedience. His powers of concentration were evident as he clearly calculated each shot in his head before choosing his position and angle. He hit perfect shots salted with wild misses, with little in between.
"Let's see what you can do with this."
Al looked up and managed to bat away the orange ball before it connected with his face.
"What the…"
"You were supposed to catch it. Look. Over there. " Havoc pointed as he plopped into a chair.
A basketball hoop had been affixed to one wall with an area cleared in front of it, although Al suspected that a missed ball had rudely interrupted a board game on more than one occasion.
Havoc watched while Al tried to work the basketball, noting that his balance and coordination were still a little erratic, that his basic muscle control wasn't always automatic either. He wore out quickly using his large muscle groups, and never really had any success at making a basket.
He sank into a chair near Havoc, wiping the sweat from his eyes. It was so strange and new, like he'd never done any of this before. His evil inner self was quiet for now. Doing things like this, things that normal people did, forced the wisps of dark and destructive presence into the far background. It was probably just waiting and watching for the right moment to emerge; he didn't get the sense that it had decided to leave him alone.
Havoc looked at him expectantly and waited.
"I guess I'm not all together yet," Al said grimly. "Sometimes it's like I forget how to move."
"You do pretty well with the finer muscle control."
"I have to really think about it, though. It's just that, it's a more concentrated area, so if something starts to work the wrong way, I can correct for it most of the time. With this, I'm trying to move around with my legs, used my head to look for the goal, and then used my hands and arms to control the ball…the impulses get all tangled up. I keep having to concentrate on not falling down. My legs are the worst."
"Is walking difficult?"
"I have to think about every step, but since it's repetitive, I kind of got used to it. It's like…if you had to go everywhere by walking a high wire. It takes a lot to do it; but if that's what you have to do to get around, that's what you do."
"Have you told the doctor about that?"
Al hesitated. He'd told the doctor a lot more than he should have. Yet he'd hidden his beastly urges, a sure indicator of guilt and wrongdoing. He looked up and met with the concern evident in Havoc's clear blue eyes. For the moment, he allowed his guard to drop and answered as honestly as he could,
"Well, sort of. He already thinks I'm crazy, what if he thinks this is just in my head? I…I guess I should admit to you…he knows a lot about what really happened to me. I know its supposed to be a secret…but he's a doctor, he's supposed to keep your secrets. And I don't think he believes me anyway, I think he just figures I'm nuts."
"Dr. Gansworth, right?"
Al nodded and wiped more sweat away, finally slowing his breathing to normal. The physical exertion had ended a little while ago, but its effect on his mental balance had not. He was still in good control of his thoughts. He didn't have any urge to escape, or feel the need to attack
"He's trustworthy, Al, that's the word I get. He's someone you should talk to. Especially if there's something you're uncomfortable talking to me about."
Al cricked his neck to one side. "Sore muscles are going to feel good for a change. It's been so long."
Havoc smiled. "Come on, let's get a change of clothes and I'll show you where you can shower up."
Al stood, slightly wobbly, a hand on the chair. Havoc took his arm then, and Al seemed to be fine with it.
"Can you at least give me an idea how long it will be?"
"Until you see Ed?" Al was already nodding before Havoc finished the sentence. "Not too much longer. Maybe a week from now, if everything goes well. Sound okay?"
"I've waited this long. I really do want to see him," Al said, the lack of conviction in his voice troubling even to himself. He couldn't help fretting over the possibilities.
"Well, yeah. Of course." Havoc though the statement odd; it sounded as if there had been some doubt in Al's mind about it. "I hope we didn't overdo it for your first day out. Can you walk all right?"
"I'll just need to go slow for a minute. Let's go."
Havoc's hold on his arm turned out to be needed support when they started out, heading back down the corridor for the detention cells.
xxxxxxx
"What do we know today? Any new reports?" Mustang paced restlessly back and forth in front of his seated subordinates, lips tight.
"Ingress and egress tight and right; all personnel passcodes verified and all non-military souls denied entrance. Deliveries are being taken at the main gate and no public vehicles were allowed in base. Perimeter guards report no activity, including confirmation that there were no unusual sightings of stray animals. It seems things are quiet for now, sir," Hawkeye concluded, flipping the papers back over on her clipboard.
"Word from the outpost is that things are quiet there as well; the Fuhrer's trip is nearly over; seems that he and Kimblee are finishing up their inspection at the Yellow Mesa depot. That was on their itinerary as the last stop. So if they are electing to come back by here, I would estimate they're out about two days travel." Fuery tapped his glasses higher on his nose and sat back down.
"Research on the intruder problem hasn't come up with much; but a suggestion was made that it might be useful to have a dog or two on duty to check out suspicious persons or articles, and help watch for animals. With thanks to the First Lieutenant for that," Falman nodded to Hawkeye, and she smiled briefly.
"Anything to get Hayate back in here, hm?" Mustang chided.
"He'd be good at it."
"Not a bad idea. I'd actually be interested to see what he thinks of Al's scent, considering where his body's been holed up until now. Bring him on in, Lieutenant. But as for a dog at the main gate, I don't think Hayate's our hound. Maybe one of the tracker's dogs. See what you can come up with there, Falman. Not a bad idea at all. Breda?"
"Personnel have been armed with upgraded weapons, and we've brought in a standing defense arsenal and secured it up in Charlie-Five. Grenade launcher, bazooka, flamethrower - with apologies to you sir, but you can't be everywhere at once. We laid in armor-piercing rounds and about twenty Tommy guns. If they want a stand-off here, they'd better have tanks. We're ready for anything."
"Good. Excellent. Major?"
"Pumping up the twenty-four hour watch on the boys. As you ordered, we've upgraded the assignment to a body watch, not a room watch. The boys are under full visual observation at all times."
"Perfect. Although, they might not take too kindly to it."
"Well, personal hygiene can be a touchy subject. We've compromised at leaving the door ajar. They both seem to be able to deal with that."
"Nicely done. Nothing from the patrols?"
"No, sir. All sweeps negative. They have seen the usual wildlife in the preserve. Not much to be done about that. We can't tackle and verify every coyote and hawk in the area."
"And re-checks of the target areas? Any signs of activity where we found Full- I mean, Ed, out in the preserve? Or where we unearthed Al?"
"Nothing. String-traps were undisturbed."
"Okay. This doesn't mean we can stand down from alert; quite the opposite. We need to be ready when they come back. And we know they will; their interest in Ed is still active; and they probably think they've gotten away without arousing suspicion. That's the only thing I don't like about stopping the deliveries at the gate; I think it may tip them off that we're aware. I'm debating whether to let that practice continue. For now, I'll let it stand. Just try to be as subtle as possible. Premise it on…let's say there's been a problem with theft on the base; that will be our explanation for the sudden passwording and the lockdown. Make that drug theft; that will further explain the extra security at the hospital and the main building, since we keep controlled substances in both." Mustang said, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
"And once we have both of our 'controlled substances' living here under one roof?"
"It should make it easier to keep up the 24-hour watch. And it will make them a bigger target; so it may work to draw out the enemy, perhaps make them a bit careless. We'll see. For now, things seem to be in order. Carry on, all of you, and barring any unusual events, we'll meet again next week, same time, same place. Major, be sure to update Second Lieutenant Havoc when you see him next. He's here in the building getting Alphonse settled in a room in Delta wing."
"Delta wing, sir?"
"Just for the time being; we're using it for spare accommodations. Not what you're thinking."
"Of course! Very good, sir."
They stood and saluted, and Mustang returned it grimly. Hawkeye noted the darkening circles under her superior's eye and his disappearing sense of humor. When the others left the room, she approached him, unsure if he would be receptive to her concern.
"Problem, Lieutenant?"
"Just checking on you, sir. You seem very tired. There aren't any pressing matters this afternoon. Perhaps it would help to take a rest in your office?"
Mustang looked at her wryly. "But I still have requisitions. A stack this high."
"You'll sign them later. You'll be more efficient if you're rested. Now, you'd be drooling on them and nodding off every time you turn the page."
"I think you just talked me into it. What with…"
The door opened again, and a young soldier stuck his head in the door.
"Colonel Mustang, sir? You're wanted at the infirmary."
"Be right there." Mustang straightened his jacket and started for the door. "Cover my calls from your station, Lieutenant."
"Yes, sir," Hawkeye sighed, saluting his back before heading off to her desk to ride out the long afternoon.
xxxxxxxxx
"We can release on the following conditions," Dr. Gansworth said, presenting his carefully scribbled list to the Colonel.
Mustang stared for a moment, brows knitting. The doctor took the list back.
"All right, so my handwriting is a bit hard to read. Allow me. Conditions for release: one, Edward is to be supervised at all times until further notice. Further notice being a change in orders by his physician. Two - I will be the primary physician for both Edward and Alphonse, and I will attempt to assist them with their mental health issues as well. That means I need full access to them in your facility. Third, any significant physical or psychological events are to be reported to me as soon as possible, and anything severe warrants immediate notification. I want it treated as an emergency. Alert me regardless of whether I'm on duty or not. You'll have my personal contact information. This is vital if I'm to be at all effective in facilitating their recovery. Agreed?"
Mustang nodded, and started to speak, but Gansworth cut him off.
"Fourth…whatever is going on that has an impact on Edward, I need to know about it. It will be kept in total confidence. But this half-assed information you've tried to palm off on me in the past is not conducive to helping my patient. I realize that it's all on a 'need-to-know' basis; but unless there's a clear and compelling reason not to tell me, I want to decide for myself if I need to know. If it's not relevant, I can disregard it. But we can't risk having you leave out a detail that you think is not significant, and having me make incorrect assumptions and therefore take incorrect actions because of it. And that includes background information. Alphonse's condition is intimately tied with much of Edward's internal guilt; yet I had to get what little I know about the brother's true situation directly from that boy. I need to sit down with you and get the facts; about what happened to him, and anything else about them that you haven't revealed."
Mustang gazed at the man in deep thought, assessing his sincerity.
Gansworth folded the note and set it on the desk. He stared back expectantly. "Well?"
"You don't leave much to chance, do you?" he sighed. "All right, I agree. Those conditions are acceptable. When can we take Ed out of here?"
"Well, for one thing, you won't be taking him. Medical staff will deliver him, make any necessary changes to his living space to accommodate his current needs, and an orderly will be staying on for the first twenty-four hours. That can occur whenever you're ready to receive him at your end."
"We're ready now. Can he be moved this afternoon?"
"He could…but I'm going to suggest tomorrow morning. He's a bit more stable in the mornings, and this will be a big change for him to deal with. His nights are rough as it is; the more time he has to settle in before he goes to sleep at night, the easier this will probably be for him."
Mustang considered objecting, but ultimately, as anxious as he was to get Ed back close, he didn't want to make things harder for him. "Tomorrow then. Time?"
"Early is best, I think. Expect our little entourage around six-thirty. That way we won't be competing with shift changes or meal deliveries here. When is the shift change in your unit?"
"It varies. Most at six, seven-thirty for the rest of them. So six-thirty will work well."
"Then be ready for us, Colonel. Will you be there in person?"
"Yes, I plan on it."
"Mr. Elric hasn't quite absolved you of blame for his injuries. I'm not suggesting that you stay away, but it might be best if you keep a low profile at first, if I may make that recommendation."
"I'll make sure that we have someone he trusts at the ready. Major Armstrong, most likely." It was not a great feeling, knowing that he couldn't include himself on that list again quite yet.
"Armstrong. Perfect, I was just going to suggest that. Just give Edward some space for now. I'd like you to keep touching base with him though. Just brief, casual contacts, but fairly often if you can manage it."
"I think I can manage that, if you think it's best. You don't think that's too hard on him?"
"He's a brave soul. He's certain that you've hurt him…and yet…he's not willing to let go of the hope that you're not his enemy after all. He expresses as much concern about you leaving as he does about these unfortunate incidents."
Mustang nodded, a little surprised.
"Very well then. We'll give this a try. If the stress from moving him early causes a significant relapse, this might be a very brief stay. We'll be monitoring him closely."
"Of course. It's in his best interest. Thank you, doctor. If that's all..?"
"Do continue to look in on him, Colonel. He's been better today. He seems to find your Corporal Enfield fascinating. Doesn't mind having him sit next to him at all. I was a little concerned when the Major had other things to attend to, but it turned out well enough."
"Enfield." Mustang brought the soldier's face and statistics up in his mind's eye. Average looking, unremarkable military record, just one of the masses. Nothing fascinating that he could recall. "Well, as you suggest, I'll go check it out."
xxxxxxx
Mustang walked into the room, and it appeared to take a moment for the guard to spot him over his magazine and rise to attention.
Ed had been relaxed and listening quietly, half-asleep until the door began to open; he stiffened and the Corporal caught his sudden change in demeanor out of the corner of his eye and warily waited until the unannounced visitor was in plain sight. He took his hand off his sidearm and leapt up to salute when he saw who it was.
"At ease."
"Identification respectfully requested, sir." Enfield returned his hand to a position in easy reach of his weapon. Ed was turning sideways on the bed, struggling to sit up; the guard kept both men in sight, glad he'd lifted the bedrail into place to prevent any falls.
"Of course. " Mustang reached into his breast pocket and retrieved his identity card.
"Today's password, sir."
"Ligature."
"Number?"
"Oh-eight-seven."
"Thank you, sir." Enfield handed the identification badge back and let his coat fall over his weapon, satisfied.
"Sit back down, Corporal. As you were."
He sat as directed while Ed managed to get himself sitting upright, eyes exclusively on Mustang.
"Hello, Edward. Who's your new friend?"
Ed looked at Enfield hesitantly, caught off-guard by the Colonel's friendly approach. A quick glance revealed that the older man was smiling slightly and keeping his distance.
"Al."
Mustang's brows furrowed. Was Ed confused again?
"Al-bert," corrected Enfield with a smile.
"Albert." Ed repeated. "Al for short."
"If you insist. But everyone in my family calls me Albert."
"Al." Ed said stubbornly. "I like it better."
"Other than your disagreement over names, how are things going?" Mustang asked.
Enfield waited, expecting that the question was directed to Ed. But when Ed didn't answer, he took up the task.
"I'm reading to him a bit. He seems to be doing pretty well."
"Articles," Ed chimed in.
"Scientific Monthly," the Corporal added, angling the cover up for the Colonel to see.
Ah. Now the fascination factor was getting a bit clearer. Ed found a fellow science geek in Enfield.
"Those are your magazines?" Mustang asked.
"Yes, sir, I brought them in. I thought that being an alchemist and all, this might be of interest."
"Good thinking. Ed, we're not far from getting you released. I just wanted to come by and make sure you're still getting better."
"I am." Ed said sheepishly. He wondered if his big mouth had caused any trouble. But if it had, the Colonel didn't seem to have come here to bring it up.
"Looking forward to coming back?"
Ed nodded, getting a little nervous at the concept of changing surroundings again.
"You'll be transported by the medical staff, but we'll make sure that you still have someone you know with you. We can have Corporal Enfield come for a bit afterward, if you'd like. You seem to enjoy his company."
Ed was twisting at the sheets and starting to gnaw on his lower lip, the nervous habits re-emerging.
Enfield gave his hand a pat to get his attention, watching him faithfully. "Hey now, doesn't that hurt? Doc says you can't be doing that anymore."
Ed's hand came up and took the place of his lip for chewing.
"That's better, but don't bite too hard."
"I should let you get back to your reading," the Colonel said, inching back to the door. Enfield seemed competent and alert; he was satisfied that Ed was being guarded properly.
"It really holds his interest," Enfield said pointedly. Mustang took in the implication - that once he left, Enfield would start reading again, and Ed would likely be distracted and calm down.
"I see. Carry on."
Ed watched Mustang leave, stranded with mixed feelings in his wake. He always felt kind of rejected or something when Mustang left his sight. It was a twinge of that terrible feeling he had often in his dreams, when he relived the very last moments he'd seen his father. The man had given him an unreadable, unemotional stare for a few frozen moments before going out the door without a word, never to return. That stare had lanced his young heart with the realization that he was being left for good - without warning, without reason, without any apparent hesitation or regret on his father's part.
The stare had communicated everything somehow. It was worse than a look of hatred, colder and more damning, something a young child should ever have to see directed at him from anyone. And it had come from his own father; with that one look, the man had taken a hatchet to the bond between them .
The tears in his mother's eyes had confirmed it, although he was too stunned to ask as she smile bravely and pretended it was all right, shooing him off to play before bed when she finally noticed him standing there. He had gone to sit silently in the bedroom and stare at his feet, trying hard to convince himself that he was imagining things.
That was the naked moment with the full effect. The ability to react with anger wasn't recovered until the next day, when Al innocently asked where Dad was and when he would be coming home. The tears that his mother fought back as she playfully distracted Al from his question watered the seeds of rage in Ed's heart, furious that his father would hurt their mother so badly. Even as he hoped he was wrong, that his father would return - the coldness he'd seen in his father's soul for the first time with that awful stare told him otherwise. He knew the man was gone for good.
It wasn't that the Colonel had ever looked at him that way. It was kind of the opposite. He felt a warmth that seeped through the steely, officious façade the man tried to present. It was more of a fear of seeing that look turn cold now that he'd come to feel a connection with him. To be cut off so brutally again - in his present condition, he wasn't sure that his heart could bear it. It had been very close, out there in the preserve, when the cruel words were hitting home. The Colonel didn't make any sense anymore, and it was a bad idea to rely on him. But every time they crossed paths, the need for his attention welled up anyway.
"Hey, Ed, how 'bout this? " Enfield said softly, saddened at the look he saw on Ed's face, wanting to distract him from whatever thoughts that gave him such an expression of pain. "Scientific evidence suggests that small animals communicate in complex languages."
Ed glanced up, attention caught for a second. Enfield plowed forward, reading the article with lively emphasis, and soon he had re-captured most of Ed's erratic attention as the words painted a picture of rats telling one another stories from generations before, carrying forward knowledge and traditions beyond explanation by their genetics and their immediate cage-mate's experience.
Enfield thought it was quite a stretch and just barely scientific enough as a theory to be included in a magazine so titled; but they threw some pretty far-fetched stuff in between the highly technical articles, he presumed to increase casual readership, and it distracted Ed, so he gladly relayed every word as if it were gospel.
Anything that seemed to pull him away from stewing, from that very sad, depressed outlook, was desirable. Albert had never been assigned to a confidential suicide watch before, although he had been in charge of health and safety monitoring of some at-risk prisoners before. It was a lot different when it was your own man and not the enemy. The stakes were higher.
He had come to realize that Ed calmed and appeared to be listening when he read, but that he had no idea what Ed did with what he heard. He didn't seem to be able to repeat or have a discussion about any of it; he did sometimes obsess over an unfamiliar word, but never related it further to the article. Mostly, he seemed to fall into a pattern of listening, as if it gave him some mental structure to cling to, and his goal was to be settled and calm. It was a disappointment after the initial excitement of finding that Ed was interested in listening…he envisioned eye-opening exchanges with the young genius, and perhaps a sort of heroic feeling at drawing him out of his deep depression and illness. Not a very realistic flight of fantasy, and reality had shown him just how wrong he was in fairly short order. Still, he was pleased that he was acing his job as given, and impressing the higher-ups.
Ed only interrupted him once this time…to ask if the Colonel had left. It was an odd question, since they'd both watched him leave a few minutes before. Enfield supposed Ed was checking for some emotional reason. He assured him that the Colonel was very busy and that he would be back again as soon as he could manage it. When silence was the only reaction, he waited a few moments, then continued reading.
Mustang listened outside the door for a bit before moving on. They had lucked out with this guard; and a good thing, too because Hobson had been relieved of this duty and was sanitizing dumpsters instead for the next week in order to adjust his attitude. He would not be watching Edward again.
The stretch only had to be made for a few more days; then only half the personnel would be needed for the watch, with any luck at all.
It was that luck factor that Mustang worried about the most. He needed to seek out Havoc and let him know when Ed was coming, to avoid an accidental, premature reunion. The Major would need to come in first thing tomorrow as well.
xxxx
Outside the main building, high in the trees, a frustrated crow scolded the windows of the hallway, bored and irritable with the unchanging view. The blue uniformed figures flowed in and out of the buildings like errant ants, but few of the ones he saw were of interest.
When the dark-haired Colonel passed below he grew silent, cocking his head to focus a yellow-ringed eye on the serious expression and tense posture. Sometimes the man moved with a fluid, easy grace; but this was the image of a person under significant stress. His hurried, heavy pace and dark-ringed eyes spoke volumes.
These observations were slightly more interesting than looking at nothing but infinitely more frustrating since the man was alone. He abruptly decided that someone else needed to take the watch if it was going to be this damned tedious. In a flurry of dull black feathers, he belligerently abandoned his post .
tbc