Chapter 25
"Reporting as ordered. You had some opinions you wanted to express?" Gansworth hesitated before taking the seat Mustang directed him to. He wasn't in the mood to play games of rank and protocol, and his tone was terse and direct.
The Colonel's dark eyes sharpened at the unfriendly attitude, but he forged ahead without missing a beat.
"I'm trying to get a better handle on this. For instance, just now. He comes around, more or less okay - so then what? What's your take on this?"
"My take? You don't seem to want to hear what I've already told you, Colonel. It's beyond me. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that trying to mainstream him outside of the hospital is dangerous and damn it, it's irresponsible. There's no telling when he'll have another flashback, and no predicting what he might do because of it. He might hurt himself or hurt someone else. And placing him with his brother… Alphonse is in no shape to deal with this level of drama. Do you really intend to throw them together and keep them like a pair of exotic pets, with all of us just guessing how to care for them properly? Mental institutions are set up to take custody of people when they can't think for themselves. It's a far more elaborate care regimen than just providing room and board and keeping an eye on them. I have to say, although you don't want to consider it, Edward belongs in a locked facility, protected from himself and under constant professional care and surveillance. Until he regains his equilibrium he's at constant risk. I understand that it may seems to you like you're doing him some sort of favor, as if you're being kind and sparing him from imprisonment. But I don't see any indication that he suffers from general confinement. He prefers it for the most part. You're my superior so I will follow your orders and do my best for him here…but I think it's dead wrong."
"I don't agree. At all. As hard as it is to take care of him here, it's far superior to the alternative. It's not some clinical confinement here, it's protection and a place where he can feel like he belongs."
Gansworth smacked the desktop for emphasis. "You're not listening! Do you have any concept of how much further he has to go, how much worse this might get before it gets better? That last episode was shocking to me, Colonel, and you know, I thought for a moment that at least he had uncovered the worst of it. But then I realized - this was still not related to his most intimate physical injuries, and he hasn't shown the slightest indication of remembering any of that yet. Surely you haven't forgotten? Given the nature and gravity of that damage, and the sheer evil of this last revelation, who knows what more there must be to this story?"
"Just how much time did you spend with him in that institution, Doctor?" Mustang challenged, leaning forward and matching the doctor's rising volume. "With all of that so-called expertise, I didn't see any impressive treatment methods. Did you see the manner he was kept in? Did you see the look in his eyes when they had him immobilized?"
The officer was beginning to bristle at the memories. They had treated Ed like a dangerous lab animal; their approach to long-term care was to place him on highly addictive tranquilizers and leave him strapped to the bed nearly around the clock.
"Of course I saw him. And fairly often, too. I admit they had him heavily sedated and in restraints, but damn it, it was necessary! Psychology may be outside my normal bailiwick, but I do know his condition. With the extent and nature of his injuries, and considering his inability to cooperate, there was no other choice but to immobilize him. I spent a lot of time on his case, between the surgeries and the reconstructions. I think the staff at Block Five did their part of the job well. The reports they provided on his mental status were all pretty consistent. He was fully insane and fully incapacitated."
"People don't usually go bouncing up and down the halls when they're in critical condition. He couldn't have been confined to a bed right here in this hospital? His primary threats were from his wounds. Wouldn't your own staff and facilities have been a better choice?"
"Who can say? That wasn't my call. Central's specialist had him moved to Five and my orders were to treat him using their facilities. I didn't have any qualms about it. There was no time for second guessing. My hands were full keeping him alive. As a matter of fact, you're his guardian, they must have had your permission for the transfer. Like you, I rely on their experience in making this kind of recommendation."
"A mental facility for a critically injured man, while he's still fighting for his life, is normal. You don't really believe that, do you?"
"They have medical staff! They have adequate, sterile placement for injured patients! They have more expertise in keeping disturbed men from doing themselves further damage! I don't appreciate your tone. His care was appropriate and thoughtful in every way! What are we arguing about, here, anyway? What's done is done, and you've made it abundantly clear that you won't let him transfer back. "
"And you concurred with the plan to permanently remove the automail fittings from his leg?" Mustang asked levelly. With Gansworth successfully provoked and on a verbal roll, this was his best shot at getting an honest answer or tripping him up in any subterfuge.
"Oh now…what plan? What are you contriving? There was no such thing to concur with. There was no plan to…"
"The hell there wasn't! I screwed it up for them when I brought him here. It was pure luck, a matter of timing. They never asked for my permission or so much as advised me of the possibility. You're telling me that you weren't a party to planning that procedure?"
"That's ludicrous; there was no medical necessity. The injuries in that area were very low priority, and they've healed well enough. So what would be the excuse…"
"You tell me." Mustang watched closely, but the doctor's reactions seemed genuine. He was either an accomplished actor, or he truly was an outsider to the psych staff and their hidden agendas. It was important to determine once and for all where his allegiance would lie. If he could be relied upon, it was crucial to get him on board with the way things would have to be. He had to become a believer in the need to keep Block Five's staff in the dark, because he was going to have even more secrets to keep in the very near future.
"I find that extremely hard to believe. We were prioritizing surgeries and invasive treatments and still perpetually juggling one critical procedure against another. You think there was room to throw in plans for anything arbitrary, you think I would have agreed to that? Especially when the impact on his quality of life would be so negative?"
"So you want me to believe that they didn't let you in on it." Mustang frowned. The answers confirmed his gut feeling. The doctor had been too trusting of Block Five's motives, not an accomplice to them. It seemed reasonably safe to begin schooling him to the contrary.
"I'm not convinced that it happened at all. And I think I would have known if they'd brought in another surgeon. I don't know where you get your information, but it's preposterous."
"You don't know as much about that place as you think you do. I'm not even the one who stumbled onto that plan. It was Ed's automail technician who elevated the issue. Luckily, she's a very dear friend of Ed's. She came to me ready to take my head off."
Gansworth rubbed his jaw in distracted worry. The Colonel wasn't given to flights of fancy, and there was no mistaking how deadly serious the officer's convictions were in this matter. There were some things that had puzzled him about Ed's case; and changes happened without proper notice a number of times. But they had been things that were seemingly arbitrary and harmless, not worth a second thought compared to the Herculean tasks they were undertaking to repair and reconstruct the shattered remnants of his body.
Had he missed such a dangerous trend of mismanagement, intentional or not, in the overwhelming burden of trying to help the boy survive in more or less one piece?
"Personal friend, you say. Friends can become very distraught. Seeing Edward's condition would be difficult, to say the least. She probably misunderstood something that was said," he responded, more thoughtful now than argumentative.
"Miss Rockbell isn't one for hysterics. She's a seasoned automail tech. Not a job for the squeamish."
"Rockbell? I do know who you're referring to. I remember doing a consultation with her, and it was regarding the damage to his nerve connections. She actually worked on him a number of times on her own. I know, because I remember seeing it in his records each time. And I did wonder why I wasn't called in to assist, or at the very least, to observe. "
"It wasn't that she had someone else assist. She didn't trust the staff from the start, so she managed to do the repairs and replacements solo. Ms. Rockbell is nothing short of a wizard in that department. But there was an incident. He had to be awake enough to move and verify the connections when she finished, and staff was responsible for having him sedated at a safe level. But when she pulled off the restraint he attacked her the second he had the arm free. According to the incident report from the orderlies, when they got her away from him, he nearly succeeded in crushing his own throat in the confusion. She jumped right back in his reach to stop him. Sound like someone who would be rattled by his condition?"
"That was documented in his charts, they didn't hide it. I wasn't there when it happened, but I read the incident report. It happened because they were late with his sedation."
"They were supposed to reduce his meds to keep him at a safe, semi-conscious level specifically for her procedures. How could they be 'late' with that? Bottom line, they screwed it up - whether intentionally or not I guess we'll never know for sure. She addressed the issue afterward by resetting the compression strength to minimal; on the regular setting, his automail has the capability of killing with prehensile force alone."
"So you're not just critical of their methods. You don't trust Ed in their care at all." He hadn't even considered the possibility that there were internals that might intend to do actual harm to Edward. And, Ganworth slowly realized, there was a purpose behind the piercing stare those dark eyes delivered. He was under some suspicion as well. This was an interrogation meant to reveal what side he was on.
"According to her, the psych lead was adamant that Ed would never improve, and that weakening the limb wasn't enough. He hounded her about it every time she came in to make adjustments. He tried demanding the schematics so he'd have the ability to remove and impound the automail arm at will, supposedly as a last resort for when he was out of control."
"Just a moment. Which lead? Did she give you a name?"
"Dr. Krieg. Johan Krieg, I assume. I checked staffing as part of due diligence to verify her story. The administrator is the only Krieg on record."
"The administrator? That's certainly not in his purview. That's a very strange story indeed." Even more puzzling, it was highly unlikely that Miss Rockbell would even be aware of the man's existence at floor level.
"The last straw was came when they summoned her on the pretense of an emergency service call. It was bogus; just another attempt to get the secrets to his devices. Only this time, it was worse; the lead wanted the leg taken off permanently, including the fittings integrated into his body. She refused. He - Kreig - ordered her to provide certain necessary details so that he could have the procedures done by someone else, with or without her assistance. That's the point where she came to me. I tried to convince her that I would never give permission for something like that to happen, but that wasn't enough. She blasted me for mismanagement, said she'd never hand over the procedure for removing the automail fittings to anyone. At the time, I believed that they would have to get my approval as his guardian to alter his automail in any way, so I assured her that I would issue orders that she was the only one authorized to service the automail. It was under control. It didn't help; by the next morning she'd already packed up and left." Mustang grimaced and swept a hand across the desktop. "I didn't get a chance to explain that over in Psych, staff answers directly to Central - so she may have decided that I was stonewalling her. And I have to confess that I was somewhat skeptical of her story. As you say, Dr. Krieg's involvement didn't make sense. I'd never been in the position of questioning the motives of the medical units. She admitted that her visits set Ed off terribly, it was obvious that she was pretty upset by that. So it didn't seem unreasonable to me that she hadn't been back after that. He didn't need service, and her visits weren't beneficial to either one of them emotionally. I figured that the next time she showed up, we'd get it all straightened out."
"Makes sense. So she chose not to return for visits for a period of time. That's not remarkable, in fact it's very common. Most of the patients in any long-term care facility receive fewer and fewer visits as time goes on. Especially when the outlook for their recovery and release is poor," Gansworth said.
"But that wasn't it, after all. Apparently someone on Five's staff wrote to harass her continuously after she left, threatening to have her brought here and detained until she told them everything they wanted to know. Which explains why our recent letters came back unopened."
"You're making a very serious allegation. There must be some other way to reach her to clarify this. These claims need to be investigated. And Edward is sorely in need of help with his automail issues."
"Well, that's being addressed now. I didn't give it much priority until we sent a special delivery message that Al was found alive and it bounced. Up until then I thought she was reading what was sent and just wasn't responsive. If she was using excuses to avoid seeing Ed like this, then that was up to her. But now I'll wager that she didn't even know that Edward was released to live here, and she's the closest thing he has to a living relative outside of Alphonse. All that dirty work is the product of that institution you're so sold on." He didn't quite have enough trust in Gansworth to reveal all of the cards - that much of the information came from recently filched copies of Central and Block Five's confidential inter-office correspondence logs. Those logs were still being combed by Master Sergeant Fuery, or at least they had been until he put the task on hold to leave for his current assignment.
"Don't go any further, Colonel. I get your point."
"The punch line to that long story is that Ms. Rockbell has been contacted and she's agreed to come back."
"Really." The doctor frowned, making mental notes. "How soon, do you know? I need to prepare for this. And I'm guessing that she is close friends with Alphonse as well?"
"She should arrive tomorrow. And, yes, as far as I know. The three of them have been friends since early childhood."
"It's good news that she's coming, of course, but still…I'm thinking we will need to be very cautious."
"Understand this. Edward is not just an official issue or a problem to be dealt with. He's no longer my subordinate but he's still my responsibility and a very special person in many ways. It may be easier to shelve him away by some other method. But I refuse to believe that it would be better for him to be with strangers in an unfamiliar place. And as soon as he's able to start telling us more about what has happened, that's top secret information we may need in order to defend against any further attacks. So there is no other option."
Gansworth shook his head in frustration. There were just too many unknowns to plan for with any level of confidence. And all of these revelations about Central and Psych were unsettling and hard to absorb. "You may have eliminated the alternatives, but it doesn't change the fact that it's dangerous to have him here loose like this."
"It is dangerous, I agree, but it's the far lesser danger. I can't have him showing up on the base hospital roster too much, either. There are several very stringent superiors that I answer to in Central. He's no longer active military and as far as they're concerned I'm on thin ice keeping him here as it is. I can't have his name passing under too many eyes week after week. And then there's the matter of Alphonse. He'd raise the roof if we tried to lock Edward up. I can just see him going straight to Fuhrer Bradley and taking up his offer to let them stay in Central together. I've gone over and over this in my mind, and this is the absolute best I can do for him. He has to stay here."
"Then I have to ask that you take the time to reconsider my approach with a regimen of continuous low-dose sedation. Slow thoughts aren't necessarily a bad thing, and in Edward's case it might be a blessing. You mentioned his…"
Lieutenant Hawkeye rapped and entered briskly without pause. "You're needed, sirs. Major Armstrong is reporting an increase in activity again."
xxXxxXxxXxx
Ed's mumbling increased in volume, and he began worming back and forth to ease his discomfort.
"Are you in pain, lad?" Armstrong hovered, trying to determine if this was truly an awakening or just more unconscious movement. Ed hadn't responded, but instead continued to move side to side in the bed, eyes closed.
Gansworth appeared at his elbow, and they traded places as soon as the identity verification was complete.
The doctor took over, thumbing up Ed's eyelids with some difficulty while his patient moved away from his touch. He was indeed coming into consciousness again, slightly agitated already, and that wasn't promising.
Automail wobbled in the air until it found the intruder that had touched his face and straightened to hold him away.
Blurred, splintered light danced in the foreground until blinking started to clear it away; confusion and disorientation accompanied the effort to clear his vision. The last of the dream dissipated without a trace, forgotten, and the thin, concerned face hovering nearby was slower in making sense. It wasn't long before he recognized Gansworth, but once identified his gut reaction was still mixed.
It still compelled him to move away, to try and come into alertness immediately. The white-jacketed body blocked the rest of the view, and for a few moments he couldn't be sure if he was in his room. The I.V. was still aggravating his inner arm, and he struggled with the fear that he was back in the infirmary.
The attempt to bolt upright was no match for the firm hand that pinned his shoulder. That was the Major at work, closing in to assist. It brought him into visual range, and Ed's eyes latched onto the welcome sight. He got a hand up to seize the man's sleeve, his automail still pushing the doctor to stay at arm's length.
"Major!" He barely got the word out of his dry, sticky throat. He coughed to clear it and blinked hard to get his eyes to cooperate.
"It's okay, Edward, everything is under control. I'm here," Armstrong leaned even closer to be sure that Ed could see him easily.
"Let's relax this now," Gansworth said, attempting to guide the metal arm down. It didn't budge.
Ed didn't know what to say as he tried to read the eyes behind the glaring spectacles.
Gansworth gave him a few seconds and then tried again.
"Do you recognized me, Edward? Are we all right now?"
"Doc…" Ed managed.
"That's right, very good." He tried gently pushing the automail aside again. "Can we bring this down now? I'm not comfortable with having this pressed against my chest."
Ed tried to accommodate by squirming further away until they were out of contact, cautiously maintaining the rigid straight-arm between them while clinging awkwardly to the Major.
"Thank you. That's much better," Gansworth said, feigning a pleased smile. Rather than push the point any further, he decided to wait and see how long it would take for the defensive posture to drop.
Ed didn't volunteer anything in the next two minutes of silent stand-off.
"It looked like you were dreaming when I came in. Can you tell me what the dream was about?" he asked mildly.
Ed shook his head.
"Was it a pleasant dream or a difficult one?"
"Don't know," he said, reluctant to seem accepting of the man's persistence.
"If you're still tired it's perfectly fine to sleep a bit longer," Armstrong offered.
"Un-uh." Ed seemed to respond right away to reject the Major's suggestion. He changed focus and released his hold, stiffly lowering both arms. "I gotta get up."
No longer fended off, the doctor motioned for Armstrong to give him room. He stationed himself further up along the bed. Ed didn't resist when he maneuvered closer to help him sit up, but it was obvious that he was still on exaggerated alert.
"Better?"
"Uh." Ed tried to keep the doctor in sight but pain forced his eyes to squeeze shut. His flesh hand knuckled the area of his shoulder near the automail. A wave of involuntary movement passed through his metal fingers with an unsettling clatter. He managed to get his eyes to open up.
"Hurts."
The doctor reached out and Ed evaded his hand.
"Hold still now."
"No, I'm okay."
"I understand that, but you need to let me do my job. I just want to look. I need to know what's going on here." He ignored his patient's reluctance and eased a hand just under the wide neck opening, glad they hadn't switched him back to t-shirts yet. It felt hot, not just warm. On observation, it was slightly reddened.
"Have you been rubbing at this quite a lot?"
Ed shook his head and shrugged, careless of the warning twist of pain that move gifted him with. Even though he was suffering, the subject seemed to be boring and irritating him a little already. Now that he could clearly see that he was in his own room with the Major standing close by, the doctor's presence wasn't so very threatening.
"Are you upset about something, Edward? You don't seem to be very happy."
The expression on the young man's face changed again at that. His grumpy frown loosened.
"I don't know."
"You must have some idea how you're feeling right now."
"I just woke up. I'm not…but you're already poking and prodding at me, I don't get a chance."
"I'm sorry if you feel disturbed when I check on you. You know that my aim is to make sure that you're getting better. Is there something I can do differently that would help?"
Ed's next shrug aggravated the pain in his shoulder sharply, doubling him over. Gansworth's hands moved to steady him, and Ed's attempt to ward him away with the back of his hand missed entirely.
"Aah…wait…"
"It's going to be all right now, let me help you. You slept past the last dose of your pain medication, let's get that down so it can start working."
"No. I don't want it."
"I know. But you'll need it in order to move around, and you'll be expecting to do your exercises today at some point. Right, Major?"
"Absolutely. We've got a great day lined up."
Ed frowned uncomfortably and let his gaze slide past the men to the walls and ceiling; the urge to touch the dull surfaces struck him out of nowhere. He had no idea why he needed to do that. The walls were the same as always. It was the same ceiling he'd been stuck staring at for too many hours. His still-sluggish thought process gave up on trying to figure out what he was supposed to be checking for, and his attention returned to the bothersome doctor.
"See something?" the doctor asked lightly.
Ed shook his head, and recoiled with a grunt from the offered medication. "No. I said I'll take it later."
"I'm must insist that you take it now. Would you like the Major to assist you?"
Ed tried to push the pill away, but when his hand touched the doctor's, he froze, confronted by the shape of a forbidden object. There was pen protruding from the man's shirt pocket. His mind started racing blindly, flailing for a plan to get that item. To cover his intentions, his face twitched away.
"Wait! Okay, I will…I'll take it! You can help me. But, um, I still don't like it. You'll have to get close. Real close."
The doctor caught the not-so-subtle double-take directed at his pocket, immediately putting together what it was that Ed had laid eyes on that caused him to change his tune so abruptly.
"Sure, that's not a problem. I'm here to help you, after all," he said evenly, considering how best to handle this development.
Ed feigned lost balance but only managed to come to rest against the starched placket with empty hands. It wasn't enough of a distraction, and the pocket was too high up to palm the pen without getting caught. The urge to just grab it was almost uncontrollable. As much as he tried to haul his eyes away, they traveled back while he stoically withstood the urge to gag and dumped the whole cup of water down his throat in one throw.
He swallowed hard and gave it another try. "I need to get up. I need you to help me up." He held his arms out like a child waiting to be carried.
"Take it easy, now. Hold on just a minute." Gansworth reached into his pocket quickly, intent on minimizing the distress the Ed was sure to experience at losing the opportunity to grab the item it held. Judging from his somewhat crude and simplistic demeanor, Ed's reaction time and thought processes were extremely sluggish at the moment, but he wasn't displaying any undue stress or disconnect from reality.
This actually seemed like a good opportunity to try something he'd been contemplating. If anything, the boy needed more of a sense of empowerment. Maybe, instead of forbidding him to have the pen, he could safely have limited, supervised use of it instead.
"I want to give you the opportunity to write something."
Ed's jaw dropped as his hand reached out, opening and closing in uncontrolled impatience. "Give it to me!"
"In a moment." He fished in the deeper coat pocket, letting his fingers brush the sedative vials for reassurance, and then brought out a small pad of paper. "I'm going to give you a chance to write a note to someone. I'm about to hand you a pen and pad. Would you like that?"
"Yes!"
"All right then. All you have to do first is have a little nourishment, and I would have said 'take your pill,' but you've already done that for me. So you just need to do this one thing first."
Ed's lips tightened. His head shuddered back and forth in a negative before he was able to override his involuntary reaction and nod in agreement instead.
Armstrong took the hint and fetched the sectioned container that had been resting on the counter, peeling open the lid. Everything in it was more or less dry and crunchy, strategically selected to be the tactile opposite of the slimy matter that haunted his memory.
Ed plucked out a couple of peanuts with breathless determination. He clamped down on his stomach's writhing resistance and ate mechanically while he stared at the pen, wondering who the hell this guy thought he would want to write to. A few more nuts, a cracker, a surprise chocolate chip - the little bits went down with just a few bites, still in an essentially solid texture, slipping by without triggering a shutdown by his subconscious defenses. He was warier of the drink, but it was just the usual grape juice, and it was gulped down and out of the way almost too fast for him to think of his next move. What was the plan, how could he create a distraction to keep the pen after writing the note? Maybe he could say he wanted to write some more, take notes, draw…no, no, don't say draw, he chided himself, that might remind them of the symbols and they would take it away for sure. They must have forgotten, and he couldn't afford to remind them.
He went for a large fistful of food in his nervousness and was startled again when Gansworth brought up a hand to slow him down.
"Ed," he said quietly. "I'm pleased that you're doing so well with that, but let's go easy for now. I think that too much at once will be a little bit of a chore for your system to deal with; your body is accustomed to a very soft, bland diet. We want you to be comfortable. This is going to stay here, we'll have it full for you all the time, any time you feel like you're hungry, or if you just feel like chewing on something, or if you get bored or whatever. It's not a meal, there's no time limit, no expectation as to when or how much you should have. You don't have to take another bite of it if don't want to, that's fine as well."
Ed opened his hand and let the bits of food tumble back into the container without a second thought. He'd met his requirement. He'd earned the damned pen. His bladder was twitching when the Major offered to walk him to the bathroom but he protested that he didn't need to go.
They didn't buy it. With a maddeningly calm smile, the doctor told him that he would wait until they returned.
It was almost working too well, in Armstrong's worried eyes. Ed was suddenly obedient and controlled, the sneaky introduction to free feeding had gone off without a hitch. The boy was nothing if not perceptive and suspicious, and he definitely tended to be stubborn at times. The carefully thought out type of food, express lack of pressure to eat it and full control of when, what and how much he consumed could easily have been recognized as what it was - an attempt to manipulate him into feeling more normal and natural about eating.
Once he was taking in food without high levels of distress, and the process of digestion settled back down to normal, there was a much better chance of awakening his body's natural rhythm and resurrecting his appetite. Reintroduced to his own cycle of hunger and satiation, the hope was that Ed could regain the ability to control his own nutritional intake.
This stage was delicate in relationship to that goal. They would have to be very careful in controlling his environment if they were to going to be able to re-establish the idea that there were things that were safe and reasonable to put in his mouth and swallow. Today's first baby step in the process of de-sensitization was a success.
They'd managed to trick him into taking this trip without the usual hesitation, too, Armstrong realized. He held the infusion bag aloft, matching pace as Ed scrambled down the hall with an uneven, stumbling clatter. His attempt to lend a hand was brushed off impatiently, and it set him to wondering if Gansworth realized just how much this meant to his patient.
"Easy, now, lad."
"Never mind, just keep up!"
It was distressing to think that the carrot they were dangling was the instrument Ed fully intended to use to end his existence. The volatile situation they were descending into was no doubt going to be tricky.
Ed was fidgety when they returned, still clumsily leading the Major in his hurry to get back. When Gansworth directed him to sit and started to hand him the pad, his control slipped and he snatched it away far too forcefully.
He knew instantly that he'd made a mistake. It wasn't even the thing he really wanted.
"I'm sorry! I'll give it back!"
"No, no, it's fine. I understand that you're anxious to try this. Before I give you the pen..."
"Yes? Yes? What?"
"…I want you to think about who you want to write your note to."
"Okay, okay. I'll write to you!"
"That's nice, Edward, but that's not what this exercise is about. You're going to write to someone you haven't seen in a while. It might be a little difficult for you, but if it is, that's all right. I'm going to help you if you like."
"Haven't seen, haven't seen…" Ed waggled his head impatiently. "Colonel Mustang!"
"Think harder, okay? Someone you haven't seen in a long while. Someone you'd like to communicate with."
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! You're thinking of who it is, you know who it is, just tell me! There's somebody you want me to write to, just tell me who the hell it is!" Ed snapped, starting to bend the pad in his fist. His self-control was stretching like piano wire, anxious to figure out how he was going to be able to keep the pen and get away with it when they were all through making him jump through hoops.
"Okay, let's calm down now. Just take a deep breath. You'll know if you think about it, Edward."
"No I don't. I said what I thought. I can't think of anyone else!"
"Remember what we've been telling you?" Gansworth swallowed, feeling the sharp edge of discomfort from pushing this issue. His conservative opinion was that the subject was something that shouldn't be rushed. But Mustang indicated that the brothers' reunion had to be soon. The shock needed to be softened somehow and there was no time to delay it any further; unfortunately, the process was bound to be somewhat shocking and unpleasant in itself.
Ed pursed his lips and shook his head, just barely maintaining under the pressure.
"Okay, I'll say it again. Alphonse is alive and well - and he thinks of you often. So this would be a nice start to getting the two of you back in touch. A little note would probably make him feel better. You want to write to your little brother and let him know you're all right so he won't worry so much about you. So he'll know that you want to see him again. Do you think you can do that?" With that, Gansworth held out the pen. If he could get Ed to behave as if Al were here and alive and available to communicate with, even if he didn't believe it at first, it would be modeling his behavior a step in the right direction.
Ed snatched the pen as soon as it was in reach; but his head jerked back as the words sank in. The pen took on new significance as the concept lanced his single-minded determination, splitting his momentum and ripping his conviction apart.
Use the pen…to communicate with Al? No, that wasn't an answer. The pen clutched in his whitening fingers would be the instrument for retrieving the body held hostage at the Gate, and only a soul given in payment would redeem it. Sacrificing himself to the blue-white light in the other dimension wasn't frightening at all; there had been no remorse, no pain and no fear in the aborted attempt. This thing was meant to mark his body, to gain access to the terminal edge and fling himself into the perfect oblivion. But was he so sure he was right? Or was his conviction false, driven by the selfish desire leave the pain of this world behind? Damn it, he'd been so sure of this just minutes ago. Every time he had answer, and thought he'd found his way…something jerked the rug out from under his feet.
The guy made it sound as if notes could be passed to Al easily, any time. That also implied that he'd kept Al waiting and worrying needlessly; that he was somewhere here but held apart, and somehow it was his fault. He wasn't resisting that story because he preferred his own version - was he? Wouldn't it be better if they were right? But they weren't. Al was dead. Wasn't he?
"I don't…you just…don't know ," Ed was breathing harshly. Suddenly, there was no path to relief, no release, no absolution to believe in. Just more pain and confusion and uncertainty, because who the hell, who the hell had checked, who had decided? Who knew so damned much that they were so sure they had Al? If they did have someone or some thing claiming to be his brother right here, how could they be so calmly convinced of it?
He gripped the newly acquired items with increasing force. He was the one, the only one, the only person who could make that call. He was the only person left in this world who could identify Al, his only next of kin, dead or alive. So they were distracting him with guesses, lies, careless misunderstandings…this was important, this was life, his brother's life, this was everything, how the fuck could they dare to be so careless and make that kind of judgment?
He was crushing the pad fiercely now, and the automail made the pen creak in its unnatural grip.
When he looked up, the rage that was building in his chest showed clearly on his face. It took the doctor aback, and the Major stepped in closer.
"Ed." Gansworth was wary, taking a defensive stance. "You look very angry right now."
Ed's eyeballs rolled up into his head as he struggled to summon the composure to respond in words. The Major reached out tentatively and nearly touched the pen before he jerked it away and locked it down close to his body in a tight grip.
"I…am…angry," he growled through clenched teeth. "You don't know anything!"
"Tell me what it is that…"
"You ruin everything!" he screamed, loud enough to make them flinch away. The Major was expecting sedation, a call to action. But the doctor held his ground and replied calmly.
"I don't mean to. I don't intend to make you angry. I don't intend to ruin anything. You have to tell me what I'm doing wrong, Edward."
"This! This! You believe this?" He dropped his head to focus his murderous glare on the pad, shaking it inches from the wire-rimmed spectacles. "You expect me to believe this?"
"I asked you to write a note."
"You're the one who decides? What do you know? How the hell do you know?"
"Decides what, Edward?"
"You don't know, you don't fucking know anything!"
"Then explain it to me. Tell me so I'll know. So I don't make this mistake again, what ever it is, that has you so upset."
"You're an idiot. You just…I'll write your note, your fucking note, your stupid note, you take it, and you give to whoever, or whatever, or damn what I don't know, because you don't know, you don't know!" He held the pen like a dagger in his fist, digging furrows into the paper, ripping a ragged 'AL' at the top, slashing a sideways 'ED' at the bottom. He slammed the pen and pad flat into the doctor's chest before the Major could intervene; but Gansworth stayed calm, just rocking back slightly with the blow, catching the pen and just missing the falling pad as Ed pulled his hands away.
Ed jerked back in surprise, gasping at his own impulsive action. He gaped at his hands, shocked at losing physical control, possession of the all-important pen, his momentum, and train of thought all at once.
"Ah, shit! Shit! What's happening, what the hell am I doing?" he wailed. "How did you get in my head? What are you trying to do to me?"
Gansworth bent warily to retrieve the pad and slid both items in his deep coat pocket before straightening to follow Ed as he backed away.
"I'm not trying to do anything to you, Edward. Let's slow down now. You're trying to get your bearings, isn't that right? Things got a little shaky and you need to get focused on where you are and what's around you right now. There's nothing wrong with that."
The Major was impressed with the doctor's tenacity, and relieved that he hadn't resorted to medication as a first reaction. He was ready to jump in, but so far Gansworth was handling things quite capably.
Ed's automail came a bit too far forward and Armstrong nearly intervened, suppressing his reaction in favor of waiting for the doctor's direction.
Gansworth's hand hovered, just shy of touching the clenched automail, letting Ed make his own decision.
"You don't want to hurt anyone. You're very upset right now. Use words, tell me what you're feeling, what you want."
Ed jerked back, gripping his own head in a desperate attempt to stop the world from breaking apart all around him.
"Get away! Get back! Stop it! You piss me off!" Ed rasped on the verge of hyperventilating.
"And I ask you again, Ed, how did I do that?"
"You jerk, you made me…you made me eat peanuts! And write on paper! With a pen!" he screamed, so loud and out of control that spittle flew and Gansworth reached one hand into his pocket for the medication, bringing up the other in a signal to the Major.
At the end of that angry accusation, Ed spun to face away. As his body turned, it drooped oddly, a sudden change from the stiff fury that had been reaching worrisome heights. With an odd bark of noise he dropped straight down to sit smack on floor without making any effort to break the fall. Legs splayed out straight in front of him, his whole body started shaking.
Everything went blank and weightless - his mind, the room, the voices inside and outside of his head - and sent him spinning blindly into a safe warm void, lofting him up in a tummy-tickling ride that had no sense of time or place. Sensations of motion and a soft, silly quality insulated him from everything else. Like a roller-coaster, it was harmless fun. In fact, it was so funny, it was almost painful. Fully immersed, he scarcely perceived his own unfiltered reactions, his physical body abandoned to the care of those still standing over him in the troublesome real world.
When the two worried men moved closer, he flopped back, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. It startled them to see his expression. He was grinning and laughing mutely, open-mouthed, his gasping for air the only sound. It emphasized the dull report as he began rhythmically rapping the back of his head against the floor.
"Oh boy," Gansworth breathed, shaking his head. The anger was something that could be dealt with. But this was more complicated. The bizarre reaction demonstrated just how important it was to have an attendant in place around the clock. One moment he was interacting, and the next he was slipping out of control and out of touch, blind to his surroundings. "Come on, Ed, let's not do this on the hard floor."
The Major stepped in to help gather him up and get him on the bed, pushing him back down gently when he tried to roll off or get up, waiting for ebb and flow of the mild hysterics to pass. By the time it ran its course, Ed was somber and quiet, dazed and unsure of what was happening.
"You're all right, Edward. Just stay where you are and relax," Gansworth said. Since he'd quieted down on his own, there had been no pressing need to tranquilize him, and he wanted to keep it that way.
Ed had the vague impression of waking up from a fever mid-day. The doctor hovered so close that the white coat kept brushing against him, but he wasn't asking any questions, and the Major wasn't prompting him to get up and do his exercises. He felt worn out, even though he could swear he'd just slept for hours and hours. Maybe he was sick again, that was a discouraging thought. Sometimes it seemed like he was going to be sick forever. His stomach did hurt, so that was probably it.
"I can't be flat anymore, even if I am sick," Ed sighed. The way they were watching him, he must have had some pretty bad dreams. A touch of grateful relief passed through him that he couldn't recall any of the nightmares at all this time. The decapitation one had been plaguing him the last few days, and that one always made him feel creepy long after it would send him bolting up from bed.
"Are you feeling ill?" Gansworth asked softly, helping him up. "Do you feel a bit calmer now?"
A confused look crossed his scarred face. He slogged through his brain for a reply. The pause grew long enough that the doctor tried again.
"Let me ask you this. Can you tell me what just happened? Anything?"
Nothing helpful came to mind; he didn't know what event the question referred to and he balked at asking for an explanation. With no answer, he shook his head said nothing. He watched them watch him with mild interest.
Lieutenant Havoc eased up to the doorway, a little apprehensive at the quiet. The Major stepped out to take his I.D.; he wasn't sure if they wanted him to even attempt to bring in food at this point. He was toting broth, toast and a thinly-sliced apple; upon inspection, Gansworth deemed it innocuous enough to offer.
Ed watched Havoc's arrival with open interest, although he moved abruptly to keep a watchful eye on the tray as it traveled through the room and came to rest on the counter.
Gansworth didn't stop Ed from rising and groping past him for Havoc. His motions were tentative until he touched the soldier's arm farthest from the tray and snagged it, pulling the Lieutenant away from the suspect item and sidling until they were both back nearly to the door.
"Whoa, hey, buddy, where're we going so soon?" Havoc asked in feigned amusement.
"To…to…your room." The idea popped out of his mouth as it popped into his head. He squirreled around until he was between Havoc and the wall, holding onto the back of his coat. "Just leave that there and we'll go."
"You want to go to my room? I'm sorry, Ed, but I don't have a room here."
"You…you're sure?"
"I'm sure. What's up, buddy? What's wrong with just staying here?"
He felt as much as heard Ed's low moan of frustration, and the boy's weight slumped slightly against his back. "Where do you go then? I can…I can go with you."
The soldiers looked to the doctor nearly in unison, seeking direction.
"We can discuss that," Gansworth nodded agreeably, humoring him with no real intent of letting him go anywhere. This impromptu session had surpassed any beneficial level of stressful provocation long ago. To hit him with anything that might further alienate or upset him was irresponsible. It was time to rein him back into the secure doldrums of his present situation. "There are a number of steps that we need to take to prepare a request to leave the building. We can work through them if you decide that you want to have an outing with the Second Lieutenant."
Ed went silent, clinging to the broad back. Havoc tried turning slightly, in an attempt get eye contact, but there was no play in the grip. The increase in pressure indicated that he should stay put.
Havoc was confused, but played along. There didn't seem to be any sense in letting Ed leave with him; his quarters were in the housing adjacent to the base, and security there was pretty much self-serve.
Not to mention he hadn't shoveled the place out in way too long. The ashtrays alone…nope, whatever Gansworth was up to, he doubted that it involved actually granting Ed's impulsive request.
"Come here so we can talk about it?" the doctor said softly. "Tell me exactly what it is that you want."
It was a struggle to sort out an explanation from the raw instinct to get under Havoc's protective influence and get away from the disturbing pressure of their session. It helped that his mental functions were starting to improve, warming up with all of the interaction and motion. Protectively placed behind Havoc and solidly against the wall, the need for high alert was fading, along with the cognitive demands that went with it.
Soon his hands were just resting on the expanse of blue material, and he stared at it as he tried to absorb what the doctor said.
So, if he knew where he wanted to go then there was just some kind of approval process and then it would be okay. He was kind of shocked that they would just let me him leave. He had all these problems, and the I.V. still, and he was supposed to stay here. Being confined wasn't what normal people would put up with so that should have been a pleasant surprise, but it wasn't. The hint of freedom felt dangerous and scary, and the idea that he might be expected to leave before he was ready ghosted across the back of his mind, too paralyzing to contemplate directly.
Havoc felt like a brick wall. Leaving with him, to go hide where he hides, revealed itself for the flawed reasoning that it was. A big, capable career soldier like that probably didn't have a hiding place. He probably had no need to hide at all.
The altercation with Gansworth continued to slowly seep back into his awareness. He wasn't sure how it had come to this point; the world had gone all fuzzy when he'd stopped yelling and the next thing he knew he was waking up moments ago.
The note. All this started over a note.
It seemed that they were watching him closely because he had disobeyed when the doctor wanted him to write to Al. He wasn't sure if he understood what that meant. It was like they were trying to find out some secret from him, but he didn't know what that might be. If he knew how to reach his brother he would have been doing it already. They wouldn't have to trick him into revealing that knowledge.
Everyone was waiting for his next move - that much became obvious - and with a clearer grip on the moment, he finally figured out that he was in a ridiculous position with a roomful of people watching him like hawks over nothing.
What kind of person would he be if he knew how to reach Al and simply hadn't tried? It occurred to him that he did have a right to be angry at them for thinking that. It took a lot of effort to sort things out enough to talk about them, and if they were going to piss him off, he wasn't going to do what they wanted just because they asked.
"Not gonna," he muttered.
"I'm sorry that this has been such a difficult session, Edward. I'd really like to hear your thoughts right now. I think that it's important, and I think it will be helpful in the long run."
Ed frowned and let Havoc go, watching with embarrassment at just how slowly and cautiously they were moving around him right now; acting like he was some easily frightened animal.
The rise of impatience with his own frailties drove him to square his shoulders and speak up.
"How come I'm the only one who has to talk? You answer my questions first!"
The bold, clear tone caught the soldiers by surprise.
Gansworth took it in stride. He had more of a feel for the range of thought processes Ed tumbled through in his various stages of lucidity and awareness; in fact, this was precisely the direction he was angling for with the benevolent offer to further plan and negotiate a field trip with the Second Lieutenant. The proposal of planning a real-life activity with real-life considerations was bound to stimulate the boy's logical thinking. Ed had a strong inclination to try and handle practical life issues whenever he could see them clearly enough. While doing so, his emotional state tended to be much more orderly and reasonable.
Earlier, this would not have been possible, Ed was far too touchy and defensive. But the pendulum had made its way back to calmer waters in the aftermath of the small breakdown.
"Certainly. I'm always willing to discuss anything with you that you'd like. I'll be happy to give you answers, as best as I can give them."
"Is there really a way for you to give that note to my brother? One you know about?" Ed stood with his fists clenched and jaw jutting out; he looked fierce again. Whether angry or just determined, it was difficult to say.
"There is."
"You think he's alive."
"I have seen him and I know that he is very much alive."
"Then…are you saying…he's near here?"
"Correct," he said, a little slower to respond. This was heading into hard territory and they needed to be winding things down. "We'll be talking about that next time, in as much detail as you like. How does that sound?"
"Is he…" For a moment, Ed's voice broke. "is he safe?"
"I assure you that he is safe and very well cared for. You needn't worry about that."
"I don't believe you. Why isn't he here, then? Why haven't I seen him?"
"Well, that's a little more complicated. Your condition…"
"No!" Ed bowed his head, tension making ropes of the veins in his neck. "I'm asking about Alphonse. I don't want to hear about my condition."
"You have seen him, Edward. I only refer to your condition because it's the reason that meeting with him was highly disturbing to you, and the reason that you don't seem to remember it. There was concern that one or both of you might get hurt."
"That's bullshit!" Ed snapped. "Look at me. I couldn't hurt him even if I tried!"
"That might have been true before, but he's a boy of flesh and blood now and quite vulnerable, remember? That was part of the issue. You couldn't be certain of his identity."
Ed waivered, outrage slightly deflected. Maybe he remembered something like that.
"So he's just somewhere doing something, like…like…""
"He's waiting. He understands. And because he understands, he waits, and will continue to wait until we can determine a time that is in your best interest, and his as well. Our concern is with well-being for the both of you. "
"Have you seen him, too?" Ed asked abruptly. The two soldiers had been suspiciously stiff and silent.
At the marked hesitation, Ed caught them looking to Gansworth for direction.
"No! Don't look at him, damn it! Tell me the truth!"
"They will," Gansworth assured. It would be best if they could stop this line of questioning now, but handled the wrong way, Ed would likely become enraged again. "Go ahead, gentlemen."
Havoc swallowed, waiting for his turn as Armstrong replied.
"Your brother is indeed alive and well, Edward. I have seen him. And I know that he is waiting here for the sole purpose of seeing you."
Ed's hands sought Havoc again, but they slid as he stumbled back. The taller blond caught his elbow and eased him over to sit on the bed.
"You're going to tell me that you've seen him, too?" he breathed.
Havoc nodded. "I've probably seen him more than anyone else does. He really is here."
Ed doubled over, holding his elbows and rocking back and forth. "But if he is, what does he think?"
"He's expressed very positive thoughts about seeing you again. Let's not worry about…" Gansworth began.
"If he is, I can't be making him wait. But he wouldn't wait. Why would he wait? I wouldn't. I 'd just, I'd just…Right here? But I didn't. I mean, I did. No. I should…I should…" he shook his head with a frustrated groan. "I should go out there and find him. Why didn't I do that already? "
"Maybe we can work on that."
"I don't know. I don't know if I can, what if I can't?" Coward! he accused himself, baffled at the melee of mixed feelings when there should only be dedication and determination to get back to his little brother and make things right for him.
"Just a few minutes ago you were ready to go with Lieutenant Havoc to his quarters, even though you didn't know where they were. You'll get there, we just need to be patient and take things one step at a time."
"What? No, I don't know about that. I don't know what that was. Shut up, that doesn't have anything to do with anything!"
"All right, all right, let's calm down now, I think we're going a little too fast."
"You stop throwing shit at me when I'm trying to think! Damn it!"
"I'm sorry. Let's just take a step back, take a little break. This might not be the time to start working on such an important subject."
"I'm not done yet!"
"Of course. I understand. We're not quite done. Just taking it down a bit. If you'd like to continue, I think we can both benefit from a slower pace, that's all. We won't stop until we've discussed everything you feel like talking about."
Ed nodded sharply without offering a response.
Gansworth kept right on talking to keep him engaged but not provoked, a droning sort of monologue that urged patience and cooperation to increase the certainty that things would work out for everyone in due time.
Havoc picked up on the doctor's tactics. The words were secondary; the man was lulling Ed with a boring monotone, keeping their connection open without setting off his defenses, desensitizing the conversation and redirecting it so that it became more theoretical. It almost begged for interruption.
The words sailed past as Ed struggling with guilt and frustration at his inability to simply stand up and walk out to meet his brother; it would have been easier if his caretakers were trying to stop him. The implication that he had been free to do so all along was devastating.
He didn't really believe it was possible. Yet he felt as guilty about not acting on it as if it was a well-known fact. Nothing added up. Nothing.
If they thought that this would distract him from finding out the truth, they were dead wrong. If he asked enough questions, he could arrive at his own conclusions.
"How bad did they hurt him once he got back in his body?" he challenged.
Gansworth only skipped the half-beat it took to stop in mid-sentence and take a new breath before replying.
"Keep in mind that Alphonse has been with us here since the two of you retrieved his body. They never touched him at all."
Ed's brows furrowed. In his muddied memory, the soul-searing impact of his brother's screaming was sharp and clear. Someone had hurt him. And he had fought to defend him.
"Then, who did? Who hurt him?"
"No one hurt your brother. Since he's been here, he did get a slight wound from a small animal, but it's all healed up and he's fine. Nothing to worry about. No person has harmed him in the least."
Now I know they're lying somehow, Ed grimaced inwardly. He turned and inhaled deeply with his face touching Havoc's sleeve to confirm who was treating him this way. His own people. And yet, for some reason, they were lying.
He lifted his head and feigned agreement, hoping to look reasonable and composed. He needed the fail-safe. He needed the pen in case all of this was some trick to stop him from trading his life for Al's.
"I should write to him properly, then. Right? That would be the thing to do."
Ed's hand came out, just barely, open and waiting.
Gansworth gave him back the pad and pen, growing a little more concerned. The open give-and-take of their interaction was gone. For whatever reason, the door had closed, and Ed was acting as a loner once more. They were back to square one, with another pathetic attempt to get the pen, implying that for all of their discussion, the troubled young man was once again arriving at self-sacrifice as the solution to his problems.
"You can ask him yourself if you like, Edward. In writing is fine. You can write whatever you choose to. You can ask how he feels, and you can tell him how you feel. You should. It's important that the two of you communicate."
Ed clutched the paper and tried to quiet his racing thoughts. He went to write but his hand went heavy and refused to cooperate. He fumbled with switching hands, getting the pad to rest on his thigh and wedging the pen in the automail grip.
How I feel? I just want this device so that I can make my transmutation circles. I just want to have the answer, without asking any more questions. I don't know what to write to make it look like I'm doing what he asks. That's too hard. I don't know what a normal person would write. I can't remember what being normal is like. Trying to imagine it makes me dizzy and sick and it feels like I'm slipping and falling off a cliff. I can't do it. But I have to try.
It made him suddenly, almost irresistibly exhausted when he bent to start again. His head drooped and the world started to get fuzzy; he kept forgetting to breathe while reaching way deep inside, hoping to connect with some semblance of stability.
A voice, accusing and harsh, rang in his head. "Brother!"
Ed startled hard. Al's disembodied voice was terrifying, and that feeling was so confusing he could barely maintain a steady front.
He resorted to making frantic little squares on the pad, afraid of blanking out if he tried to think of real words again. After the limited space was full, he stopped, at a loss for what to do next.
"Are you finished? May I see what you've written?" Gansworth asked.
"It's personal, it's personal!" Ed shot back, hiding the pad against his chest. "I'm not done! I need to think more. I'm gonna keep this and work on it later!"
Gansworth was one step ahead of him.
"I'm sorry, Edward, but I'm afraid not. Patients aren't allowed to have writing instruments in their possession; nothing personal, it's just a safety policy. Besides, I need that to sign off on my charts. But if you're serious about this, maybe I can stretch the rules enough to provide you with larger paper and a wax crayon. It may be a bit awkward, but it would do the job. Is that something you'd like? "
A crayon wouldn't make a decent mark on his body; it would not be sufficient to create the multiple complex transmutation circles. Confronted with the uselessness of his attempt, Ed let the pad and pen fall to the floor and covered his face with his hands instead.
"You ruin everything," he mouthed silently.
Gansworth secured the items with a troubled glance at the nonsense inked there. Although he didn't trust Ed enough to let him keep the pen, he had thought that the boy was more functional than this.
The pen was giving his young patient fits. He wanted it so badly, but once he had it, perhaps it was so provoking that he couldn't control his behavior well enough to hang on to it. It was likely an indication of just how unsure Edward was of his situation, and especially that of his brother's. There was more than a grain of potential worth in Mustang's bullheaded insistence that the boys would derive more benefit from being together than they would harm.
Things were more or less stable at the moment. Ed was slowing down, unhappy perhaps, but quiet about it. He was making small, startled motions at irregular intervals when he caught himself dropping off into sleep. It took a determined fellow to still be upright at this point, Gansworth judged. From the handful of hysterical fits that he had witnessed in his career, they weren't much different than a seizure in that they left the victim exhausted and off-balance for some time afterward. Now that it was easier to hear, the young man's breathing was starting to sound a little rough and slightly congested. No doubt his immune system was being taxed from the constant stress. Time to start him back on antihistamines before complications developed.
Another subtle switch had taken place and Ed was focused on the Major, tossing up questions but quietly now, as if he had forgotten to inquire. Did Al sleep now? On a bed? Did he eat? Was he well? What color was his hair? His eyes? Was he tall? How much did he weigh?
Armstrong took notice, moving in closer and patiently delivering reassuring answers while coaxing Ed back down to rest. He felt considerable relief that the doctor seemed to be all through with his monumentally aggravating visit. So far, he had been able to reconnect with Ed after these sessions, no matter how disturbing or estranging they became. But there was always that chance that the doctor would hit nerves and uncover memories that would push the boy out of his reach.
That certainly wasn't the case now. Ed maneuvered himself against the steely upper torso of the worried alchemist as soon as the man sat down on the edge of the bed, and buried his head into the folds of uniform in an attempt to find a spot he wasn't likely to slip out of if he fell asleep. The Major settled in for the duration, gladly fulfilling his role as safety net once more.
Ed felt like it was getting a little clearer now. The pen and the self-transmutation were incredibly attractive because it was so simple and final. It made for a neat little path out of the writhing, senseless insanity corrupting every thought process and every attempt to negotiate the booby-trapped rat maze of his memories.
It wasn't simple, and it wasn't the answer. The question wasn't even the same any more at this point. As much as distrust was a part of his very soul now, he couldn't help believing that the Major wouldn't lie, and neither would Havoc. They actually had someone in custody that they thought was Al. This person's described physical traits all matched Al's, and the Major only saw the suit of armor, so he couldn't simply make it all up. This revelation trumped all the other wildly diverse paths he'd been considering to recover Alphonse.
The blue cloth was warm, and the rumbling rise and fall of the Major's chest was such a comforting motion to lean against. Someone so strong and aware shouldn't be fooled easily.
There was that one recurring dream among the many, or at least, he had thought that it was a dream, where he had unearthed Al and helped open the gate. The head-splitting rush of pure knowledge, the transactions with Al's body, and a fight between them might really have happened. That patch of clarity in the midst of insanity might have been a function of the influence of the Gate - not the imagination of REM sleep.
Armstrong suddenly felt real, in a way that was impossible to explain, and the room had meaning in a way it had not up until now - as a real place physically existing in a familiar geographical location. The moments had the sensation of present tense, a feeling of knowing the time of day and season of the year.
The experience of unremarkable, normal perception was shocking. It was so far removed from the way he existed now that he barely recognized it for what it was. It didn't last very long, and when it faded he made no effort to sustain it. It blinked out completely when the Major's careful application of salve to his shoulder riled up the pain and new priorities took over. The monumentally important sighting of his 'normal' self was assigned low priority over self-preservation by the instincts running the show.
The subject of his brother pushed away, too, and he had little to contemplate but the pain and the sensation of the material of the coat, giving him an anchor to cling to while his overtaxed mind and body called it quits in the fight against sleep.
The doctor stepped back to polish his glasses and observe. It was impossible to tell if this impromptu session had been progress or just more painful muddling about. Only time would tell. Torn between so many urgencies, this was becoming a killer job. From the last report, he should have just enough time to fit in an hour or so with Alphonse before the automail mechanic and the corpses arrived.
He nearly forgot that the Colonel had been with him when he went to Ed's room earlier. There was no sign of him in the hall now. Where the hell had he gone, without saying anything? The man was a superior officer, and he did take more than the usual interest in the well-being of his men, but he certainly was aggravating to work with at times.
The whole place was mad as a hatter, and he wasn't feeling like an exception to that rule at the moment.
The walk was too brief but it was all the prep time he could afford, a little time to shift gears and remember the important points to go over with the younger Elric. His hand brushed the bent pad in his pocket, contemplating the possible reactions should he actually deliver the rudimentary note to its addressee.
Keep it simple, keep it honest, convey the facts. Take the feedback, answer the questions, lay down the ground rules. Provide structure and stability. Watch for aberrations and avoid confrontation, especially with this patient, who is still plagued with sudden, uncontrollable bouts of rage and violent behavior.
Out of time, he straightened his coat and nodded to Al's current guard, ready to submit to the security process for what seemed like the the millionth time.
xxxxxxx
"I would like to discuss something with you before we move on into session, Alphonse," Gansworth smiled, surprising himself with his own collected calm. Moments ago he'd felt a little breathless, hustling here and knowing that the day still had worse thing in store. But entering the boy's captive area brought him into the moment soundly. This required his full concentration.
Alphonse appeared to be calm and ready for his session. He always tried to cooperate when he was in control and capable of it. He was what Dr. Gansworth would have considered to be the quintessential "good boy". It made the PTSD that much harder on him; his guilt from the inability to make himself straighten up and fly right was enormous. It made it that much harder to present him with stressors, when what he needed most was the opportunity to gather his life back up without any further trauma.
Life was, of course, not at all ready to give any of them a break for long.
"Before?" Al puzzled.
"Yes, well…actually, I'm fairly certain that this will pre-empt most of it."
Al nodded warily.
"You 're going to have a visitor. I'm telling you this ahead of time so that you can prepare yourself. Now, wait, don't jump to conclusions. Hear me out."
"Who?"
"She's your friend and Edward's automail mech-"
"Winry!" Al gasped. "Winry, Winry's here?"
"She's not here now, but she will be very soon."
"She's going to be here?" His heart was pounding wildly with emotions that threatened to erupt in all directions. In near-panic he struggled to get a grip on them. This was wonderful and devastating and potentially awful. They weren't supposed to be upsetting her, yet they were forever dragging her though the worst of their melodramas. He should think of some way to spin this before he had to face her, some way to convince her that they were fine and she shouldn't worry.
He had no idea how he would do that. Cowardly as it was, his strongest gut reaction to the news of her visit was the desperate hope that she was coming to save him. Them. Hell, his first reaction didn't even take Ed into account.
He took it as another sign that he was still devolving into something that didn't really deserve to be saved.
"How much does she know? About us? And this?"
"I would guess she knows the basic turns of events. I do know that she was to be told about the unfortunate situation while you were lost."
"Oh…" Al grimaced. She was going be upset, then. She would be anxious to see that they were all right. It was only natural.
"I'm not sure how to handle this, Alphonse. I have a task at hand and I won't be available for some time. Miss Rockbell will be here and I dislike delaying your reunion, but it's important that we address any issues that come up if the visit is too unsettling. I can give you a choice. You can take a single dose of your calmative medication, and Lieutenant Havoc can supervise; or, you can wait until I have a chance to sit in on your first meeting."
"No, please, don't make me wait. I'll do whatever you say. Just, please…I want to see her right away."
"You should do well enough if you take your medication. What are your initial impressions? What do you envision for this visit? More importantly, how do you feel about hearing this right now?"
Al stared back, shaking his head. "Overwhelmed. I can't believe it. It's like the world just reappeared outside of this place."
"And is that good?"
"Well, yeah! Except…" Al was still shaking his head.
"Except?"
"It feels so…I just suddenly feel so much pressure. I'm really going to have to be careful."
"Careful of what?"
"Well, we agreed. Ed and I. We weren't going to make her worry, or cry. We were supposed to make the world sa…" he choked up, then took a deep breath. "We were supposed to make the world safe for everyone. For her, especially. Ridiculous, right? It was stupid to believe that we could actually pull that off. The world crushed us without missing a beat. And now things are worse than ever."
"Is that how you see it? Please, Alphonse, go on."
"So now I…I mean this is great news, great news! But, well, I have to think of what to say to her. I have to think fast, I have to act normal. I mean, I can't do anything about Brother. It's going to upset her so much to see him. But at least I can make sure that she doesn't have to worry about me ."
"Well, the medication will help you to appear to feel better than you do. I hope that you'll reconsider the rest, though. Your friend is coming into this situation with her eyes open. Being honest is a type of kindness, even if the information you convey is not pleasant. You may have forgotten that she saw Edward when his life was still in grave danger, and that she was still able to deal with his medical issues and perform capably as his bio-mechanic. You may want to consider whether you're being fair when you predetermine that she needs to be sheltered. Especially when it involves deceit."
"I'm still gonna try my hardest. I'm not gonna blubber all over her if I can help it."
"Is that how it feels, then? Like you might cry when you see her?"
Al blushed. "Yeah. It feels like I could start right now. I mean this is good, it's really good, but it's like a shock, I'm freaking out. And what is that, that's lower than dirt. It's so weak and childish. It's probably Ed she came to see anyway. Here I'm getting all worked up and it's supposed to be about Ed. She's coming about his automail, right? Gah, I'm so pathetic."
"Just listen a moment. First, let me apologize, I know that this is indeed a shock to you, even if it is good news. I'm sorry this is coming at you so suddenly. Don't beat yourself up because you're experiencing anxiety. It's a perfectly normal reaction."
"Second, she's definitely coming to see you, as well as to see Edward and address those automail issues you pointed out. I want you to realize that right now, right at this moment, you're jumping around to a lot of conclusions. Now, that's understandable given the circumstances. But we've discussed many times how your excessive mental activity can work against you. Instead of processing information, you get tangled up in your initial reactions. That's why the medication will be helpful here. So let's get that going now, shall we? You should have an easier time preparing yourself without getting upset. And taking it now will give you a chance to bounce back a bit - if it makes you too drowsy when it first hits, you can have a few minutes to nap before she arrives."
"She'll be here that soon?" It was all the prompting he needed; the pill was swallowed as soon as it was placed in his hand.
"Yes. Very soon. Are you all right with this now? We can postpone it if you need more time."
"No, no I'm okay." Al nodded, squaring his shoulders, determined to suck it up.
"Drink all of the water, please. The medication is harder on your kidneys if you don't hydrate sufficiently."
"Heh. Sometimes I forget you're a 'doctor' doctor, too. Until you say things like that."
After retrieving the empty water bottle, Gansworth sighed, steeling himself before handing Al the ragged note.
"What is this?"
"Ed's first attempt at a note to you. It's a therapeutic exercise. But I thought you might want to see it."
"He wrote to me?" Al stared at the abused paper, floored again. "He understands that I'm here now?"
"Not exactly. He wrote this at my direction. He still struggles with the concept of your restoration. This is to familiarize him with the idea that you are indeed here. He was willing to do this much. It's a step in the right direction. And I thought it might help if I showed you some evidence that we are trying. We're still working towards the goal of bringing the two of you back together."
"Can I keep it?" Al asked breathlessly.
"Of course. You may write back, as well. This is going to sound odd, but I'm going to give you a crayon to use for that purpose. It's all that he is allowed to have, so it's better if he sees that you're using the same media. We don't want to highlight the fact that you're less restricted. We did try, but as you can see, he's not gentle with the pen, and it does have somewhat of a potentially dangerous point. He could injure himself with it and it's best if he uses something safer."
"Look, get me a crayon, and I'll write to him. I thought about writing a note to him before. But I didn't think you'd give it to him."
"Just understand that it won't be private and I can't guarantee that I'll be able to give it to him. The content has to be something he can handle. I'll have to make certain before I pass it on. I predict that it will be a shock to him initially, just seeing a word or two and knowing that you wrote it with your own hand. Let's get over that hurdle before you really express yourself."
Al rubbed his face fiercely, irritated in spite of himself at the slight numbing from the medication starting up already. The note was a shock to him so of course it would have even more impact on Ed. This was so much to take in all at once, with such short notice. It was hard to drag his mind away from the vision of Ed, struggling to gouge crude letters into the paper. Ed, who always had a light touch with a pen, feathery near-fussy handwriting, and wickedly accurate drawing skills. You only had to see one of his complex alchemic arrays to realize how amazing his artistry was.
This was no time to be contemplating that, what with Winry arriving at any minute. The doctor was staring at him, waiting for him to carry on a conversation about this; maybe to distract him, maybe to kill time. He had to focus, though. If he couldn't interact properly, the doctor would make him wait, and that would be unbearable.
He directed his concentration on the practical side of their meeting. Gansworth would be leaving before she got here. If he slipped, if his self-control didn't hold up, the only one who knew him well enough to intervene in time was Havoc.
"You said the Lieutenant would be here."
"He will be. I'll make sure he's here before I leave."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Al, I want you to put your hands down now and unclench them. Open them up. Let's go into your self-relaxation exercise."
"Not now!" he snapped irritably.
"Yes. Especially now. We're going to start with the breathing."
Al was up and across the room, leaning out of the doorway to scan the empty hall.
"Al. Come back and sit down. I know you're feeling a lot of anxiety right now. If you expect me to allow this visit now, I need to see better self-control."
"Eh!" Al growled, stomping and plopping down while biting back a retort. The feeling of being jerked on a chain riled up considerable anger. If this guy tried to leave before the Lieutenant got here, he'd…he'd…
"Alphonse. Remember the process. Information is just information. The impact comes when you react to what you hear. You have control. It's vital that you learn how to manage your reactions so that you aren't causing harm to yourself or others." He was relieved to see his patient exhale and avert his eyes. Without the Lieutenant in the room, Al was capable of becoming quite a handful, even though his physical recovery was far from complete.
"I know! I know!"
"Thank you. As soon as you're ready, we'll go through the steps." Gansworth checked his watch and frowned, listening for Havoc's much-needed return. He sincerely hoped that Ms. Rockbell's emotional composition was as sturdy as the Colonel described it.
tbc