Bang.
Roy startled awake, sending a landslide of papers to the floor.
Golden eyes glared at him from across the coffee table, crutch smacking against the table leg once more for good measure with another sharp crack.
"Have you two idiots been at this all night?" Ed demanded, turning back around to send a withering look at Alphonse, who was in the process of peeling a loose leaf of paper off his cheek.
Roy stretched, feeling his back ache in protest. Clearly sleeping sprawled across the couch didn't agree with him. His desk at the office was much more comfortable. "Not all night. We fell asleep at some point."
"What time is it?" Alphonse asked, a hint of urgency in his tone.
"Almost noon. I already took my medication, so you can go ahead and curb that particular panic attack," Ed informed.
Alphonse almost looked abashed. "Sorry, Brother, I'll go make you some breakfast—"
"You will not," Ed snapped, sounding a bit more irritated than Roy felt was warranted. "I don't need a sitter, Al. I already made my own breakfast." On that particular note, Ed pushed past his brother and started his slow limp to the back porch, slamming the door shut behind him.
Roy frowned, watching him through the window as he wavered, even with his crutch to help him balance, and sent a look at Alphonse.
The younger brother stared after Ed, looking a bit hurt and a bit confused. After a moment, he finally sighed and got to his feet, starting the process of organizing and straightening piles of research.
Piles of research that had gotten them nowhere.
Both of them had stayed up well into the night, both trying to apply Al's theory in a practical sense, but both came up short. Roy couldn't make it work, but he wasn't ready to call it quits yet. They just needed . . . something. Another angle, another view. They were close.
"I'll go make us something," Alphonse said after a moment, stretching and heading to the kitchen.
Roy sent one more glance out the back window, but Ed was nowhere in sight.
Roy yawned and followed Al, a bit slow and a bit stiff after his sleeping arrangements. He was getting too old to sleep like that.
It was either a bed or a desk from now on.
XxXxX
Ed hobbled down the dirt road, his body already exhausted and he'd only been at it less than half an hour.
Was it just last year that he had been able to sprint from his house to Winry's?
The strain bothered his lungs, making them spasm painfully. Not wanting to encourage a fit, he pulled over to the side under the shade of an old red oak, leaning heavily against the fence as he tried to regulate his respiration.
His gaze wondered out to the surrounding pastures. The afternoon sky was a brilliant blue, stretching out of sight past green and gold hills. Flowers waved in the wind as far as the eye could see, white, blue and yellow specks against a sea of grass. A strong, cool breeze blew in from the north, big puffy clouds on the horizon and the ache in his side promising a storm before the day was through.
Ed would never get tired of this view. It was almost enough to soothe his black mood.
He'd seen Al's research that morning. He'd gotten up early, unable to sleep, and stumbled into the living room to find his brother and former commanding officer dead to the world. Instead of waking them up immediately, curiosity got the better of him. He had to look.
He regretted it.
He saw Al's theory, how it was sound in principle, but impossible in execution. Ed may have lost his ability to use alchemy, but he still had a sound and comprehensive knowledge of it. His encounters with Truth had left him an almost transcendent understanding of it, and he could tell by looking that soul-alchemy was a dead end. He was more disappointed than he thought he'd be.
More than that, he was angry.
He wasn't sure who at, or why, but . . . he was.
But he didn't want to think about that now. He wanted to see Winry. Soon, he would be wheelchair bound, or worse, confined to bed, and he would be all but unable to visit this quiet stretch of country road alone. Who knew how many more times he'd be able to walk to Winry's house? He wanted to take advantage while he could.
After a while, his breathing returned to what might pass as normal, and once more he set off.
Ed wasn't sure how long it took him, but when he finally saw the bright yellow house with the green trim, he was relieved. Everything ached, and his coughing had soaked halfway through another handkerchief. The thought of getting off of his feet for a while spurred him onward.
He took the stairs slowly, dragging his automail leg up each step until he managed to get to the deck. His wheezing cued the coughing and he leaned against the railing, trying to rein it in. He didn't want Winry to see him like that.
His watery gaze was drawn to the hill just across the meadow. Charred wood and stone poked from the ground like rotting teeth, gray and ashen and solemn, a monument to Ed's past. Grass and weeds had long-since overtaken the scene, slowly returning the ruins to the earth. Ed hated looking at it. It was a blatant reminder of his own mortality, in a way. If his childhood could burn so easily, then so could his future.
The front door opened, jerking Ed from his morbid musings. Winry stepped out, balancing a potted plant in one arm and a pitcher of water in the other. When she saw Ed, she blinked in surprise. "Edward?!"
Winry was the most beautiful woman Ed had ever seen, with her sky-blue eyes and blonde hair and pale skin from too many hours inside bent over automail, but it wasn't all in her looks. She had a strength to her that Ed found acutely fascinating, and Ed may have been a genius, but Winry could talk circles around him about automail and the human nervous system, and to be perfectly blunt, that was just hot.
Of course, Ed didn't used to think like that. How could he, when she'd practically been a sister to him? But over time, things changed, and she became something more than that.
Something Ed didn't want to lose.
Ed offered a grin. "Hey, Winry. Trying to garden again?"
Winry set her plant and pitcher on the ledge and wrapped her arms around him, lips pressing hard against his. Ed blinked in surprise, but kissed back anyway, certain he tasted like blood while she tasted like summer.
She pulled back after a long second with a glare. "Shut up about my gardening."
"The dead tomatoes speak for themselves."
"Edward Elric, I will push you off this deck right here, right now."
"I'll just take you with me."
"Fine," she said, straightening in mock indignation, her left hand brushing dirt from her coveralls. The light caught on the small silver ring around her fourth finger and Ed marveled once more over how Winry could have said yes to him, even when he was healthy. And now that he wasn't, she still wore it, though they had passed their initial wedding date and had made no plans to reschedule it. "I guess you don't want any of the pie I just made this morning, then?"
"You're a cruel woman, Winry," Ed whined. "What kind?"
"Apple."
"I won't tell Al if you won't."
She laughed, a warm, natural sound. It soothed Ed's previous anger and despair until he almost forgot he was dying at all.
He almost forgot how selfish he was to be here with her like this.
"Why don't you come in?" Winry suggested, taking his hand. "I was about to water some plants, but it might rain."
Ed looked out at the darkening sky. "Good. Better to let nature drown your plants instead of you. Easier that way."
She smacked him on the shoulder with none of her usual temper. She was never rough with him anymore. Oh, she would threaten to take his head off his shoulders with her wrench daily, but she hadn't bludgeoned him with anything in a long time.
Ed had mixed feelings about that, but ignored it for now. "Why are you suddenly so obsessed with gardening, anyway?"
"Gardening is good for the soul," she replied sagely. "You should try it."
Ed rolled his eyes, but didn't mention the way he had recently started weeding out the back flowerbed by his chair when he thought Al wasn't looking. Winry wasn't the only one with hobbies.
Winry led him into the house, shutting the door behind her. The whole place smelled like pie and a full, smoky smell that had always permeated the Rockbell house. Ed let his eyes wonder the familiar entry way, lingering on the photos tacked to the wall. So many memories in this house.
Funny how impending death could make him so nostalgic.
One photo in particular caught his eye. It was him, Al and Winry at Granny Pinako's funeral last year, dressed in black with forced smiles on their faces. Winry's eyes were watery with tears, and both Al's and Ed's might have been a bit red. Looking at it made Ed ill, so he followed Winry to the kitchen.
"Go ahead and have a seat. I'll grab my toolbox."
"I didn't come here for a tune up, I came for pie," Ed said, but pulled out a chair at the dining room table anyway, sitting heavily on the bright yellow cushion. Honestly, he hurt too much not to.
"Let me look first, then I'll get you some pie," Winry called from the next room over.
Was he even going to be able to make the walk home? Admittedly, there were worse things than getting stranded at Winry's for a few hours, but Al and Mustang were bound to notice his absence sooner rather than later. Not that Ed cared—because he was an adult and could go on a walk if he wanted to without telling anyone, thank you very much—but a worried Al was a crazy Al, and Ed wasn't entirely ready to deal with that.
Claws clacked on the wood floor and Den wondered around the corner. She stopped when she saw him, letting out a quiet "whoof," her tail wagging slowly in recognition.
"Hey, mutt," Ed greeted, holding out a hand to the dog. She hobbled up to him, putting her head in his lap to soak up the attention. Den was an old dog now, her days filled with good food and naps in the sunshine. During the past six months or so she'd lost a lot of her hearing and she didn't get around as well as she used to—though Ed could relate.
Winry set the tool box on the oak table, metal scraping against wood. "I've been doing some research."
"Oh?"
"I think I can reduce the weight of this leg even more by removing a lot of the plating. It won't look as pretty, but it'll let you keep it longer."
Ed didn't hesitate. "Do it, then."
"You can't get it wet, though. You'll have to leave your leg outside when you shower."
Ed nodded. "Fine."
She nodded, shooing Den away and gesturing for Ed's leg. Ed propped the metal limb into the empty chair next to her, watching as she dug around in her toolbox before selecting a screwdriver and attacking the metal plate on his foot. Watching her work was as mesmerizing as watching an expert alchemist construct a circle. She had an enthusiasm and grace to her that went beyond definition, and Ed was content to stare and drink in the sight of her doing something she loved.
"Hey, Ed?"
"Hmm?"
"The Summer Festival is in a couple of weeks," she said offhandedly.
Ed frowned. The Summer Festival was one of those holidays observed almost exclusively by small farming towns in the East. It was made up of contests and food and fireworks, anything a decent holiday needed, but Ed hadn't been since his mom was still alive. "Yeah. What about it?"
"Well . . . if you feel like it, we could go? I've been working on my pie recipe. I thought I could enter it this year. You know, just for fun. Maybe you could enter something, too."
Ed rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Maybe I'll bake a strudel."
"Ed," she growled, pleading tone gone.
"But I'd love to go with you."
How far could he possibly decline in two weeks?
She smiled, her eyes lighting up. "Great! It'll be fun, you'll see!"
Ed shrugged, watching her pop off the plate on his foot and setting to work on the shin plate. He didn't want to mention the fact that he hadn't been in public in months. The whole town knew about the Elrics, and they knew very well that Ed had been the famous Fullmetal Alchemist before retiring. What they didn't know was that he was no longer the teenager running through town with a smug grin and a red coat. He was just a dying young man now, too sick to play the part of "Hero of the People."
A soft rumble drew Ed's attention to the window. Clouds were building, slowly rolling and falling over one another as they drew closer. Ed had been right, there would be a storm today. Just what he needed. Al was going to lose his mind when he found out Ed wasn't at home.
Ed sighed. "I need to call Al."
Winry turned a baleful glare at him. "You didn't."
It was Ed's turn to glare. "What?"
"You didn't leave the house without telling Al, did you?"
Ed stiffened. "I'm an adult," he said defensively. "I can do things like that now." Of course, he had been running off without telling anyone for years now, save Alphonse. It had always ticked Mustang off to no end, which never bothered Ed in the slightest.
"If I could reach my wrench, I would cave your head in," she said with an intense amount of eye contact. "Don't you know how much Al worries about you?!"
"That is exactly why I didn't tell him!" Ed said, being very careful not to start coughing. It would ruin the image he was trying to project. "He'd freak out!"
"You are so stubborn!" She had stopped working on his leg in favor of aggressively gesturing at him with her screwdriver, like she might stab him if given enough incentive. "He'll be more worried now that he can't find you!"
"He might not have even noticed I was gone, so just let me call, woman!" With that, his lungs spasmed and all the air inside of them rushed out. He gasped, hand reaching blindly for the bloodied handkerchief in his pocket to cover up what was coming.
Ed coughed hard enough to see spots, awful wet hacking that soon made him feel entirely too hot. His insides felt like he had inhaled acid, burning enough to make him writhe. He cradled his side, applying pressure to the site in a vain attempt to stop the pain. He wasn't aware of Winry pressing something cold to his forehead until he jerked his head up and almost choked on the cloth. He batted it away roughly—too rough, his mind warned—and went back to trying to breath.
Being entirely unable to catch his breath was a terrifying experience, and though the occasion was becoming more and more frequent, it always freaked him out. Ed did not enjoy the sensation of suffocating on his own fluids, and the panic he felt was animalistic in nature. His body wanted to live, and anything standing in the way was a problem.
Winry said something, but he couldn't make it out. He could feel her rubbing circles on his back. It might have felt good under different circumstances.
It seemed like hours later when he finally calmed enough to just breathe, air coming in with rough, ragged gasps in his raw throat. He slowly wiped the blood from his lips with a shaking hand, folding the blood-soaked cloth in an attempt to find a dry spot. There wasn't one.
He glanced up at Winry. She looked back, blue eyes worried. The side of her shirt was flecked with blood and she held her hand to her side in a funny way.
Ed narrowed his eyes, but he wasn't quite able to speak, only speculate.
"Are you okay?" Winry asked.
Ed nodded, careful not to jostle anything too much. Just breathing hurt, and the pain in his side was something special. If he didn't stop losing his cool, he was going to cough up a lung sooner rather than later.
"I'll call Al, okay? You just rest."
Ed didn't have the strength to argue with her and closed his eyes, listening as she picked up the old rotary phone on the counter to dial.
If I were a decent human being, I'd update every once in a while xD
Clearly this chapter took a while. The lack of outline makes this one tricky, so I may just have to write one lol. I thought I'd enjoy the freedom of it, but I just don't. DOA is just easier to write, and when I'm trying to go back and forth, this is always the one that takes the back seat for that very reason.
So, I'm a moron. I started grad school and am taking nine hours this semester, I'm directing our choir musical at school (cause that's my job xD) which requires after school rehearsals, and then I was offered the part of Marty in "Grease" in our local theater group (I didn't audition. I'm not saying that to brag. I'm saying it so you know I'm not an idiot to audition for a show when I'm so busy lol. But they made me an offer I could not refuse.). I'm having a blast, but the homework and all the rehearsals are slowly driving me mad. The spirit is willing to update these fics, but the body (and mind :'D) are weak. I plan on finishing these, it'll just be slow going. But I'm sure you're all expecting that by now xD
So to make your life easier, I'm going to start adding a really short summary at the end of each chapter, so next time that it's been five months and you don't remember what was going on in the fic, you just have to look back at the last bit of the chapter before and you'll have a recap of previous events. Hopefully that helps you guys out a bit lol. Please keep in mind that I cannot summarize to save my life. Please don't hold it against me :'D
One more shameless plug: you can now find me on Instagram! My username is .x and I post mostly sketches, so come join me :D
Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Drop a review if you have the time, and I'll see you next time!
God Bless,
-RainFlame
XxXxX
Chapter Summary
XxXxX
After stumbling across Al's notes, Ed realizes that Alphonse's theory to heal him is a dead end. Frustrated and depressed, Ed leaves the house without telling Al or Mustang. He goes to see his favorite mechanic and fiancé as a spring storm rolls toward Resembool. There, Winry tells him she can remove all the outward plating of his automail to hopefully slow his automail rejection and invites him to a local festival in two weeks.
After an argument, Ed has another fit. Completely exhausted and with a storm rolling in, Winry convinces Ed to rest while she calls Al to let him know where Ed is.
XxXxX