AGHHHHH I did not mean for this update to be so late!
I know I said in my oct 3 oneshot that I was in the middle of midterms and I wasn't sure if I'd get to updating this until they were over but they've been over for eleven days now and I still didn't do anything *nervous laughter*
And I know I also said I would be updating the tumblr with this chapter but I didn't do that either *further nervous laughter*. But I PROMISE I will do it by the next one. It's important! (To me... I don't know if it's actually helpful or not to my readers lol).
The truth is I've hit some writer's block a page in to chapter 21, and haven't written anything for this story since... oct 6. And I wrote a 20k word twoshot instead (which will be posted eventually lol). But I will never give up on this story! It is my baby and I love it and I have so many ideas for it that just aren't getting out of my brain efficiently right now.
Anywayyyy enjoy chapter 18! In this one we've got some more of Al's issues (which of course bleed into Ed's issues), some protective Winry, and Ed's first experience with real automail!
Ch 18: A Hint of Normal
Resembool receives its first snowfall on the second to last day of November. When the three (or rather, two) kids wake up that morning to flurries in the air and a dusting on the ground, they beg to put off therapy for a day and enjoy their time in the weather.
Pinako tries reasoning with them, reminding Ed he needs every day he can get to finish his rehabilitation on time, but he simply smiles wryly and declares he's good enough to make it even if he skipped twenty days. Pinako isn't too sure about that, but with the infectious confidence on Ed's face, she sighs and relents. Playing outside is still a workout, after all.
…Besides, those kids could always use a day to just be kids.
So, after bundling Ed with extra winter clothes (Yes, Edward, this is all necessary; automail makes it feel colder than it is…) she lets them out of the house.
Resembool gets about four snowfalls a year, usually a couple in December and a couple in January. It's a tad early, being the last week of November, but none of the trio mind. Snow is snow.
…If only there was more of it.
Ed peers up, blinking as snowflakes collect in his eyelashes. It's snowing pretty lightly, and he silently begs the sky to make it fall faster. There's hardly a quarter inch on the ground, the grass still poking up through the white, and that's nowhere near enough to have any kind of substantial fun with.
Winry must sense his train of thought, because her voice pipes up a moment later. "Even if there's not enough for snowballs or forts, it's still fun to be out in, isn't it?"
Ed looks over at her, at the hopeful smile on her face. She wants him to say yes, because she's not sure either. So, he smiles back. "Sure it is. Who doesn't love frozen, six sided water crystals falling from the sky?"
Winry rolls her eyes. "Did you have to say that in science talk?"
Ed laughs, reaching down to grab a fistful of snow and chuck it at her. It's mixed with dirt and breaks apart before it even hits her, but the message gets across. Winry laughs too, and the two of them attempt to throw snow at each other for a couple minutes before they notice Al hasn't joined in any of the activity.
"Hey, Al, what's wrong?" Ed asks, tapping Al's chest plate a couple times.
The ten year old's attention snaps down, seemingly having been lost in thought. "Sorry. I guess… I just never thought about what it would be like to play in the snow and not feel anything…"
Ed and Winry exchange a glance, before Ed steels himself and looks back at his brother determinedly. "Don't worry. It won't be like that forever." He offers a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "For now, let's just have some fun, okay? We'll figure something out."
Al nods, seeming to perk up. "You're right. It's no fun moping around. We can still enjoy this."
Ed's smile shifts into a smirk. "Well, there's enough snow for snow angels… wanna make Resembool's biggest snow angel?"
Al laughs, plopping on his back in the snow, Ed and Winry following suit. When they stand back up, they study the most mismatched trio of snow angels ever to exist.
Winry's is perfect, with big wings and a wide dress. Ed's only has one wing and the dress is a lot wider on the right thanks to the limited movement of his prosthetic. And Al's is gigantic, dark lines dug into the dirt where the spikes on his armor dragged through the ground.
"I think that's the weirdest set of snow angels anyone's ever made," Ed declares.
"Maybe so," Al says. "But they're ours. And I love them."
The three kids look on a moment longer, until a voice down the road startles them.
"Hey! Winry!"
The Elrics and Winry turn to see Patrick Sumner jogging down the road, waving at them. A sudden sense of fight or flight kicks into Ed, and he briefly considers trying to hide from his peer. But then, he glances at Al, and the thought dissipates. He knew he would have to face his old friends at some point, and it's no use trying to hide.
From what Granny said, the whole of Resembool knows the Elrics had an accident involving alchemy. They know Edward lost limbs, and Alphonse lost his body. But they don't know that it wasn't really an accident, or that it was all Ed's fault. They don't know the half of what the brothers have gone through in the past four months.
Now, it's not like Ed and Al were ever particularly close to the other kids in town. They were always more interested in books than friends. They used to play with the Sumner kids often enough, with the Elrics, Rockbells, and Sumners being the only three houses branching off this road. But still, Ed isn't quite ready to face anyone, fearing they'll be able to see right through him and know what he did. Even if he knows that's stupid and irrational.
Patrick trots up to them, glancing at the Elrics. "Hey, Winry… and… Ed and Al?" He finishes the statement in a question, and Ed tries not to feel hurt by it. Winry stands a little straighter, clearly protective of the boys she loves like brothers.
"Hey," Ed offers weakly.
"Nice to see you," Al says, voice just as uncomfortable as Ed's.
Patrick's eyes widen slightly, and he stares at them. "Wow, I didn't- I mean, Dad told me what happened, but- you guys-" he shakes his head, trying to grasp his train of thought. "You really are… different, huh?" He looks at Ed's empty jacket sleeve, then back at Al. "You really did lose your arm. And Al really is an empty suit of armor. I just- I didn't know alchemy could do that, y'know?"
Ed's gaze trains on the ground, body turning slightly to better hide his limp sleeve. He knows Patrick isn't being mean; he's never been mean. He just doesn't like being looked at like a spectacle.
But even so, I'm not really the spectacle here. Ed glances at Al. I can hide my arm and leg… he can't hide at all. Ed looks around, trying to find a way to escape this situation- when Winry's voice suddenly sounds, loud and confident.
"So what if they're 'different?'" she exclaims, pointing a finger at the eldest Sumner. "Edward and Alphonse are the same people they've always been, and I won't let anyone treat them like they're not! They've already lost enough, and they don't need to be reminded of it! So if you don't want to learn what my wrench feels like against your skull, you'll stop looking at them like that and accept it!"
Patrick blinks, mouth slightly agape. He winces, finally realizing how insensitive his words sounded. "Y-you're right. Sorry guys…"
"It's okay," Al supplies, Ed still too surprised by Winry's outburst to respond.
With that, Winry hmphs and turns on her heel, marching back toward home. Ed gives Patrick a shrug, saying he knows as much as the next guy what that was about, before starting after his friend. Behind them, Al says something to Patrick, and Ed falls in step with Winry, waiting for her to say something.
Finally, he breaks the silence himself. "I coulda defended myself, you know."
Winry sniffs indifferently. "Yeah, that's why you were standing there like a deer in headlights."
Wrong thing to say. He tries again. "Thanks. For standing up for us." Winry doesn't say anything, so Ed continues. "I knew that would happen eventually, but I guess I wasn't prepared. It's probably gonna happen a lot, isn't it?" he laughs bitterly.
Winry stops, Ed nearly tripping with the sudden end of motion. She sighs softly. "Yeah. It probably will." She turns to face him, a confident glint in her eye and a smile on her lips. "But I'll always be here to defend you when it does." Taking his hand, she gives it a reassuring squeeze. "You guys mean a lot to me…" she finishes so quietly Ed almost misses it.
A set of goodbyes from Al and Patrick followed by the sound of Al's armor comes up behind them, and Winry quickly pulls her hand from Ed's, looking away in embarrassment. Ed does the same, turning toward his brother, face slightly warm. But one glance at Al's eyes and Ed knows he can see right through him. Winry moves over to Al, giving him a hug.
"Thanks, Win…" Al says softly.
"Anytime, dummy," she replies, face still buried in metal.
Ed watches, a fond smile creeping across his face. What is it Al always says? It's worth it just to be alive? Winry turns back, still smiling, and Al's body language is radiating just as much joy. Maybe he's right.
The trio return to their snow angels, now covered with fresh powder. They remake their creations, only for Al to step on Ed's and be tackled to the ground in response. The brothers wrestle through the snow like they did when they were little, and even if it's a bit of an uneven match now, it feels just as good as back then. Winry rolls her eyes at the boys' antics, only to be pulled into the tussle herself (which she definitely doesn't win. Nope, not a chance.) And for a while, it feels like nothing's changed.
However, after two hours in the weather, reality forces the kids to return home. Winry's medical side re-emerges, concerned for Ed's wellbeing. She tells him he probably shouldn't be doing such straining things yet, and that doing it in the snow likely isn't helping. (And though he'll ever admit it, his shoulder and leg did start hurting a while ago…). It's at that point that Al mentions he's having trouble moving as well, and their fun abruptly ends.
Back inside, Ed lays on the couch with a couple of warm compresses (apparently Granny anticipated this and had some ready for him, which he is both grateful for and annoyed by) while Al thaws his frozen joints in the corner. Ed watches his brother through lazy eyes, hand wrapped around a steaming mug of hot cocoa, while Winry rattles off something random in the other chair (probably about automail or Ed being an idiot, he's not really paying attention). And despite the current situation, he's actually relatively pleased with how this day has gone. Sure, it's not an ideal ending, but he got to have some fun in the snow with his brother and Winry, and, as a bonus, got to see some of Winry's affection. Al has a pile of towels beside him, ready to collect moisture as the frost coating his body melts. Even without ice frozen in his joints, he seems to be moving stiffly, and Ed frowns slightly.
Finally, Al seems to notice his brother's staring. "What are you looking at, Brother?"
"We need to figure out how to keep you from losing your mobility," Ed says absently, merely voicing his thoughts aloud.
"I don't think you can do anything to prevent water from freezing, Ed," Al replies.
Ed rolls his eyes. "I know that. I meant about your joints stiffening up. I can tell it's not just the ice, Al."
Al shrugs slightly, picking up another towel. Suddenly, Winry gasps as if she's been underwater for hours and is getting her first taste of air, making both Elrics jump. She leaps from her chair, nearly spilling cocoa everywhere, and bolts out of the room.
Ed and Al share a look, and Ed just shrugs, taking another sip of cocoa. Thirty seconds later, Winry comes pounding back into the room, holding a metal can above her head like a trophy.
"Winry Rockbell, here to save the day!" she exclaims, beaming proudly.
"What is that?" Ed asks, unimpressed.
"Automail oil!" The girl marches over to Al. "It's an essential part of maintaining the fluidity of automail movement, but I didn't even think about it until now. Al's joints are basically the same as in automail, so it'll help him move better, too!"
Al turns toward her. "Really?"
"Of course!" Winry holds out her hand, and Al stretches out an arm. "You just drip a little in each moving joint, and it does the rest!" She demonstrates with his arm, and once she's done, Al flexes his elbow a few times.
Behind them, Ed huffs from the couch. "Only a gearhead would get so excited over something like oil."
Winry whirls around to glare daggers at him. "Soon enough, you're going to be using this stuff too, so shut up, or I'll pour it on more than just your automail!"
"The fact that you're threatening to pour oil on me just proves my point," Ed deadpans, taking a long drink of cocoa. "It's almost as bad as the wrench."
"Shut up before I go get said wrench."
Al's voice pipes up. "I don't know, Brother. She may have a point." Ed's attention focuses back on his brother, who is still moving his arm all around. "I haven't been able to move this well since I've been in this body."
Winry smiles smugly, and Ed pouts into his mug. "Fine. If it helps you, Al, then fine. But this doesn't change the fact that Winry's a gearhead."
Winry laughs evilly, walking over to Ed and noogie-ing his hair. With his hand occupied by his hot cocoa, all he can do is send a deathly glare at her while she messes up his bangs. "And nothing can change the fact that you're short. That's just how it is, alchemy freak."
…
When Edward wakes two days later to the scent of baking raspberries, he immediately knows something big is happening today. Both dreading and anticipating it, he quickly attaches his leg and follows the scent to its source. As he suspected, the oven is on and a pie is inside it, while Pinako is sitting at the kitchen table, reading a large textbook.
"What's the occasion?" he asks nonchalantly.
Pinako looks up from her book, smiling when she sees him. "Oh, nothing special… just the day you're receiving your first mechanical leg, is all."
Ed blinks at her, unsure he heard her right. "Really?"
"Yup. You're proficient with that leg, so it's time to move on. Winry and I finished wiring the new one last night."
Ed grins for a moment, before a skeptical look clouds his features. "...So what's the pie for?"
"What, a grandmother can't bake a pie for her grandchildren?" Pinako replies innocently.
"Not unless she wants something from us," Ed says, raising an eyebrow.
Pinako laughs. "Just think of it as a bit of an… incentive. The better you handle this, the bigger a slice you get."
Ed puts his hand on his hip. "What do you mean, 'the better I handle this', I've been nothing but cooperative!" Pinako gives him a look at that statement, and he babbles out an attempted retractment. "I-I mean, I, uh, I'm going to be cooperative from here on..."
"You better, because it's only going to get harder." She pats his head.
He smirks. "Maybe I'll do better if I get a taste of that pie beforehand."
"Stop being a little snot," she teases while he walks into the living room.
"Not little!" he shouts from the other room.
Pinako snickers, getting her oven mitts and pulling the pie out. A minute later, Alphonse and Winry make their way into the kitchen with the supplies Pinako requested. Winry is carrying Ed's new leg, while Al is carrying a tray of medical supplies and a couple pillows.
"Is he up?" Winry asks.
"Yep, and as argumentative as ever." Pinako sticks a toothpick into the pie, testing it.
"Which is Edwardese for he's excited, right?"
"Obviously."
Al sighs. "My brother… what are we ever going to do with him…"
Ed's voice calls from the living room again. "I can still hear you guys!"
The three people in the kitchen laugh, and Pinako ushers them into the living room. It's good that Edward is in such high spirits right now, because it probably won't last for long.
When Ed's gaze falls on the leg in Winry's arms, his eyes widen, glittering like he's seeing gold. It's nothing spectacular, basically just a metal pole with a wired motor at the top, but having a motor means it moves. "Give it to me!" he says eagerly, holding out his hand in the universal gimme signal, "I'm ready for it!"
Pinako tries to subdue some of his eagerness, knowing how giving it to him is actually going to go. "Ed, do you remember what it felt like when we plugged your monitors in during surgery?"
His face falls into confusion. "Not really…" He thinks for a moment. "I'm pretty sure it hurt a lot but I don't remember exactly what it was like."
Pinako nods, having expected this answer. He was heavily drugged and sick during surgery, so it's unsurprising he can't recall things in detail. "Well, it did hurt. And this is going to hurt even more. I just want you to be prepared." Ed nods, not quite seeming to grasp the weight of this revelation.
Oh well. He will soon enough.
Pinako tells Ed to lay on the couch, and Al places the pillows, one behind his head and the other under his left leg to elevate it. She disconnects his current leg and lays the new one below his port. "Alright, here's how this works, Ed," she begins. "This leg is what we call Skeleton One. The only part that's mechanical is the knee; everything else is the same as the leg I just took off of you. See these two wires here?" She holds up two small wired plugs sticking out of the sides of the knee motor. "These are the only things we're going to connect to your nerves. It won't hurt when I plug them into your port. I need a special tool to actually make the signals start flowing from you to the machine, so you don't need to worry. I'm going to plug them in now." She pokes the cords into the two small outlets on his port, then clicks the main rod of the leg onto the center plug. Once that's done, she holds up a small, rectangular looking wrench. "This is what is going to hurt. It's going to open the mechanical neurons and let your nerves communicate with the automail. But it's also going to send a lot of electricity into your body in the process, so you need to brace yourself. Automail monitors during surgery are bad, but this one will probably make you pass out. That's why you're laying down." Pinako glances at Al while she says this, so he knows not to freak out when Ed loses consciousness. Al looks as worried as a suit of armor can, but gives her a tiny nod of understanding.
Ed grits his teeth, finding himself growing more and more nervous with each word. Pass out? I might pass out? And this one doesn't even connect to all of my nerves… what's it going to be like when it does? "Do it. Do it now." If you keep stalling, I might lose my courage…
"On three." Pinako sets her wrench over the cinch on the metal knee. "One. Two. Three."
Whatever Ed had been expecting was far from what he actually feels when she turns the wrench. It feels like a bolt of lightning strikes his leg, shooting all the way up his back and into his brain. It's hot and cold at the same time, and absolutely blinding. Before Ed even understands what's happening, his eyes roll back in his head and he slumps against the pillow, hand and jaw going limp.
If Pinako hadn't warned him, Al would have absolutely lost it. One moment, Ed is tense, gripping the couch cushion and eyes squeezed shut in anticipation, and the next, he's gone. Even still, the ten year old flinches at the sudden loss of his brother's presence, soul cringing at the thought of what kind of pain he must be experiencing if his body's only way of handling it is to shut itself down.
Pinako lets out the breath she'd been holding, scanning Ed for any sign of distress. "Okay, Al, take that thermometer and tell me his temperature. We're going to monitor it for a few hours."
Al puts the glass stick under his brother's tongue, eyeing his slack face worriedly. "Uh, it's 98.9."
"Good. I'm expecting it to rise over the next hour, so we'll keep an eye on him. Usually, people are out for several hours, but knowing Ed, he'll probably try to wake up sooner. All we can do now is wait."
So they do. Winry sits on the couch at Ed's feet, and Al sits on the floor by his head. As Granny predicted, his temperature rises to almost a hundred degrees over the course of the hour, but he also starts showing signs of consciousness. Winry sees his fingers twitch and his hand move to push his shirt up, tongue sneaking out briefly to lick his lips.
"Brother?" Al asks tentatively.
Ed's eyes open a crack, focusing on Alphonse. After a minute of staring, he opens them fully, looking around the room.
"Hey, Ed, how do you feel?" Winry asks.
"Like I got shot in the leg," he replies. He frowns, lifting his head to briefly look at his legs before letting it fall back against the pillow. "How long was I out?"
"Not even an hour and a half. It's barely one o'clock."
Ed nods, trying to get a sense of himself. There's still waves of pain radiating through his left leg with each movement, but it's not as bad as he'd expected. (Of course, he's still only laying down at the moment, so who knows what it'll feel like standing.) While he continues to wake up, Winry tells Al to get one more temperature reading while she gets Pinako.
Al offers Ed the thermometer, and Ed obediently holds it in his mouth.
"How are you doing, Brother?" Al asks as Ed hands him the instrument back.
"M'okay." Ed slowly pushes himself to a half-sitting position. "I can't wait to get this automail working." He gives Al a small smile.
Al hums in agreement. "Yeah. And then we can start moving forward."
The Rockbells re-enter the room, Granny smiling fondly. "Just as I thought, you woke up faster than everyone else. I wouldn't expect anything less from an overager beansprout like yourself."
Ed glares at her. "Where's my pie?"
Pinako laughs. "You'll get it after you do some walking. You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"
"I wouldn't call what I just did 'easy', mini hag…" Ed grumbles.
"Of course not. But getting that automail to listen to you is going to be even harder." She grins broadly. "You up for the task?"
Ed grins back, a determined gleam in his eyes. "Bring it!"
…
Edward quickly learns that he's not quite as up to the task as he thought.
His new leg is heavy and stiff, granting even less movement than the non-mechanical one he's been using for weeks. He knows that shouldn't be the case; he should be able to move the knee freely, but no matter how hard he tries, it just won't respond. So right now, he's left walking on what is basically a metal pole, and it's more than a little disappointing.
However, the Rockbells don't agree with his sentiment.
"Ed, most people can barely stand when they get their first automail because they're in so much pain," Winry reasons. "The fact that you're walking on it proves how far ahead you are."
Ed pouts, glaring at his feet. "But why isn't it working?"
"We don't expect it to work right away," Pinako joins in. "Human nerves aren't exactly made to power machines. They have to learn how to communicate."
"But I'm telling it to move…" Ed retorts, voice edging on whining. "It feels like I'm walking on a peg leg."
"Edward…" Pinako drawls, exhausted.
"Maybe it's not me." The eleven year old glares at the mechanics, grumbling. "I bet you two just didn't make it right."
A pillow shoots through the air, striking Ed square in the face and knocking him over.
"If you ever doubt the quality of Rockbell automail again, next time it'll be the wrench!" Winry shouts.
Ed rubs his nose, peeling himself off the floor. How can a pillow hurt so much? "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!"
"That's right, you are," she says triumphantly. "So stop worrying about making it work! It'll happen on its own when you're ready."
Unless, of course, it doesn't, Pinako thinks. But I don't have any doubts that boy can do it. He's already overcome a hell of a lot more than our other patients. He's going to make it work. "Winry's right, Sprout. You're already doing better than we could've hoped." She smiles, giving him a mischievous glance. "Maybe even good enough for some pie…"
Ed's eyes light up, practically drooling at the thought of buttery crust and hot gooey filling. "I thought you'd never offer."
That night, Edward eats four pieces of raspberry pie for dinner, and Pinako doesn't say a word.
My beta leaves the best comments on my google doc. During the first scene, she said-
"me: omg, what a fun, cute snow day! :)
al: existential angst over lack of a body
me: :( "
And I simply replied "it can't be childhood fluff all the time *evil grin*"
Also some shameless self promotion: Patrick Sumner is actually from an early FMA story of mine, called Snow Day. It's pure, pre-series childhood fluff :3
Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed! Next time on Simple Things- Ch 19: The Laws of Motion