Chapter eight

"Right here, Edward," Mustang told him as he led his left hand to the sheet of paper that was being kept straight by the book in his lap. Ed could only feel a sense of detachment as he signed the discharge form. Of course, he couldn't really know that that was what he had signed. For all he knew, he may have just given his signature to a ten-year contract to perform as a clown at birthday parties.

Not that he really believed it. It was just weird to know that a lot of his life would now be directed by trusting those around him. That was daunting and it was horrifying and it was weird and it was just...

It's just fucked up, just like the rest of my life.

Ed had needed to grow up and be a strong big brother for Al ever since Mom died eight years ago. That meant that it had been him against the rest of the world for such a long time now, especially after joining the military.

And now, here he was: the blind cripple that could no longer be trusted to take care of himself, let alone his brother.

Ed completed scribbling down his signature and put down the pen. He had to say it was almost funny. He was being honourably discharged as a result of committing the greatest crime possible for an alchemist.

Although Ed couldn't say that here. There was a doctor hovering by the desk in the corner of the room as well as a guy who had been smart enough to get himself drunk and then grope his CO who just happened to be a Brigadier General, meaning that the guy was currently sulking as he lay there on his stomach, his back hurting like hell after having received a flogging earlier that day.

Ed heard the Colonel sigh as he applied his own signature to the discharge forms. "Well, kid, that's it... You're a civilian again."

Ed sighed. "Yeah... Guess so. What time is it?" Ed kept asking that more often than he'd like to admit. But it really made him pretty paranoid that he couldn't tell what time it was anymore. Everything was just BLACK. He couldn't even tell if it was day or night anymore. He couldn't just look out a window. He couldn't look anywhere actually.

"It's nine in the evening," Mustang told him.

"You think I could call the Hugheses to check up on Al?"

The three Hugheses had gone back to Mustang's house together with Alphonse (and Hawkeye for protection) because, although it made Ed nervous as hell, he still knew that it was a lot better for the other four inhabitants of the house to be staying at Mustang's place for the night, considering that with needing to get extra beds and stuff and all the preparations that needed to be done to make place for Ed and Al, demanding that they stay here in the infirmary was...

...Basically, it was stupid. Also, you don't really force the people who are helping you with your baby brother while having a baby themselves to spend the night in a couple of the most uncomfortable chairs in the world.

"I'll get the wheelchair for you," Mustang said, getting to his feet from where he was sitting on the chair next to him.

At least I think he is. It sounds like it. He could be standing over me with a knife without me knowing it for that part.

Then came the footsteps. Ed had never before enjoyed the sound of footsteps like he did now. They gave him a sense of where people were. It felt a lot safer that way.

He heard the sound of the footsteps coming back as well as a couple of wheels rolling towards him, and Ed threw his legs over the edge of his bed, ready to get in the wheelchair all on his own. He was not going to have the Colonel lift him into it. Ed still felt weird about what had happened in the hospital. He had broken down and let Mustang of all people HUG him. And worst part, the irreversibly WORST part, was that Ed hadn't just been sitting there limply in his arms. No, he had actually CLUNG TO the Colonel's shirt like a fucking toddler.

And yet Mustang hadn't mentioned it. But he still couldn't believe that he had actually done that and that the guy who was practically his arch nemesis, was the one who had hugged him and gently rubbed soothing circles into his back.

"Edward, listen to me: it's okay. You're allowed to hurt just like everyone else."

Ed couldn't help but remember those words clear as day and the way Mustang had said them. The guy had actually been completely honest. He meant it. He thought that Ed deserved to be cared for and everything that he really didn't.

Ed heard footsteps close in on him and he knew that Mustang was getting ready to lift him into the wheelchair. "No lifting, Colonel. I'm not that useless, just..." Ed paused, feeling awkward. "Just help me find the armrest, and I'll do the rest of it myself."

"Still as stubborn as ever, then..." Mustang said, sighing as he moved forwards and took Ed's hand gently. That was weird. It was weird that the Colonel was actually doing something like that so gently. Ed had never thought that there was anything gentle about him at all. And yet the movement was patient and the hand was soft as it closed around his own.

Then Ed's hand was on the armrest. "It's the left armrest, so it's the same one that your arm will be leaning on once you're seated, but at the moment, it's to your right."

For some reason, all that that comment achieved was not gratitude for the warning, but just a lump in his chest as he realised that on his own, he might as well just have fallen straight to the floor because he'd been mistaking which armrest it was. Ed gave a quick nod and then he reached his foot forwards, using it to calculate just how he would have to move by feeling out the distance and the width. Then he got up, turned around, and landed in the wheelchair with what he hoped was a graceful jump. It had felt controlled and he was hoping he made it clear that he was not to be coddled. So except for the fact that the sudden movement made his headache spike and the holes in his face began pulsing even more with the pain, he was doing pretty good, he guessed.

"Edward, would you hold onto the discharge forms, then we can take them directly to the office?" Mustang said to his right.

"Sure," Ed said, holding up his hand to take the documents from him. There was a slight crackle of paper and then Ed felt them being placed into his hand and Ed brought his hand to his lap, holding onto the weird sheets of paper. Ed felt like he should be crying, but all he felt was that they were weird. He had been working for the past two years to get Al back in his body, and now everything was just weird and fucked up and Ed felt numb. He was out of the military, and now he was moving in with the Colonel. Al was a baby and Ed was blind and it was just numb and weird and it kept surprising him, because none of this felt real.

The footsteps moved to right behind him and he felt himself being rolled backwards and then turned ninety degrees to his left in what he assumed was the direction of the door. There were another set of feet closing in on them and Ed heard the sound of the door being opened.

"Thank you, Doctor... Okay, Edward, there's going to be a bump because of the threshold here," Mustang warned him before pushing the wheelchair more forcefully over the aforementioned threshold.

Ed wobbled slightly as a result, but that was all. "Hey, Colonel, you think we could like... Leave the infirmary tomorrow morning? I don't think the Rockbells are gonna want to be here..." Ed didn't really want to mention the fact that he didn't know how he'd react himself to meeting them again after everything he did. And it would therefore be really easy to let something slip and thereby land himself in jail.

And he knew that after Uncle and Auntie Rockbell died in the war, Granny and Winry weren't too fond of the military.

"I guess you'd like a shower before they arrive too..." Mustang said thoughtfully. "If we leave about ten and they arrive by twelve, it should give you enough time to get ready and for me to get the house in order."

"Cool, I guess..." Ed said. This was so weird. He was being wheeled around by Mustang. Then a thought struck him. "Uh, by the way, Colonel, I didn't like break your nose or a rib or something earlier, right?" Ed asked awkwardly.

"No, but you did make a fine bruise in the middle of my stomach, gave me a black eye, a swollen jaw and the bite was deep enough to earn me a tetanus shot."

"Oh..." Ed could feel heat rise to his cheeks. "I guess I should apologise about that."

Mustang just sighed.

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