Author's Note

Thanks for sticking around!

This chapter's a little "late" (not that I have a planned schedule), because I wanted to be sure I had part of the fifth chapter written ahead of time. Hope you enjoy! Please make sure to leave a review, even if it's only a few short words; it really helps keep me motivated.

If you catch any inconsistencies or typos, please let me know! I've tried my best to catch all my mistakes and contradictions, but it's very possible I missed a few.

The first time we get any kind of rest is in West City. The weather is horrible and the wind whips my hair against my cheeks, into my eyes. Despite the braid, Edward seems to have the same problem. It's raining, we're wet and we're miserable. At least Alphonse seems to have an easier time of it.

Thankfully, the hotel has a fireplace in its lobby we can at least begin to warm up and dry down in front of. Edward hands over his state pocket watch and some kind of a wallet to Alphonse. A few minutes later, while I'm carefully pulling out my books from under my shirt to inspect the damage, the younger brother comes to lead us up two floors to our room.

It isn't long after luggage is put away in a corner of the living area and jackets shaken out that Alphonse announces he's going back out to see if he can catch wind of any rumours.

"West City is pretty big! Maybe someone heard something about the stone, a lead we can follow," he explains, and I have a feeling it's mostly for my benefit.

Edward waves him off, wishes him good luck, and cautions him about a seal. Alphonse nods like he understands, promises not to bring back any stray kittens again, and as quickly as we came, he's gone back out the door. I don't pay much mind to the elder Elric—who seems to be passed out on the couch already anyways—and instead stow my books in my suitcase and pull out a change of clothes. I'll catch my death if I stay in waterlogged shirts and pants.

I carefully lay everything out on the edge of the bathtub to dry, and leave my jacket hanging on the door knob. I come out of the bathroom slowly towelling the water out of my hair.

The missing length still bothers me.

I don't look in the mirror.

Edward's sprawled on the couch, quietly snoring away. His shirt and jacket are still soaked, and he hasn't even bothered removing his red coat. Housekeeping's going to have a fit if the couch is even so much as damp. I punch the sole of Edward's right boot to jolt him awake.

He promptly jumps and falls right off the couch. I can't help but stand in place, confused and amused.

"The hell was that for?!," he shouts from the floor. There really can't be any bite to his words when he looks like a confused wet dog on the floor.

"You need to get changed," I explain shortly, perching on the couch arm Edward's feet just vacated. "And after that, I wanna take a look at your shoulder, so make it quick. There's a poultice I want to rub into it to try and speed up the healing process."

I continue to towel dry my hair as Edward slowly gets up, still glaring at me. He shrugs off the coat to throw it over the back of the couch, and his boots go flying somewhere near the front door. I do my best impression of someone who didn't just notice that he lost almost a full inch in height without the boots to compensate. I might actually be taller than him?

Once the alchemist actually makes it to the bathroom—with a confused grunt, probably at the sight of my clothes spread all over the place—I go back to my suitcase and pull out the comfrey, mortar and pestle I'd stowed. With the help of some tap water from the small kitchenette, I manage to make enough poultice to at least cover the biggest of the scar my transmutation left. Once i'm done at the counter, I turn back toward the living area.

And almost run straight into Edward's bare chest. Huh; he's actually almost an inch taller than me.

I grip the mortar with white knuckles not to drop it, clothes my eyes and take a deep breath to steady myself. The alchemist takes a hurried step back and apologizes.

"You don't—maybe try not to just appear behind me like that, shit," I mutter, brushing back him and motioning at the couch with a nod. "Sit down."

Stunningly, Edward obeys without any hint of protest. Not even in his eyes.

"What is that, anyways?," he asks, gesturing at the mortar in my hands.

"Comfrey," I reply shortly, kneeling in front of him, nudging his knees apart with my elbows for more room. I scoop up most of the wet, finely crushed herbs and begin to carefully smear it in the center of the angry red scar. Edward hisses above me. "Sorry. But, yeah. Comfrey stimulates cells to speed up the healing process and reduces inflammation. It's... kind of toxic though." I can feel Edward begin to argue, but apply a little bit more force into his shoulder. He stops moving. "Only if it gets into your bloodstream. It's hard on the liver, but applied topically it's fine."

Edward hums at that. He moves his head to the side, and I have to brush his hair away from where I'm working. Weird; a ponytail actually feels like it makes him look older. Maybe it's just that I'm seeing him without that vibrant red coat.

I scoop up the rest of the mix to finish applying it. I vaguely register Edward's metal hand balling over his clothed knee.

"I'm almost done," I say quietly, frowning and trying to spread the herb over as much of the scar as I can. I should've brought honey. That, at least, would've prevented any kind of infection. I'll have to see if I can buy some before we grab the train again in two days.

I press the poultice in with the flat of my right palm, doing my best to keep it adhered for a little bit. I have to put the mortar down on the floor next to me to use my left hand to brace the back of Edward's shoulder; he keeps letting himself get pushed back even after I tell him to stay stiff. Once I'm sure the poultice won't just slough off after a second, I sigh and hang my head for a second. Then brace myself against Edward's left knee to push myself up.

I do my best to ignore the red tint to his face and how he seems very, very interested in the window off to his right. I tell myself it's for his benefit.

"Don't move yet," I instruct, going back to my suitcase behind the couch and rummaging for a second to find the roll of bandages I'd brought along.

When I return to face the alchemist, I motion with a hand for him to stand up. I pick at the edge of the bandage roll, unravel a few inches and placing the end right under Edward's left arm, at his ribs.

"Hold it there for a sec," I mumble, having to tap his left arm for him to keep it raised, while his metal hand hold the end of the bandage in place. I keep praying the poultice doesn't budge while I lean forward, bandages in my left hand, to wrap my arms around Edward's torso to pass it around to my right hand.

My face almost presses against his chest. I do my best to ignore the heat in my face and steady the trembling in my hands. I've done this dozens of times! There's literally nothing to be nervous about!

After three loops of his chest, I tell Edward he can remove his hand, and I keep wrapping the bandage up his chest. A few times, I loop it over his shoulder. It takes nearly five minutes of careful wrapping until I'm satisfied and the poultice is completely concealed.

Then I remember I don't have scissors.

I don't have any god damn scissors.

It takes a few seconds of me standing too close to Edward without doing anything, a carefully blank expression on my face, before he speaks up.

"Uh, are you... okay?"

I swallow thickly before looking him in the face.

"I uh. I don't have any scissors to cut this with," I say, lifting the (considerably smaller) roll of bandages.

Edward snorts. "Gimme that," he says, after pressing his palms together. What looks like small lightning crackles along his right index finger, and I can barely register what's happening until he grabs the roll from my hands. With a suddenly very sharp finger, he slices through the bandage and hands me back the now separated roll. He tucks the loose end away himself, and steps away from me to gently pat his chest.

I can't help but look a little dumbfounded as he transmutes his finger back to normal. I've never actually seen anyone use alchemy that casually, let alone without a circle. It's fascinating. I clutch the roll and observe my handiwork for a second before letting my eyes settle on the automail.

"Thanks for that, An...," Edward starts, but trails off when I take a step forward. He takes a step back when I motion to reach out. "W-what's wrong?"

"Your automail," I say shortly, taking another step forward to tug the bandages down a little. "Make sure these don't get stuck in it. I'm guessing that could be a problem if it gets jammed?"

There's something that crosses Edward's face that I can't really process or understand. But he grins and scratches the back of his head. I can only guess it's happened before, and not with the best of timing.

"Yeah, that'd be pretty bad. I'll be careful." He grabs the shirt he'd thrown over the back of the couch. It's only now that I notice him wince. He does the motion of pulling the shirt over his head slower than I thought he would. Though he's making a conscious effort to mind the bandages and the poultice, there seems to be something wrong with his right arm.

"Hey," I call out, trying to grab his attention. Once Edward shakes his hair free out of the neckline, blinks a few times at me. "Are you okay? I mean—aside from the bang-up job I did on your shoulder. You look like you have a hard time moving?"

Edward sighs—a lot more wearily than I expected—and drops himself back onto the couch and kicks his feet up on the coffee table.

"I'm fine," he answers, throwing his arms behind his head. "Rain just makes my stumps ache. It's nothing."

I hum in acknowledgement, going from the kitchenette, to my suitcase, and back again with more herbs. I can almost hear his attention drifting to me when I start going through the cupboards. They have a kettle, at least; it looks like it hasn't been used in a bit, but it's something. I fill it with water, light the stove and set it to boil.

"I'm making your turmeric tea," I explain, turning around to lean back against the counter. Edward's eyes are already lidded; I can't tell if he's genuinely tired, bored, or some combination thereof. "There's chamomille in there too. My parents would give that to people post-surgery to help sleep through the pain at night. I can't guarantee it'll work perfectly but..."

He hums in what I assume is acknowledgement but doesn't say anything else. He leans his head back against the couch and closes his eyes completely. The sound of the kettle whistling seems to startle Edward awake a few minutes later, which—good, I wasn't looking forward to waking him up again.

I dump the herbs straight into the kettle to steep. Lord knows I need to sleep, too. Once the tea's done, I carefully bring both mugs over to the couch, hand Edward his with a quiet word of caution, before sitting down at the other end and curling up by the arm.

After his first sip, Edward actually looks... pleasantly surprised? Looks at me with another expression full of everything; gratitude, surprise, and something else that comes and goes before I can identify it.

"Hey, this isn't actually half bad for a bunch of grass in hot water."

I can't help but laugh.

Alphonse isn't back by the time I climb into my designated bed, but Edward stays comfortably sprawled over the couch in what I assume is a vigil.

The sound of clanking armour wakes me deep into the night. My dream after are filled with stories of knights in shining white armour and shimmering blonde hair.

I wake up with the sun the morning after.

I amble out the bedroom and attempt to return Alphonse's cheerful greeting. I hadn't thought about that before; he doesn't sleep, does he? Can he? Does he feel the need to?

Does he miss it?

I need coffee.

Edward is, once again, snoring away on the couch, limbs all over the place. This time, at least, he's covered with a blanket. I can't help but be under the impression the younger brother put it there.

I go through the cupboards in the small kitchenette one by one. And then go through all of them again, for safe measure. There are plates, bowls, flatware...

But no coffee.

I bend at the waist to drop my head against the counter. I'm not human in the morning until I have coffee. It's going to be miserable. I won't be able to talk to anyone without snapping at them. Alphonse doesn't deserve that.

"What's wrong, Anna?"

I sigh and stand up, only to let myself slide down the counter and sit on the ground.

"There's no coffee here," I answer, more of a grumble, and pull my knees up. If Alphonse isn't laughing it sure as hell sounds like it. "Did you see anything yesterday that might actually serve caffeine?"

The lights that serve as the younger brother's eyes almost seem to curve while he laughs. I file it away for later consideration.

"Yeah, oh course. The lobby downstairs has a cafe! You can probably get breakfast there too. It seemed pretty good."

Not once does his tone falter from its merriness, but I can't help but feel that there's something under the words. File that away for later, too.

"Thank god. You're a lifesaver," I say with a grunt, pushing myself off the floor and heading for the bathroom. I stop at the end of the couch, and contemplate Edward for a second before turning and asking.

"What time is it? Should I wake this one up t—"

"'m already awake, no thanks to you," the blanketed mass answers me. I jump back in surprised and put a hand against my chest.

I want to say something, but bite back the words. No coffee, no snark. Grit my teeth and continue to the bathroom. Lean against he door after I lock it.

Rather than scattered all over the place, my clothes are neatly folded on the vanity by the sink. I expected them to be damp at best, but when I grab my tank, it's bone dry. I frown down at he fabric in my hands, but ultimately dismiss it. I can ask the brothers about it later.

Leather jacket in my arms, I wander out of the bathroom and head straight for the boots I left by the door. Call over my shoulder, "You two coming with?"

While Edward grumbles something under his breath (that I'm probably better off not hearing), Alphonse seems to think on it a bit before standing up. "Yeah! We can show you the library after breakfast, right brother?"

The elder brother yawns wider than I think a human body should probably be allowed to, scratches the back of his head and throws the blanket off. Leaves in on the floor. I try not to let it bother me.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll meet you downstairs." And with that, retreats to the bathroom himself.

I give Alphonse a questioning look, and he does the best impression he can of someone shrugging their shoulders.

"Guess it's just me and you for a bit then," I comment lightly, opening the door and waiting for Alphonse to join me. "Can't wait to feel human again."