Thank you all so much for reviewing! And now, welcome, to yet another rudely long chapter... also, due to some questions I've gotten- this is not an AU! This takes place completely in canon, a year or two after Ed becomes a State Alchemist with Roy as his CO. Brohood or 03, I guess brotherhood but it doesn't really matter. Anyway- thank you all for reviewing! Now, as promised: angst! :D
"Could've met in the military."
Roy scoffed. "We've been through this- I'm too young to be a colonel; you're too young to even be in the military. Next."
"No, no- wait-" Ed scowled at him, glancing up from the sketch of the tattoos he'd been studying to focus on him again. He waved his fork, then stabbed it back into the slop that constituted lunch. "I mean, you're in the military, and you met me on the job somehow?" He tugged on his empty sleeve before looking back downwards to his lunch in his musings. "I mean, my limbs didn't just fall off- maybe I lost them in a war or something."
Roy shuddered, almost delicately, and shifted in his position to pull Ed a little closer to his side, tightening the blanket around both their shoulders. "I'd... hope someone as young as you wasn't involved in a war, but, all right. Possibility appropriately tallied. Again, next."
Ed shrugged, glancing back down to his drawing of the array again. "You contribute something." He narrowed his eyes at the sketch, as confusing and inscrutable as always, then just sighed and went for his little cartoon of milk next, handing it over to Roy without looking. "I've been pretty helpful here; what about you?"
As usual, Roy made an annoyed sound in his throat but accepted the milk without complaint, opening it one-handedly. "I feel, once again, societally obligated to remind you that, perhaps, your challenges with height are related to a deficiency in calcium, and as a growing boy, you-"
"I'm not short! I'm not, I'm NOT! Shut up shut up shut UP or I'll pour the goddamn milk on your head YOU STUPID-"
"And, as I said," Roy drawled innocently, "I can not accept your milk in good conscience without ensuring you know the risks."
Oh, and he could fucking hear the smirk on Roy's face when he said that one.
Groaning darkly, Ed returned his focus back down to the array in his lap, resolving to just block the older man out like the jerk that he was. Maybe, if he ignored him hard enough, Roy would just wither up from the lack of attention and die.
It had been a little over a week, since Ed had been joined here in this prison of a hospital wing by a coherent Roy, probably two or three since Roy had ended up here all together. Already, the two of them had struggled their way to etch out this unsettling, tenuous new normal- albeit, one that depended heavily on their unknown schedule of 'treatments'. Thus far, they'd both managed to avoid being drugged into oblivion, at least- just the usual medicines they were given each morning and the sedatives they hid away each morning and night. Good, on one hand, but on the other, ice baths fucking sucked, and if they weren't being drugged into oblivion-
Well, that was the alternative.
Still, though, Ed reflected, this week was probably the easiest he'd had it ever since waking up in this damn hospital ward.
It was easier to keep himself calm, now that he had someone with him. It was just easier, because before he'd fight and argue the nurses but now he'd bite his tongue and not respond to the nurses' baiting no matter how much it incensed him, just keep silent and never give them a reason to drug him just with the heavy knowledge that Roy was here with him. Somehow, that was all it took, and Ed was unendingly grateful for it. It was the calmest he'd been able to keep himself ever- and Roy, too, was clearly doing better; he hadn't provoked the nurses since that first night, either, following everything Ed said and managing to behave for as long as he had to.
Sure, again, they weren't left alone... there was still the annoying rounds of medication in the mornings, and then the ice baths every day or so, probably just as frequent as their bodies could stand them- but it could've been worse. That was Ed's lifeline, now- the realization that it could've been worse... and the memory of when it had been worse, every single day before Roy had gotten here.
He'd survived worse, and he would survive this.
He would survive everything for as long as he had to, because someday, he was getting out of here.
That was what he and Roy spent most of their time dedicated to, nowadays. In a way, at least. No escape attempts were being plotted just yet, Roy still a bit too leery and wary to fully commit to it. Ed had gritted his teeth and forced himself to not push the matter, forcing himself to accept that Roy just hadn't been here long enough to get it, like he did- hell, Ed didn't even know how long he'd been here alone for. He certainly hadn't woken up here clued into the fact that everyone here was a fucking asshole who had it out for him... he could hardly turn into a hypocrite and lambast Roy for not doing the same.
He'd get through to him, though.
He'd get through to him soon.
For now, however, they spent almost all of their free time trying to figure out where they had come from. What their past connection was, what colonel could mean, what they saw in the strange tattoos- anything at all, that could lead to a possible answer. Sometimes relaxing in one of their rooms, sometimes moving around near the couch, Roy pacing and Ed hopping at a steady, balanced pace, just ecstatic for the chance to be able to move around since Roy had never once looked at him like he was a helpless invalid- not like those nurses, always watching him pityingly, always cautioning him off into a wheelchair, always chiding and chastising him like a baby.
Sometimes, however, they were like this.
Huddled close together under a tight wrap of blankets, Roy's arms around him in a tight hug for shared warmth, talking and leaning against each other as they tried not to shiver.
They weren't making too much progress, maybe, but for now, Ed was just too content in the relative peace he'd grasped to really care.
"Well," Roy put forth, rubbing slowly along Ed's shoulder. "Maybe I'm not in the military at all. I could be a doctor- met you that way." He pointed over at his missing arm and leg, then reached back over to finish drinking the rest of Ed's disgusting cow juice.
Ed snorted. "Why would you want to be a doctor? Doctors suck! What, you want to apply for a job here or something?"
"I'd rather be a doctor than a child..."
"You smug little shi-"
As if on cue, the doorknob turned and the hinges creaked, and Ed instantly shut his mouth while Roy lowered his face with one quietly disguised, very self-satisfied smirk. Seething silently, Ed just kept his gaze focused downwards as the nurses stepped into the room, a one by one processional of assholes and punishments waiting to happen. "Good afternoon, you two," Ann started with an irritating faux kindness, and with a, "How are you two doing today?" tacked on by Susan, and Ed once again just gritted his teeth in abject annoyance, while Roy's private little smirk just broadened.
What an ASS...
"Time for treatment!" Ann said, first beckoning over to Roy with another smile. "Roy, those orderlies in the hall will take you down to yours. And, Edward- good news, for you! The doctor thinks you're ready to start the next phase of your treatment! Isn't that exciting; now you're really going to start feeling better!"
Ed froze. Roy's smirk, so commonplace nowadays it had almost started to be a comfort, suddenly fell.
...what?
They were... were taking him...
...to what?
"A new... new treatment?" he heard himself stammer, and it was only a pathetic sort of miracle that kept his brain functioning enough to hold the words dull and sleepy and his eyes vacant and tired.
What- what are they saying? A next phase in treatment?
What are they going to do to me?
Ann just patted his shoulder warmly again, the way she always did, then reached around to take his hand without asking, pulling him away from Roy and on back to Susan and the waiting wheelchair. "That's right," she told him, sitting him down and keeping him there with a firm hand to his shoulder. "The doctor thinks you're ready now! Trust us, Edward- it's good news for you. You'll be getting better in no time, now." She patted his shoulder again, the gesture a lot closer to an order to stay put than a move to comfort him, then glanced back up to where Roy was still sitting in his chair, looking just as quietly alarmed as Ed felt. "Roy?"
The older man stiffened, staring between the nurses with narrowed, unreadable eyes, silently worried and suddenly just as suspicious as Ed was. Their drugged facade from before was all but gone and he started to turn around, glancing to meet Ed's eyes in mutual concern.
"Roy...?" Ann started again. This time, the question the innocence of the question had faded, and in its place was the growing shadow of suspicion.
That was all the warning they needed.
Roy blinked, dullness washing over his face and gaze dropping like a switch had been flipped. "Of course," he mumbled, pushing his way unsteadily to his feet and his hands dropping limply to his sides, gaze fixed on the floor. He stumbled ahead at an uneven pace, hair shielding his eyes, only to lurch to a halt directly beside him- and one heavy, warm hand, landed directly on his shoulder.
Ed closed his eyes, fighting back the nervous tightness in his throat. He didn't dare reach up to return the gesture but focused on it with every fiber of his being, bowing his head and breathing in and out in time with the frantic beating of his heart. It's okay. You'll be okay. No matter what they do to you, you'll live through it. You've lived through it before and you'll live through it again, and all you have to do is get through it and then come back here where Roy'll be waiting. It's okay. You'll be okay, Ed.
You can do this.
Ed kept his focus purely on the linger of the warmth on his shoulder. He kept his focus there even when the nurses had prodded Roy on again and the hand had left his shoulder. He kept his focus even as they were led to separate hallways, their bond split as they were both forced away from each other, thinking about that warmth even when he was left alone and, door by door, was taken away from everything that was familiar and towards everything that he couldn't stand.
You can do this, Ed.
You're not sick, you're not crazy, you don't deserve this, you can do this.
He kept his eyes closed, he shut out the anxious nausea growing in his stomach and the tremors in his hand, he ignored the presence of the nurses behind him, and he just focused on that warmth, as they took him towards their new hell.
The ice baths were down a different hall entirely, the one they'd taken Roy to. This was a place Ed had never been to before, though it looked the same as all the rest; plain walls, rows of shut doors, all utterly deserted. Neither of the nurses spoke to him; god, it was just utterly, almost hauntingly silent save for the squeak of the wheelchair along the floor, and Ed's breath caught painfully in his throat again, aching in his chest as he was taken around one final corner and then, at last, through a door.
A chill shot down Ed's spine, a shiver rocking him from head to toe, and fear clenched in his stomach so tightly it hurt.
Their destination, at last.
And it sucked his breath away.
He was in a small room. A small, cold room with an identical atmosphere as the rest of the hospital; all steel and everything clinical, harshly detached and reeking of antiseptic. There were no waiting ice baths, however. No waiting beds, for him to be restrained to. No; there weren't any devices or furniture at all in the room, because everything had gone instead make room for the design on the floor.
There was a huge, detailed circle painted down on the tiles. A black line on the gleaming floor, arcing beautifully from corner to corner, edge to edge, etching out a perfect circle that held twisting black symbols and foreign words and impossible lines. A triangle inscribed in the circle, and a smaller circle in that, the black blooming outwards as dead and dying petals with the curved, foreign script the same script on Roy's back slithering around the edges... the same script on his back.
The array was massive.
That's what that is- it's an array- an array just like on Roy, on me. It's painted on us and there it is on the floor. Oh, god, there it is. It's an array. I don't know what the fuck that is but that is what is on me and that's what's on the floor right now, and- and I don't like this- I really don't like this- this is bad-
Except it wasn't the same array. The words were different, the symbols changed, the ones on him and Roy indescribably more complex- but none of that mattered. It was still an array. The things on him and Roy were arrays and so was that thing on the floor in front of him, and every single second it stared up at him the only thing Ed knew was sheer, inescapable horror.
He wasn't supposed to touch that array.
He didn't know anything anymore, but that, he was sure of. He didn't even have to think about it. All it took was a single glance at the thing and he knew that he was not supposed to touch it.
He couldn't.
"Well, well. I see my patient has finally made it to our first session."
Ed jumped so badly he nearly rocked straight out of the wheelchair.
They weren't alone in the room.
There was a chair by the side of the circle, pushed just far back enough to not intrude in through the careful arcs along the floor. In the chair sat a man- the first new face Ed had seen here since Roy. A slim, unassuming figure draped in a white doctor's coat, as cold and pale as the steel of his chair, messy, sandy hair half shadowing his eyes in a way that almost reminded him of Roy's, with his legs crossed and his fingers interlaced in his lap and a warm smile waiting the very moment Ed looked up and met his eyes.
"It's nice to finally meet you," the man said, and smiled again, "Edward Elric."
It was instinct, that jerked him further back against the wheelchair. It was pathetic and helpless, and he just couldn't help himself as he withdrew, pressing himself back away from him and hugging his arm to his chest, swallowing the growing knot of fear in his throat. "W-who are you?"
The man leaned forward congenially, raising a hand to him in greeting. "I'm the doctor who's been overseeing your case, ever since you were admitted here. You can call me Justin."
He shivered again, pushing himself even further back against the wheelchair. "...Okay."
Justin nodded warmly to him, still looking nothing but inviting as he gestured him forward, and the nurses behind him immediately pushed him a little further into the room. "I've been following your case very closely ever since you got to the hospital. You may not remember, Edward, but you were quite sick then- I'm very pleased with the progress you've made so far. I can see that you've been working hard at your recovery."
If 'recovery' means 'breaking the fuck out of here', then yeah. "If you've been watching so closely, why haven't I ever met you before now?" Ed snapped.
Justin's warm smile, however, did not even falter. "My policy, I'm afraid- there just wasn't much that I could do for you, when you first got here, and I have so many patients as it is... I try to wait until patients can most benefit from my work before I meet them. I've been following your progress with my nurses, though, and as I said, I've been very impressed. I decided it was finally time we met face to face, Edward. As I said- very nice to meet you. I'm hoping our relationship will be a long and fruitful one."
Not if I have anything to fucking say about it.
"...What do you want with me?" He curled up a little more, wrapping his arm around his leg and desperately wishing he'd been allowed the freedom of not being in a wheelchair, so he could actually step away from this creep. "I'm not going to... I won't let you do whatever you want to me!"
"What? Oh, no, of course not, Edward- all I want to do is help you here!" Justin nodded to him, then gestured down to the eerie, black array on the floor. "We're just starting the next phase of your treatment, here, as I'm sure the nurses told you. It's always shown to have very promising results, and I'm sure you'll agree once you've tried it that this is a good step for you. It's really very quite simple, Edward." He rose to his feet, one hand flitting to his deep pockets as he progressed to kneel carefully in the very center of the circle- and then carefully placed the object right in the middle of the design.
"This is a new treatment we've started looking at it," he said again. "We take care of everything- all you have to do, Edward, is use this circle." And he pointed downwards again... towards the small, simple, innocuous rock waiting for him in the array.
Ed stared blankly, his heart pounding hard and desperately as his gaze jerked between the doctor and the- thing. It was just a rock. Just a small, smooth, black pebble, easily smaller than his hand and as harmless as a feather. That was all it was. Just a single, worthless rock, sitting in the middle of an impossible, inscrutable array.
And Ed knew it was wrong.
Everything about it was wrong.
Before he even realized what he'd done, Ed had shaken his head, and then he pulled violently back, head turning back and forth over and over again at the visceral, horrified denial that burned in ever vein, every bone. "No-" he gasped out, "no, I-" It wasn't right. Period. Nothing else to say about it. Every single thing about it was flat out wrong and he wasn't doing it. "No! I won't touch it!"
But Justin didn't even seem dissuaded by the instant response, just standing back out of the circle and gesturing to the nurses, a silent order to get him up and in the confines of the wrong, unnatural thing. Their arms were on him out of nowhere, getting him up, moving him forward, and Ed fought back to wrench away, almost gasping in the sheer panic of it as he threw himself out of reach. Because he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't fucking touch it! It was wrong! It wasn't right! He wouldn't do it! No!
"Edward, now, I understand you're reluctant, but this is just to help you," Justin told him sternly. Arms were around him again, all but picking him up in the air to haul him closer to the circle so fast he couldn't even think to kick or scream or get away. "And it's not difficult for you at all! It'll make you feel so much better, and you have to do is use the circle. What are you so upset about?"
The protest caught in his throat as he reeled back again, shaking his head back and forth and all but wordless with the horror of it. He felt ridiculous, insane; here he was reacting like an out of it lunatic for no reason, because he couldn't fucking justify it at all- so hell, maybe he was crazy, but at this point Ed would be fine being left in a psych ward for the rest of his life if he just never saw that circle again. "I won't do it!" he swore adamantly, hopping back far enough to stare at them all, the smiling doctor and shocked nurses, meeting each one of their eyes in sheer defiance. "No! I'm not sick, I'm not crazy, and you can't make me do it! I refuse! You can do whatever the hell you want to me but you can't make me do that, and I won't! I won't touch that goddamn circle!"
He stared desperately between the three of them now, the scream torn from his throat as he panted for breath and shook on the spot, helpless and vulnerable on only one leg and pathetically unable to defend himself with only one arm, but Ed didn't care. He wasn't doing it. He'd sooner ram his head into the wall until he passed out before he used that circle. He knew it wasn't right and that was all he had to know.
He was not, and would never, do it.
Everything finally went to an unsettling quiet, all that was left the sound of his own gasped breaths on the stale air. It was perfectly, horrifyingly still, all three just staring at him and that terrible array just waiting for him on the floor; time almost stood still.
And then, finally, Justin's smile fell.
"Well," he said. He let out a deep, disappointed sigh, shaking his head almost pitying down at Ed, then transferred his gaze back to the pair of nurses behind him. "It looks like we were wrong. He's not quite ready for this stage of treatment yet."
Ed froze, his eyes widening.
Wait... what?
"It sounds like," he continued, but Ed was helpless to do anything but stare, "we'll need to take a step back for a bit. Edward is going to have to learn all that we're trying to do is help him, after all, and that his being uncooperative isn't going to help that."
They... weren't going to make him do it?
They were actually stopping?
He heard the nurses behind him start to move again, one saying, "Yes, sir," but Ed was so shocked and relieved he didn't even protest as they picked him right back up and lifted him back into his wheelchair. He didn't dare say a word and just waited, waited for the hammer to fall, for them to tell him the consequence to disobeying, but no one was saying anything or doing anything to him at all- they just turned the wheelchair around, and pushed him straight back out of the room they'd pushed him into.
And this time, he was already smiling, the thing stretching across his face from ear to ear in ecstatic, breathless relief.
This was all he'd had to do! Saying no had finally worked! They weren't going to do anything to him; they were just going to take him back- and he could see Roy again, and he could tell him saying no worked now, that saying no didn't work with the nurses but it did work with the doctor, everything was going to be okay, they didn't have to accept what this dammed torture chamber called treatment anymore- they could say no! They could say no!
Ed was so ecstatic, almost bouncing in his seat, that he almost didn't realize when the nurses took him down a different hallway that he'd gone to meet Justin.
Almost.
This was a different hallway. A new one. He wasn't sure how he knew it, it looked just the same as all the others- but he was sure of it. Whitewashed, rows and rows of shut doors, deserted except for them, squeaky floors- but it was different. He hadn't been here before.
These doors weren't just shut. They were locked. Locked, very clearly from the outside- not just with keys, but deadbolted and chained, each and every one of them.
Anxiety started to sweep up from inside him.
Anxiety, and dread.
"...Where are we going?" he asked hesitantly, stretching to look over his shoulder at the nurses behind him. "I thought he- I thought that doctor said we were done for the day."
The nurses didn't answer. They didn't even look at him.
Ed squirmed in his seat, a tiny seed of unease planted in his stomach as he tried to sit up a little straighter, infusing a hint of steel into his voice now even though it never seems to work with these people. "I thought we were finished! He said he wasn't going to do whatever he had planned for today! Why are we-"
Still without even casting him a single glance, Susan brought him to an abrupt stop outside one of the rooms. Ed craned back around, trying to see just what was happening, what he was being taken to, but she pushed him back down immediately even as Ann moved to unlock the door. He heard the heavy mechanisms inside the knob turn with an almost sickening grinding, and then she turned back to him with a sickening smile, and said, "Come along now, Edward,", and gripped him by the arm to lift him to his foot.
Even then, the hard grip on his shoulder stayed, very clearly ready to restrain the very instant he should show resistance.
He gulped.
"W-what's going on?" He tried to stay where he was, but his balance was just too poor; just a little bit of pressure from the one behind him and he had to move forward or he would've fallen flat on his face. "What are you doing?" He tried to struggle again but with only one leg and arm, just couldn't; even as every instinct inside him screamed danger and no he found himself desperately hopping over the threshold, heart hammering a panicked stampede in his ears.
Small white room. Maybe twelve by twelve, if that. Soft floor. Not just floor- floor, walls, ceiling. All around soft and white and that was it, so much of it in such a tiny room that it almost looked like a-
A padded cell.
His heart beat skyrocketed.
"Wait! Wait! Stop, I-"
"Edward," Ann, Ann with her sickening smile said to him, "this is the time out room. We take patients here when you've gotten unruly, and try to resist our attempts to help you. You heard the doctor- being uncooperative won't help anybody, now, well it?"
"Wait!" he gasped again, trying to pull away but the nurse's grips were just too tight. "Wait, that's not- that wasn't going to help me, I didn't want that- I'm not even sick! I just- stop, don't do this-"
"Edward," she said with that same smile, that same pitying look, that same condescending light in her eyes, "remember, now, dear, you're sick. You need us to tell you what's best for now. Being uncooperative with us will just make you sicker."
"No!" he cried, fighting to worm away, "Stop, just- just let me talk, please! Don't do this, I- I don't want-"
The nurse tsked quietly, looking away from him like he were no more sentient than a talking lamp and shaking her sadly at her partner. "He's getting upset, now. They always do, the first time or two."
Her partner nodded back with that same sad, condescending sigh. "Looks like the doctor was right to order restraints," she said, reaching up for something, and Ed's heart skyrocketed all over again.
Restraints? Restraints?!
"Wait, wait- stop, please-" he begged, but the nurses were already reaching for him, Susan gently stopping his struggles like it was just child's play while Ann held something soft and white, and both of them were still smiling at him-
"Remember, Edward, this is for your own good," Susan chided softly. He couldn't stop or focus, head whipping between her and the other as he felt his arm being moved, pulled through something but the other kept speaking, as if trying to distract him from what was happening. "You're just going to spend a little bit here in the time out room until you've calmed down, all right?"
"And this here is just to stop you from hurting yourself," Ann finished cheerily, and too late Ed's gaze was pulled back down to realize what had been done to him.
His stomach bottomed out, and icy horror flooded through him from head to toe.
She'd put him in a thick, white jacket, just as white as the entire rest of the room. One arm had been forced through a long sleeve and forcibly folded in front of him that he could already feel was bound tightly to his chest. A single attempted jerk was all it took; he could barely move it an inch before the cloth caught, and if it hadn't been for the nurses still holding him upright the thing would've made him fall. A gasp caught again his throat, making him feel the buckles drawn tight all around him, bound around his back and his chest, and then he knew-
He knew-
They'd put him in a fucking straitjacket.
"WAIT! WAIT," he screamed, "STOP! You can't-"
Susan just kept on holding him and shook her head with a sad sigh, looking to her partner again, looking at her like he wasn't even fucking there. "He's so upset," she mused aloud, "we may have to leave him in here for a couple days."
"Or longer, even. As long as it takes for him to calm down and accept treatment," Ann said as she withdrew her ring of keys again, her ring of keys to lock him in here.
"NO!" Ed shouted desperately, and as much as he'd hated them holding onto him before he suddenly craved it, leaning frantically forward as she started to pull away and leave him behind all alone. "Wait, stop, please- please, you can't do this to me-" Several days?! OR LONGER?!
He couldn't stay in here that long. He couldn't; he just couldn't. His mind kicked into overdrive and nauseated panic swam inside of him, the white walls pressing in all around him and the restraining jacket pressing in so tight it felt like he couldn't get away. He couldn't do this. Several days?! Just left in this tiny padded cell all alone, his body stuffed into a straitjacket and the door locked like he was some kind of prisoner or criminal or madman?! He couldn't-
"PLEASE!" he howled, trying to jerk his hand out again to hang onto her but the jacket held fast and the nurse just smoothly stepped away, leaving him standing there alone in the padded cell.
"Remember, Edward," Susan told him with a kind look, standing there with the empty wheelchair, the thing that he'd abhorred until now but suddenly wanted back with all his soul. "This is just until you're ready to cooperate. We really don't want to do this to you, but your actions have forced us to. Whenever you're ready to behave, just say so, and we'll be able to let you out."
And they both smiled again, one last time-
And the door was slammed shut.
Not even a second later, he heard the locks clicking shut one by one with a chilling ring of finality, sealing him away to rot- and then, silence.
Through the soundproof walls, he couldn't even hear as the nurses walked away. He couldn't hear anything, except the panicked gasps of his own breathing and the pounding of his heart.
The seconds ticked by in agonizing, unbearable silence.
"N- no-" he rasped at last, shaking his head violently. "No-" They wouldn't just leave him here, would they? No- no, of course not. This was barbaric, inhumane! As much as he hated it here it was still a hospital, right? They wouldn't treat people like this! No-
"I- help? Please?" He carefully hopped a step closer, almost frantically relieved that the confining jacket at least left him that much movement, then hopped another. "Please? Hello?"
No answer. Not even a whisper.
He was completely, utterly alone.
"No, I-" he hopped a step forward again, "I- ah!"
Whatever was left of his precarious balance, the jacket had completely robbed him of. One step further, just a little bit off, and however he'd been managing to keep himself upright dissolved completely, and he fell straight onto his side. The jacket didn't even let him move to catch himself; one second he was upright, and then horrified terror swept through him from head to toe because he was falling and couldn't even move-
And then it was over.
There he was. Just lying there on his side on the floor of a padded cell. The fall hadn't hurt. He'd even bounced a little bit.
Bounced a little bit, because they'd locked him in this room, in this thing, so he wouldn't hurt himself- and, Ed realized, with a dawning sense of horror, they were right. He couldn't even do that. He was so tightly restrained they didn't even need to stand here and watch him. He couldn't do a thing.
He was alone.
He was here, locked in this room, barely able to move- and alone.
After several still, impossible seconds, Ed slowly turned onto his back. The buckles around his torso clinked and jingled a little, provoking the ever familiar horror to sweep through him yet again and making his face flush with shame, but he didn't let it stop him this time. Carefully, he maneuvered onto his back, once again ignoring the hot humiliation when he felt the padded floor, and tried to sit upright.
He tried again.
He tried a third time, on this attempt bucking his hips violently to try and manage the leverage.
He fell back just as pathetically as he had his first two attempts and once again found himself left to just lay on the floor. The padded ceiling waited above him, the padded, soundproof, madman-safe ceiling, and when Ed made another reach for it, this one less planned and more desperate than all the rest combined, the straitjacket calmly held him just as fast as it had before and he was left imprisoned on the floor.
A tiny cry of panic came loose from between his clenched teeth, and slowly, Ed felt himself start to shake.
Ed got to know his new situation very, very well.
He learned each identical inch of his new room. It wasn't as if he was looking for an escape route, really, because he already knew there was none- but perhaps some variety? He wasn't sure, but he learned it, learned it all. He learned his room was a perfect square of soft, soundproof padding, the only break in the monotony the tiny crack in the wall from where the door waited, because there wasn't even a knob on the inside. He'd already tested it. The door had no more give than any of the rest of the room. He couldn't even hear the locks jingle from inside.
He learned his shadows from that one single lightbulb fixated right in the center of the ceiling, far too high for him to even jump to reach. It never went off. The lights were always there, so much so that Ed honestly didn't know, anymore, how long he'd been there, or when it was night and he should try to sleep- it was just always there. Searing into his mind, eating past his eyelids.
Even with his eyes shut, it was there.
So he learned to watch those shadows from it, because it was all he had.
He learned very well how to use the walls to manage to get himself up into a sitting position, which was a little more comfortable than lying down and a lot less humiliating. He even perfected standing, and even though it was impossibly hard he perfected a method for hopping around the room, following the walls and turning in a perfect square with each perfectly measured step.
It was all he had to do.
He learned his straitjacket, too. His brand new garments because he wasn't trusted even in this tiny, padded room not to hurt himself, even though he'd never hurt himself before- but, he was 'upset'. He had to be 'restrained'. He had to 'behave'. So he learned his straitjacket, too, learned it just as much as everything else in his tiny room. He learned how the sleeves tied behind him so tight he could barely move his hand. He learned how his elbow and shoulders started to hurt, but trying to stretch or roll them around just didn't work because he could not move them. He learned how the buckles all cinched around him; he counted, even. Eight, in total; six on his back, one on his stomach, and then another around his wrist, as if the jacket was not enough to his arm restrained.
He learned how it felt when those nurses came in to make sure he was still alive and checked on him, although that was all that they did. They tried to speak with him sometimes, all calming questions like how are you feeling? and have you decided to behave yet?, but Ed didn't ever dare let himself back speak back. He wouldn't condone this. He wouldn't answer back as if this was something he had deserved or earned, like it was fucking helping him.
He wouldn't.
The nurses still came, injecting him with all sorts of things. Nutrients and fluids, probably, since they'd never let him eat. More of that shit medication from before, probably, because he felt weird a lot of the time, and almost always after the nurses came by. They checked on the restraints, too, tugging on the straps and folds as if he could've somehow gotten free.
They never talked to him, though. Not even in the beginning, when he still had tried talking to them.
Never seemed to even look him in the eye.
One day, moving her hands around and around him for her inspection, Ann let out a little startled oh, and then, "Ah, look at this, it's getting loose-" and then, with no further warning except her sweet smile, one of the straps was pulled tight and buckled even tighter, so tight the wind was knocked out of him.
He supposed he should've counted himself lucky they hadn't buckled a collar around his throat, too. If they were going to tie him up like a misbehaving animal, why not leash and collar him like one, too?
A tiny chuckle stumbled out from behind his clenched teeth. A tiny, hysterical, almost mad chuckle.
The nurses looked at each other, shaking their heads sadly. The strap was pulled a little bit tighter.
He was left alone again.
He laughed again.
It was a couple days, he figured, before the drugs they were giving him changed.
Before, it had probably been just nutrients and fluids, maybe something else mild, but that was it. Then, several days in, it just changed, to what they normally gave them to calm down- the shit they'd given Roy, that first night, the regimen they'd both managed to avoid this week until now.
It was damn intentional, and he knew it.
He recognized them new drugs only because he was so familiar with them already.
They were supposed to be a punishment, he knew- and supposed it fit; no matter what they'd said, this padded cell wasn't a treatment to make him behave, it was a punishment for misbehaving- but Ed found himself welcoming it, as he lay there on the padded floor, letting the terrible, biting heat and bugs under his skin sensations wash over him, the sting of pain and the hallucinations to come.
This was better than the nothing he'd had to contend with before, after all.
The first thing Ed saw, was the woman.
The black flesh and bones monster, the thing with skin that sloughed but clung to her head so tightly it was practically just a skull, with her gleaming, bleeding red eyes and rotting teeth that slipped and fell out of her formless mouth. The creature that sat in a pile on the floor and breathed like a snake hissing, who touched him with a thin, freezing hand, a hand so thin it was just bones, whose neck was cracked sideways and spine broken, who was only human by the long brown of her blood matted hair.
The creature that had haunted him every time the nurses had tied him down and drugged him- and most of the time, even without the drugs, haunting his sleep in nightmares anyway.
She'd terrified him, the first time he'd seen her.
And many of the times after it, if he was being really honest with himself.
Right now, though, he'd known it was coming, just known, on some deep, undeniable level- and between her, and watching those identical, padded walls close in around him and crush tight-
He'd take the woman.
The woman, though he had no idea how or why he was so sure that was what she was.
"Please," he whispered squeezing his eyes shut. "Please just leave me alone."
He heard her moving closer; it was impossible, it was insane, he knew she wasn't real at all but he could still hear her slipping and slithering to him, frail bones cracking, the cold slick of wet blood wiped over the padded floor. "But," she called to him, in that creaking, croaking death rattle, "you don't want to be alone anymore. That's why I came."
Ed just kept his eyes shut.
"...No," he gasped out, when he'd finally managed to keep his voice steady. He was half terrified, but wouldn't let himself yank away; not in this straitjacket when all he'd do was make a fool of himself. To something that wasn't even real. "You showed up because they drugged me. That's it."
She laughed warmly, and that was terrifying, too. "You were always such a smart boy, Ed," she told him. "So very smart," and it took every fiber of his being not to pull away screaming.
He hated this. He hated her. He hated seeing her so many times, he hated seeing this nightmare creature who spoke to him like she knew him, he hated feeling like his brain was pouring out his ears because he was goddamn crazy, there was no other explanation, there was none, he was a fucking lunatic locked in a padded cell talking to nightmare thin air and-
And he knew she cared about him.
If... if she'd ever been real...
She'd once cared about him.
He knew that. That was a fact.
...wasn't it...?
Ed swallowed tightly, his heart caught in a stranglehold in his chest as it pounded in sheer terror and disbelief, and this time he couldn't help it anymore and pressed himself back against the wall, squirming as much as he could to just get away. There was no point thinking about this; he'd never know and he'd never be sure and he'd never accomplish anything while he was locked in his room and she was sitting right there with him. There was another hiss and crackle of bone, her moving forwards again, and this time his eyes were wrenched open because he just couldn't keep them closed anymore.
He kept his head turned away as severely as he could, perversely thankful the straitjacket left him at least that much. He kept his back pressed against the wall and his head turned away so all he could see was her hair, that blessedly normal hair.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another one of her teeth fall limply and clatter to the ground, landing in blood.
"I'm sorry," he blurted out.
She moved closer again, not touching him yet, just close enough for him to glimpse the black, bleeding nightmare that she was beyond her human hair. "What for, sweetheart?"
His breath caught in his throat again, so harsh he nearly bled with the pain of it.
She always called him that.
Why did he trust her?
Why did he know her?
"I d-don't know," he stammered miserably, shutting his eyes again. "But I am. I'm- I'm really, really sorry. Does that make sense?" He stopped, then laughed weakly, shaking his head at himself as he let himself slump back against the wall, lost and insane. "I'm s-sorry, I- I don't have a fucking clue why I'm even asking. You're not real!"
There was another cold, still silence, broken only by the hissing rattle of her breath.
"It does make sense," she told him quietly after a moment, and her voice was just as warm as her laugh.
Ed turned his face even more away, twisted so much it hurt his neck, and fought to keep his eyes shut and his ears closed until the drugs wore off, and she was gone.
The woman wasn't the only one he saw.
She was the only one who spoke to him- but she wasn't the only one.
They came back after the second or third round of drugs, the nurses always returning to redose him a little while after they'd worn off, not speaking to him, not saying a word. The lights stayed on, searing through him first when the nurses were there, his head pounding and his body freezing and his stomach hurting and faintly nauseated, then still searing through them hours later when the nurses were gone- but the creatures who existed only in his mind came back.
He was sick and exhausted the whole time, but had long ago given up trying to figure out when it was night, so he could try to sleep. He didn't even have a clue what day it was, anymore.
But the woman came, again- and this time she came with others, others that he'd seen before, others that he still didn't know. Others who couldn't be real, just like the woman couldn't be real, others who made no sense; a dog with metal limbs, a girl he couldn't see but could just barely hear her yelling, a giant, hollow suit of armor that stood with its back to him and never once spoke-
None of it could be real, but it... it had to be. It just...
It had to be.
He tried not to look at him but thy followed him around the room, somehow there even when he curled as much as he could and pressed his face against the wall. The nightmare woman, though-
She just watched him, and smiled.
And she fucking terrified him, as much as he- trusted her.
Ed was scared to death of her, but somehow, on some level... he trusted her.
He trusted her miles more than the goddamn nurses, but that was no surprise- but he trusted her more than anyone. More than- than Roy. He didn't have a clue who or what she was but some part of him just knew to trust her.
God, he had fucking lost his mind.
"You shouldn't ignore us, Ed," the thing told him quietly; he could almost hear the rotting smile on her voice. "We're just here to help you."
"You're not fucking helping me! You-" He broke off, gasping, then just squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe. The darkness didn't help, not with the white pressing in all around him, the white that was all there was and was always there. "I don't know any of you."
The dog barked somewhere in his ears, the girl laughed, the suit of armor stood silent. The bloody woman, though, smiled again; he saw her hair shift again in the corner of his eye. "You do. You do, Ed... not consciously, perhaps- but some level of you remembers us."
Ed tried and utterly failed to muster another sense of calm; his heart was pounding so fast he'd forgotten how to breathe. He tugged miserably at the straitjacket, just wanting the freedom to stretch his hand out, to move, but there was nothing except a whimper in his throat and laughter in his head.
He didn't remember them.
He'd tried, as hard as he fucking could, he'd tried-
But every single time, it felt like ramming his head again a brick wall.
Looking at that rotting, not dead corpse of a woman, he wasn't so sure he even wanted to remember...
"But you need to, sweetheart," the woman cajoled gently, and Ed had given up being scared a long fucking time ago that she responded to things only in his own head. "You have things you have to do- people you have to protect- friends who care for you. There's so much you have to do." She gestured for him, to the metal-limbed dog and the girl he couldn't see and the metal armor that never faced him; Ed's heart skipped another few beats, squeezing tightly in his chest with emotion he couldn't identify.
"W-why... why doesn't he talk to me?" he whispered, staring up at the silent, unmoving giant, the armor that he could see even from here was hollow. It was just a museum display, just an ancient suit set up against the wall to collect dust and be forgotten- but- but he knew that wasn't true! It was empty but it meant something to him- it meant someone! "Why don't you talk to me?!" he cried, stretching against the jacket-
And the armor didn't move an inch or say a word.
Again, it was that rotting woman who spoke to him in that warm death rattle, that sweet, kind croak. "You have to remember."
"I'm trying! I'm trying but I can't!" he fought miserably against the restraints again, staring up at the cold armor- god it was so empty he could see the night sky through it, cold stars and a colder moon and an even colder black sky, the sky that was as empty as the armor itself- the armor was empty, why did he hate that, why did he hate to look at that?! "I can't remember! I'm sorry!"
"That's right," she comforted warmly again, comforted him when the armor refused to move. "You can't remember."
"I'm- s-sorry, I- I can't-"
"Not while you're still here."
His breath caught again, and this time he almost- almost- looked at her. He stopped himself just in time, wrenching back away so he could see the empty armor and the sky through it and not her, just her hair, always just her long, brown, familiar human hair. "What... b-but... but I can't just- just leave! I- I want to get out of here, I want to get back to Roy, I need to find Al- I need to find out who Al is- but I-"
"You need to use the array, Ed. You know what you have to do, to get out of here- to find Al, and get back to Roy. You have to use the array... that's all you have to do."
"NO!" he shouted, wrenching away in terror, gasping, shaking his head back and forth all over again. That array- that terrible, wrong, wrong array- "no, I can't, stop, I can't do that-"
"Why can't you?" she stopped him, slow and comforting. Reassuring. Terrifying. "There's nothing stopping you, Ed. You can use it, I know you can-"
"It's wrong! It's wrong! I can't! No!"
"But why?"
"I don't know!"
She nodded to him again, a warm smile reflected in the cold, empty armor. "Exactly, sweetheart."
There was a long, horrible moment of silence; it was so cold he could see her breath mist in the air. See the black blood slick and freeze on the padded floor.
Her slimy, bony finger touched his face, and he just could not stop himself from crying out.
"Everything's wrong here, Ed," she told him quietly. "That array is the least of it. And if you want to try and make any of this right again... you need to get through this, and use it. You need to get out of here." She gave him one last horrifying smile, he heard the teeth crumble together, and ran her finger down his face one last time, he heard it disintegrate into failing tissue and blood- and pulled away.
"I believe in you," he heard her, a final whisper, and then she was gone- the words echoing against the emptiness of the armor and the night sky.
The array.
It was the array, that Justin had given him.
That he wasn't supposed to use.
That was wrong.
The suit of armor was beside him, and there was another woman there, a dark-haired woman that paced and he flinched with every step she took. "The second law of alchemy," she was lecturing, and he pulled away but couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare at the circle. "This is the second law of alchemy. Man's law. This circle, here," and it slammed into him like a truck, "you are not to use it, ever. Alchemist, be thou for the people- and not for themselves. Do I make myself clear?"
The second law of alchemy...
The suit of armor, as always, said nothing. Did nothing.
Like he was as dead as he was empty.
The second law of alchemy...
"I said-" she shouted, and her fist came towards him, "do I make myself clear?!"
"YES!" he shouted, curling back, trying to hide his face, but his arm wouldn't move-
The second law of alchemy...
Then the circle was gone, and all that was left was the armor, and the woman.
"Good," she said quietly. Looked down at him again. "The second law of alchemy is man's law. It's not science or alchemy that forbids it, but our own society and morality." She paused slightly, and it felt as if she was looking down to his very soul.
Ed gulped.
"The first law," she went on finally, "is different. This is forbidden by the universe itself. It violates every foundation of our world." She approached him, and then the suit of armor was gone, it was just him, and she moved closer and closer, leaning down, eye to eye, hand reaching out- "If you break the second law, I'll bury you myself. If it is the first law you break, Edward..."
The world flipped, and her face became the rotting corpse of the brown-haired, smiling woman.
"There won't be enough of you left to bury," she told him, grinning as she bled, and Ed screamed.
White exploded, and padded cell slammed back into his eyes like he'd just been punched across the face.
He lay there gasping, his bearings so far away there was no point in even trying to grasp them. His back and shoulders and arm hurt. He- the woman was-
...just a dream...
Just a... a dream...
He coughed and gasped again, trembling on the floor, sweating, and just fought not to close his eyes again or think.
The black nightmare woman, for once, wasn't there, and Ed supposed he should just be grateful for what little mercies he did have.
Justin's array...
The second law of alchemy...
"I'm sorry," the woman told him one night. Day. Whatever.
Ed had learned very well, by this point, how to look at her without looking. He could lean just so against the corner, have his head tilted just the right way, and he could just make out her outline without looking closer and realizing it was a monster that sat a foot away from him and smiled with rotted teeth. Usually, she was even nice enough to let him keep up the facade.
...Sometimes, she was nice enough.
When she apologized to him, he just tried to shrug, then gasped, the pain from the restricting jacket enough to make him want to curl up and never consider moving ever again. He gritted his teeth, waiting, shivering, tensing, waiting- when the pain had finally fallen back to just that dull throb that never left him anymore, he let himself smile instead, shaking his head carefully without daring to move his shoulders. "Now my hallucinations are apologizing to me. Fucking great. What are you even apologizing for? I'm the one who should be fucking sorry."
He didn't know why, of course. Just that he should be. And was.
Really, really sorry.
She shook her head, laughing again, human hair sweeping over crumbling shoulders. "I'm sorry this is happening to you," she said simply, like it made all the sense in the world, and Ed's reality rocked again.
He hesitated, biting his lip. "...You're... y-you're not real... right?"
He heard her warm laugh again, a sound so vibrant he couldn't believe a creature like her could make it without falling apart. "Of course I'm not. You already knew that, sweetheart."
His heart skipped another beat.
"N... no," he stammered, when he could speak again. He swallowed, trying to remember what calm was. No hospital. Roy, hugging him, wrapping a blanket around him to keep him warm. No hospital. Al. Al, Roy, not here... "No, I mean... you can't have been real. Ever. Not just now; you're- you're not possible. I couldn't have ever seen you... I..." He laughed again, trembling violently. "If r-remember you, I- I have to be fucking crazy, right? I mean, look at me! I'm..."
Once again, she smiled at him.
Smiled at him from an inch away.
Ed screamed, kicking back and throwing himself away, pressing his face into the floor as he wrenched back but he saw her smiling, still, saw nothing but her rotting face and crumbing teeth and huge, bloody eyes. "You know you're not crazy, Ed. Why are you asking me? Why are you doubting yourself now, when you've been so sure up until now?"
"Stop! Stop! I- please-" he yanked away, fighting the restraining jacket in a panic, just wanting to hide his face in his arms and never see again but she kept following him, chasing him back into the corner, she was touching him, slimy cold hands on his face, "STOP IT! PLEASE!"
"If you're so sure you're not crazy, Ed, if you're so sure you and Roy are sane- why are you doubting yourself at all?" She smiled at him, a loving smile on a dead face, and wrapped her horrifying arms around him in a feverish hug. "I love you, sweetheart," she promised, and pressed her bleeding lips and crumbling teeth to his forehead.
By the time she was gone, his throat hurt from screaming.
The nurses came in again.
Something in Ed shuddered at their appearance, knowing what was to come; more injections to bring the pain and hallucinations back, more humiliating manhandling, if he was particularly unlucky they'd pull the straps even tighter again- whatever it was, he didn't want it. He shivered in his restraints, bile swimming in his stomach, and just couldn't stop himself from flinching a little bit back as the pair walked in to face him. He glared down at the white floor, refusing to give them the respect of even looking at their fucking faces.
The nurses, however... stopped.
"Edward?" one asked quietly.
He felt his face contort into a quiet sort of snarl and kept his eyes on the ground. No. He wasn't even going to fucking look at them.
He didn't care that they were talking to him after days or weeks or whatever of silence. He didn't give a damn. He wouldn't let himself get sucked in again.
"Edward, we'd like to see if you're ready to behave yet. You've been very good, so far- we think you've earned a few of your privileges back. Would you like to eat something?"
No. He wasn't going to look at them. Wasn't going to answer. Wasn't even going to fucking flinch at their goddammed presence-
...Food?
Another gasp caught in his teeth. Before he'd even made the decision to, his head jerked back up.
It was both of the nurses, the same ones as always, both standing there, the door shut behind them like it always was. And one stood there with the same usual array of needles as before, but the other-
The other bore a small tray.
A tray of food.
Instinct drove him up off the wall, craning up almost desperately towards what he'd so long been denied, and out of nowhere, a cold, painful hunger started to gnaw at his gut.
The nurses both smiled at him, as if pleased. "I see you're interested in cooperating with us again," the one bearing the food- food, he could finally eat something- food-!- said, lowering herself carefully to sit down, cross-legged, on the padded floor. He couldn't remember their names- he'd forgotten which one was which, everything he remembered was just a sickening blur cloaked by drugs, but it didn't matter, because- "That's very good, Edward. If you do well today, we'll even take you back to your old room. How does that sound?"
He was barely even listening to her, nodding along with whatever she was saying as he looked down desperately towards the little tray. It looked horrible, a little bowl of cold soup and an even smaller package of crackers, horrible even by this hospital's standards but he wanted it- he wanted it so bad-
Ed was so enraptured by the sudden offering he didn't even realize what the nurses' intentions were until he realized he was about to be offered a bite. Shame washed over his face again and he leaned back, cringing against the wall- and how embarrassing was it that he could still feel embarrassment like this, after all they'd put him through in this room, how insane he had to look right now- but he could and all he knew as the woman raised the spoon towards him was that he didn't want this.
"N-no-" he croaked, his first word to them in- in how long had he been in here...? "No, wait, I- I can do it myself. Please?" He jerked his arm a little again, trying to indicate his restraints without having to say it. "Please, if you'll just let me go?"
The nurse without the food gave him another pitying look. "Oh, I'm afraid we can't do that just yet, Edward."
Panic and longing both beat in equal parts inside of him. "But I-"
"Edward, remember, we had to leave you in here because you weren't behaving, right? This is how we see if you've calmed down," she told him soothingly, again like he was just a little, misbehaving child. "If you let us help you now, we can see that you're ready to behave again, and we can know it's safe for us to let you out of that thing." She nodded at the tight straitjacket with another pitying look, like she hadn't forced him into it in the first place, like it was his fault it was on him and all she'd ever wanted was just to take it off. "But we don't know you're ready to behave just yet, and if we let you out before you're ready, you might hurt yourself or one of us. You understand why we can't risk that, don't you, Edward?" she asked, smiling sweetly. "We just want what's best for you, okay?"
"Right," her partner said, lifting up the spoon of broth again. "If you just let us help you, we'll know you're ready to behave again. Edward?" She proffered it a little to him, still smiling encouragingly.
Hot, sickened humiliation washed over his face again and he couldn't help but cringe back, almost ill. What? No... somehow, that was the line he couldn't cross. No. He'd been shoved into a straitjacket and thrown into little padded room like he was a madman, he had those nurses looked down at him so pityingly every single day, he should've had no pride left to lose, but this- this was it. He couldn't just sit there and let himself be spoonfed. Every fiber of his being rebelled desperately against it. He couldn't.
Because it was willing- that was what it was. Everything else he'd had no consent in, so he could still keep his one and only comfort in that he knew this wasn't his choice. That he wasn't crazy, and this shit wasn't helping him, and while he didn't yet understand what was going on he knew what he was being told was a lie and that he didn't fucking deserve this.
But... but if he just sat there, and nodded, and- and participated... if he didn't fight them, and instead actually accepted what they were doing to him... if it was willing...
He couldn't.
He couldn't do it.
"I... wait, please..." he fumbled out, mind still at a blank and a loss for words. "Wait- please, just let me go, I can do it myself- please-"
"Edward, we just explained to you why that's not an option."
"But I-"
The nurses both sighed together, sadly, again, always sadly, and the one with the food stood up. "We can see you need a little bit more time in here to learn your lesson. That's quite disappointing, Edward. We'll be back to try again tomorrow."
"Wait! Wait, I-"
It was too late. She was gone.
Ed started desperately at the already shut door, his one glimpse of freedom, then looked back to Ann who was still shaking her sadly and preparing a needle. He licked his lips frantically, already wracking his mind for how best to try and convince her. "Please, just take this off, just let me-"
"You had your chance," she said coldly, and didn't even try to ask his consent before sticking the needle into his shoulder again.
That night- later that day- Ed no longer had any sense of time anymore- he saw the woman again.
"You're still here," she told him, or maybe he was just the one that thought it, a slippery slithering voice that creaked and groaned like a death rattle.
He wanted anything more than to have the freedom to bury his face in his hand and never see again.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I- can't-"
"Why are you still here? You shouldn't be- they gave you the chance to leave."
Panic burned in his mind again, panic and guilt; he shook his head over and over, jerking it back and forth, then threw it back against the awful padded wall as hard as he could; it didn't even fucking hurt. "I... I can't do it. I'm sorry, I should've, that's just- n-no-"
Her red eyes gleamed like blood, and all she knew was that it looked sad. "You have things you need to do. Someone you need to take care of. You can't do that from in here, Ed."
The lump came back to his throat again, so tight he could barely breathe. Before he knew it, tears had filled his eyes, and even as he fought against the restraints he knew was helpless to even rub them away for them to stream down his cheeks. A black claw of an arm stroked them away, and Ed screamed.
They sat there like for minutes, Ed bound and helpless and crying, and he knew he was alone, but that didn't dispel the monster stroking his face, and he'd never felt fucking crazier in his life.
"I..." His breaths hitched brokenly again and Ed ducked his head, trembling and choking. "I w-want to go home."
She smiled at him, and two of her teeth fell out.
"I know, sweetheart," she told him gently. "And to do that, you can't be here anymore."
When the nurses came back again, the woman was gone, and Ed didn't have the strength anymore.
It was Susan holding the food again, Ann holding... those needles... He jumped when the door swung inwards, nausea and terror curling inside him, anguish burning in his throat as they approached him just like before, stopping a foot or two back to kneel on the floor and watch him like he was some mix of a feral beast and a pitiable child. "Hello again, Edward," Susan told him, watching and smiling and oh, god, I can't stand it. "Think we can try this again today?"
No. No. He didn't want to. Every fiber of his being wanted not to do this. He wanted out of here. He wanted to run away; to never stop wanting. He wanted to go find Roy and leave this hospital with him and- and go home. He didn't even know what the hell that was for him but he knew he wanted to be there more than anything in the world...
But to do that, he had to sit here and do this.
Slowly, almost gasping, Ed forced himself to nod.
The nurses exchanged an uncertain look, like back to him, equally approval and hopeful and it was horrific beyond belief and he just wanted it to stop.
He couldn't make himself speak, not even Susan rose to her feet, this time to come closer to him. "That's great, Edward!" she encouraged brightly, getting on her knees before him. "I'm very glad to hear it." Same food as yesterday, or whenever, and first she quietly ripped through the little pack of crackers. "Let's start small first, okay? Just one of these." She held it up just nudge his chin, close enough for him to take a bite, and waited.
Horrible, horrific stillness dominated.
Nothing happened.
A pin could've dropped and shattered the world.
Susan's smile slipped a little, and the hand prodded insistently at him again, the approval in her eyes just starting to fade into suspicion. "Edward?" she asked him again.
He didn't want this. Oh, god, he didn't. He was going to throw up. No.
But he couldn't be here anymore.
Slowly, sickened to his core, Ed leaned forwards and bit the cracker.
It tasted like salt and sand. It hurt to chew; it hurt even worse to swallow. He couldn't look at either one of the nurses; couldn't bear to even imagine the looks on their faces. He just sat there, pathetic and immobile and utterly helpless, and let her feed him.
He wouldn't cry. He was better than that and he wouldn't do it now. Not to them. He wouldn't give them the damn satisfaction.
His throat still felt thick.
At a point, it just felt as if Ed had somehow blocked all of it out. Like he was there, but not. His body was sitting there, eating the little bites of food proffered, but his mind had just revolted and, unable to bear it, gone somewhere far away to wait until he was over. He watched as is from a million miles away as he accepted the bites, distant and numb, and for what was far from the first time since he'd been locked in this room, he shut down to everything except what he had to do to survive.
The food slowly dwindled away, until it was gone. Now his stomach hurt, too.
Susan said something; some part of him recognized it was approving, more encouragement. She patted his shoulder, and he wanted to vomit.
He was pathetic. Helpless, weak, undeserving. He was-
Being moved. The nurses were moving him.
Panic whiplashed through him and he almost cried out; would have, if he hadn't been paralyzed in nauseated terror. For the first time in- in days? Weeks?- he was being touched, both Ann and Susan, and he started shaking; almost couldn't breathe as he sat there helplessly, complete and totally at their mercy. It took him a few seconds to realize they were taking off the straitjacket, buckle by buckle, their hands moving carefully all over him, and he couldn't stand it, it was all too much, it was unbearable, everything about this was just too much-
And then it was gone.
The straitjacket was gone.
Ed blinked. He shivered, suddenly feeling all together too vulnerable and bare, and looked down at himself. He stared.
He hadn't seen himself in... ever since he'd been locked in here. God. He almost didn't even recognize himself. All of him was caught between so numb it didn't exist and throbbing so badly he wanted to scream; his arm had deep red impressions from the restraints, furrows around his wrist so deep it didn't look human, his hand shivering agonizing as blood flow rushed back into it-
But he was free again.
For the first time, he was free.
Ed shook violently as the nurses both carefully maneuvered him upright again, bewilderingly actually grateful for the support because he would've landed flat on his face without it. He was helped, not forcefully dragged, just helped over to the door, out of his little cell to a waiting wheelchair, and this time the indignity of it didn't even register. He didn't care. He was free. They took him out of the padded room he'd been locked in for so long and the door shut behind and he was free!
He trembled as he was lowered into the wheelchair again, the nurses saying something to him, he didn't even know what. His mind spun and suddenly it felt as if the walls were crushing in around him, everything abruptly dangerous, everything horrifically wrong. He was free, but, but- oh, god. It was too much. He'd been in that little white room in that tight white jacket for too long; to suddenly be out here again- it was overwhelming to the point he couldn't even think.
Suddenly, his leg was pulled up to the wheelchair, pressed as tight as he could to his chest. He could barely move his arm, and his shoulder screamed, but he wrapped it around his leg anyway, tugging it as close as was physically possible. He buried his head in the safety of his little cocoon, almost breathlessly relieved for the chance and freedom to finally be able to it. The nurses didn't exist, the unfamiliar hallways didn't exist, the wheelchair didn't exist; nothing existed beyond the little ball he'd curled himself into and the terror of each and every step that they took.
I did it. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free but I'm still terrified. I can't breathe. I'm free. I'm free. I'm free and I'm scared. I'm free.
They pushed him onwards for a time; he didn't know how long, at once both too long and not even a second. Through more doors, through more strange halls he didn't know; Ed was way fucking past the point that he couldn't handle it and just stayed shut down, letting them push him all the way into oblivion.
Until eventually, he stopped moving.
Ed kept his head down, just incapable of facing anything else. He didn't resist as the nurses started to lift him up again, taking him out of the wheelchair to lower him down to the freezing floor; they didn't force him to unfurl and that was all that mattered to him right now. He stayed where he was put, gasping into his knee and keeping his eyes shut, and when their hands retreated, he was too shaken to even feel relieved.
But like all things in this place, however, the luxury to be even close to at peace was short-lived.
"Well, here we are again, Edward- try two. Are you participate in the treatment this time?"
The trembling continued. He still felt sick. He still could barely think.
But those words were enough to wrench him straight back to the present.
That doctor. Justin.
Ed whipped his head up out of his arms before he'd even comprehended what that meant.
He was back in the room from before. The room with array- where everything had gone wrong. The same array as before. Too big, too complicated, too black, too much; the same stone sitting right in the center of it. The nurses behind him with the wheelchair.
And Justin, standing right outside of the circle, looking down at him.
Waiting.
Ed balked.
Justin watched him expectantly, no patience or room for failure in his eyes, just standing there over him-
And there was that circle.
Bad. Wrong. Dangerous. He shouldn't. He wasn't supposed to. It was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Second law of alchemy. WRONG.
Just like last time...
If you mess up they'll do it to you again. They'll put you back in the wheelchair and take you back to the padded room and put you in the straitjacket and leave you. They'll just leave you there. They won't even give you another chance for weeks. You'll be back there. Again. Forever.
They're going to take you back there.
He heard the woman's death rattle in his mind again, the hiss and creak of you have to find Al, and again saw the white padded walls crushing in around him until he couldn't breathe.
"Well, Edward?" Justin asked him once more. "Are you ready to behave?"
I can't-
I can't-
I CAN'T-
He threw himself forwards, a sob building in his throat, and slammed his hand down straight into the array.