As usual, I'm really sorry this took so long, but unlike as usual, I can't really explain why at the beginning because the reason is literally the plot of the chapter.
I've also been doing a lot of research and editing on this chapter and so I really don't like the ending. It feels fake and tired to me because I worked on it so much.
Ah, well.
I don't know what I'm gonna write about next. I'm not feeling too good about Strategems because my rejection sensitivity got in the way, as it always does, so I don't know if I'll continue it.
I LOVE HOSEOB HE'S SO CUTE!
To Edward, it was as if he was glaring at Brigadier General Mustang through spasming eyes one moment, then lying between Brigadier General Mustang and his brother on a hard train seat beneath a thin, cotton blanket the next.
Upon seeing a compartment ceiling after opening his eyes, Ed sat up so quickly he smacked his forehead into his brother's shoulder. Alphonse squealed and reached out as if to catch him. When Edward didn't fall, Al studied his brother's face, his own wrinkled with worry. He must have found what he was looking for because his whole body relaxed, though his expression remained concerned.
"Brother? Are you…"
"What… where…" Edward blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the cloud of static that had taken up residence in his brain. He felt soft yet calloused hands touch his arm and then Winry was kneeling in front of him, holding his chin with her fingers.
"What's five plus seven?"
Some distant part of Ed's brain balked at the randomness of the question, but it felt detached, like it was an accessory rather than a feature. He blinked at her stupidly while some deeper level of consciousness rumbled to life inside of him. That level recognized in the words in the question to be numbers and recognized the numbers for what they were. Still, he had to make his mouth recreate them in order to work out the answer.
"Five… seven… is twelve… I think…"
Despite the answer being correct, Alphonse looked horrified, as if his brother had spat out the most vulgar swear in the Amestrian language.
"He's coming out of it," Winry said, her expression unreadable. "His nervous system's in shock. We need to give him to recalibrate." She said it like Edward was a particularly complicated piece of machinery.
She let go of Ed's chin and he found himself slumping down against the seat, the leather sticking to his skin. He felt the combination of softness and scratchiness of the fabric of the dress clothes Mustang wore when he wasn't in his uniform. That detached part of him recoiled in horror at the sensation on his cheek but his body simply closed its eyes.
"Really, Fullmetal? The best you can do is three minutes?"
"Sir, please."
"Let him sleep. It will help his nerves reorder themselves."
XXX
The details returned to him when he woke up the second time.
He remembered what felt like a kind of repetitive falling, like he had been trapped on a malfunctioning lift in the dark, with a few sparse moments of silent lightning. Whatever storm he had been caught in had migrated beneath his skin. His body felt heavy like cloud plump with rain and his skin tingled with what felt like captured electricity. He forced his head to move and stared across the compartment at Winry and Colonel Hawkeye. Winry had fallen asleep but Riza was awake and watching him like the sentinel she was.
"How are you feeling?"
Riza's question caused someone next to Edward to shift, leaning over him to see his open eyes. Alphonse looked his brother up and down, then quickly moved aside when Ed pulled himself upright. Edward's head fizzled like his skull was full of soda.
"How are you -"
"Fine."
Edward cut off Hawkeye's reiterate too swiftly for Alphonse's liking.
"No, you're not."
"How would you know?"
"Because you're slurring your words."
Was he? He sounded normal to his own ears, even if his jaw felt like hot toffee.
Before the matter could be discussed further, the compartment door slid open and Mustang sidled in, one small ceramic bowl in his hand and another in the crook of his arm. He used his free hand to pull the door closed and saw Ed sitting up. His brows rose and stood silently for a moment, as if he was waiting for Edward to do something. When this didn't happen, he proffered one of the bowls. Ed stared at its contents.
"It's a parfait. Take it."
Edward blinked lazily at the berry-studded yogurt dusted with granola and turned his face away. Roy shoved it in his face like Ed was a dog refusing to eat medicated kibble.
"Miss Rockbell was quite insistent that we get something in you when you woke up. You haven't had anything to eat in almost twenty-four hours."
That made Ed turn his face back to the general - and into the bowl of yogurt.
Mustang laughed as the bowl dropped from Ed's face and into his hands, and the laughter combined with Edward's sputtering made Winry jerk away with a "Huh?" She saw Edward wiping yogurt and crushed berries from his chin and nose and all traces of sleep vanished like vapor under the sun.
"You're awake! And you're eating. Good."
She looked him up and down and frowned, looking at the general.
"Did you get him something to drink?"
Mustang's jaw hardened and he took a breath as if to speak.
"He needs fluids," Winry said, her blue eyes turning to steel. "Do they have lemonade? He needs something with electrolytes but not too sugary."
"I will get it," Roy said before Winry could snap at him again. "You," he all but dropped the second bowl into her lap, where she caught it reflexively, "also need to eat something." He slid the door aside and stepped out of the compartment, pulling it closed behind him without another word.
Edward realized Mustang hadn't brought spoons.
His answer to this problem was to drop his face back into the bowl and slurp its contents like a stew.
"Brother!"
"Wh't 's goin' on?" Edward mumbled through strawberries and granola.
Alphonse rolled his eyes and sighed, resting his forehead in his palm - a habit he had learned from Granny Pinako.
"You had a seizure. A really bad one."
"I remember that." Edward sucked up another mouthful of parfait.
"And then you had another one."
Edward studied Winry's schooled expression and saw the exhaustion she tried to hide behind it.
"In a row?"
"No. We got you into the general's car once after your first one. You had your second one at the train station. You seemed to wake up and you looked around and then you started seizing all over again." She stared at her yogurt.
That would explain the bizarre floating and falling memories and perhaps the lightning had been the sun or the lights of the station passing over him. It did not, however, explain their cause.
"Why did we go to the station?"
Alphonse exchanged wary glances with Winry. It was the colonel who answered his question.
"We're taking you to a specialist."
Edward would have sat up if his body hadn't felt like it was made of cement.
"No."
"Edward, please." Winry's face showed that she was fighting the urge to cry. Edward gave her the best glare he could manage with his cheeks coated in parfait.
"I don't need… special treatment."
"It's not -"
"Then why's it called a specialist if it's not special?"
"Because it's easier than trying to remember a complicated word like 'neurologist.'"
Edward let his eyes rove to his brother expectantly.
"Someone who studies the nervous system, so they know a lot about brains and brain damage."
There were those stupid words again.
"Goddammit, I don't need a neero… ner… a specialist! And I don't have dain bramage!"
"It's just a precaution, Edward." Hawkeye's voice was soft but her eyes were hard. Before he could protest further, she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and leaned across the compartment to wipe the yogurt from his face. When he tried to pull away, her other hand came up to hold his shoulder and keep him still.
Of course, it was at that moment that door moved aside and there was Mustang, one glass of lemonade in one hand and another in the crook of his arm. He waited patiently for Riza to finish her work, then stepped inside with a smirk he made no effort to hide.
"Would you like some complimentary bread as well?" he asked sarcastically as he thrust one of the glasses in front of Ed's nose.
Edward snatched the cold cup and nearly dropped it from the slipperiness of the condensation.
"Fuck off."
"Brother! I"m so sorry, General -"
"I'm not."
"Ed, please."
"No."
"Edward, we're trying to help you." Winry's cheeks had bloomed two spots of color. She had turned her worry into anger. The sight made Ed go light-headed for a reason that was very different from his brain.
"I don't need help."
"No, you need divine intervention," grumbled the general, who made the mistake of sitting next to Edward, who retaliated by shoving his elbow into the man's ribs. Roy pretended not to notice.
"Doctor Holly has been checking the general regularly for the past six months. She knows what she's doing."
Edward felt Mustang stiffen next to him.
"Colonel." His voice was a warning growl.
Hawkeye met his ire stoically.
"There's nothing shameful about receiving appropriate medical treatment. Or was what you said to Fuery a lie to reassure him?"
Her words were met with an awkward silence that was broken by Alphonse.
"Sergeant Fuery?"
Mustang scowled at Hawkeye, who's dirty look far surpassed his. Upon loosing the staring contest, Roy sighed long-sufferingly and wiped his hand down his face.
"The sergeant is… he's not been well."
"He's been admitted to the Hughes Memorial War Hospital." Riza's answer was meant to be flat, but there was still a tremor buried beneath.
Edward was surprised by the sudden blurriness in his eyes.
"You… you chose a name for it."
He had known about the center for war veterans that the general and the colonel had commissioned, but the last he had heard of it, a proper name for the facility had still been being discussed.
"Mrs. Bradley made the final decision. There was a lot of push to call it King Bradley Memorial, but the First Lady thought her husband had already received enough accolades." There was silver lining to Roy's black eyes that was more than metaphorical. "Sergeant Kain Fuery was one of its first patients, on order of President Fuhrer Grumman."
"And highly suggested by you no doubt," Alphonse said without unnecessary tact."
"I wish my parents could have seen it," Winry sighed sadly, moving a blueberry through her yogurt with a finger.
"We didn't forget them."
Winry glanced at her, waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn't, Winry turned her attention back to her parfait and didn't press further.
XXX
Edward was not permitted to move aside from visiting the lavatory. Even then, Alphonse had to go with him to catch him if he started seizing while he was upright.
Normally, Edward would have raged at the patronization. His lack thereof and his contentment at laying down with a chunk of ice wrapped in cloth pressed against his head lent more support to his companions' argument. He and Winry spent the remainder of the trip sleeping, with Alphonse finally joining them at Riza's assurance that they would wake him if anything happened.
Winry in particular was exhausted. She had been awake since they'd departed for the train station in the rented horse and cart the general and colonel had leased the previous afternoon, refused to sleep during the night on the train, and ate only the "complimentary bread," as Mustang had called it, for supper. She'd refused to take a turn going to the dining car, staying at her patient's side in case he stirred or seized. Alphonse had slept but his sleep had been fitful. Roy and Riza had taken turns sleeping and keeping watch, their military training letting them fall into an easy routine. Without verbal agreement, Hawkeye shrugged off her cardigan and draped it over Winry's shoulders as the girl slept against her and Mustang did the same for Edward. He resisted the urge to work the cramp out of his thigh so that he wouldn't wake the boy using his leg as a pillow.
It was midday when they reached the station at East City. The delay had rankled Roy to no end, but the earliest train hadn't been an express one. A part of him still wondered if it would have been ironically faster to wait until morning so they wouldn't have to deal with the stopping, unloading, reloading, and starting at each station along the way, but Winry and Alphonse had been insistent. Yes, the carriage train would take longer, but if they waited for the mid-morning express, they wouldn't reach the city until the late afternoon or eve evening.
Even so, Mustang's militaristic conditioning roiled at the impracticality.
XXX
The cab ride to the hospital had been awkward, to say the least.
Edward had resigned himself to sulking, still insisting that he didn't need medical attention of any kind. Winry kept reminding him that, as his general practitioner, she had the authority to demand that he receive the medical attention he didn't want. Alphonse would try to placate his brother and would get a nasty scowl for his efforts, and then they would return to the now familiar tense silence until the cycle repeated itself.
Mustang made sure to tip the noticeably put-off driver when they were dropped off at their destination.
When Edward was told to have a seat on one of the park benches leading up to the building while Riza went ahead to fetch a wheelchair, Roy had been certain that the former Fullmetal Alchemist was going to bite someone.
"No!"
"Yes, Edward."
"No! You can't make me!"
"Brother, please -"
"Don't you 'Brother, please' me, Al."
"Fullmetal, this is incredibly immature."
Edward's head swiveled to Roy and he could see the pinched lines on the boy's forehead that gave away the amount of pain he was in. It had been a fight to get him to take the painkillers for his post-seizure migraine, but either the medication hadn't been strong enough or its effects hadn't yet begun.
"You're immature, bastard!"
"Clearly."
"Edward, we only want to keep you as comfortable as possible."
Riza's gentle voice smoothed the skin on Edward's brow and he ducked his head, unable to meet her eyes. Mustang still wondered where on earth she had learned that particular power of hers.
"The doctor's waiting for us. Let's not keep her too long, she has other patients to see."
Edward glared at the sidewalk.
"I'm not a patient."
"You're my patient, you moron!" Winry snarled, the temper she had been leasing so well for the past hour finally breaking free.
Riza, however, didn't honor the remark with a response. She simply took Ed's hand and pulled him upright, a motion he did not protest, and helped him into the chair. Again, Riza didn't saw a word. She turned the chair and pushed it toward the hospital, it's newly refurnished white painted brick walls giving it a burnished atmosphere.
"It's a disused consumption house," Roy said in answer to Alphonse's studying eyes as they followed Edward and the colonel from a respectful distance. The tendons in Alphonse's neck protruded as he made an expression of distaste. He knew all too well what those were.
"Well, at least the facility's getting a second chance. This time it's actually useful."
Roy thought of the hospital's former residents, left there by their families to die of tuberculosis. He thought of the new ones who were left there for a very different reason.
"Here's hoping so," he said under his breath.
XXX
The inside of the hospital was deceptively charming.
The windows were long and the drapes were drawn with potted plants lining the sills. The reception area smelt of flowers and pine trees from the scented candles burning on the desk. The receptionist herself was a small, soft-voiced woman who smiled when they came in, a smile that doubled in size when she saw the general.
"Good afternoon, Brigadier General. Doctor Sharp is eager to meet your friend."
"I'm not his friend," Edward grumbled, his chin resting in his hand. The receptionist continued smiling as if Ed hadn't spoken. Winry and Alphonse still apologized on his behalf in unison.
"She's in exam room 4. Would you like me to walk you down?"
"No, thank you, Esmeralda. I know this place like the back of my hand. I commissioned it, after all."
XXX
Holly Sharp was in the age range of a woman in which one could only tell that she wasn't in her twenties. Her silver hair fell over her shoulder in curls and though hazel eyes were bright, they held a hardness that demanded obedience. She smiled professionally and nodded in greeting to Mustang, then turned her full attention Edward.
"Hello, Mr. Elric. I've been told you've been experiencing neurological issues."
"Yeah, it's this idiot here," Ed said, pointing at Roy. "Do you got a medicine to get rid of a lump bastard that won't fall off?"
Edward had expected, even wanted, a stern rebuke and a lecture on respecting his elders. Instead, she glanced at the clipboard in her hand, reading whatever paper was attached to it.
"Would you like the brigadier general to leave the room?"
"You can't tell me what - what?"
"You're a legal adult, Mr. Elric," Holly said, not looking up from her paper. "Whoever is privy to your medical information is entirely dependent on you. If you do not wish the brigadier general to be knowledgeable of what happens in this room, I am morally and legally obligated to insist that he leave."
Edward opened and closed his mouth like a beached fish for a moment, his finger pointed anticlimactically accusingly at the woman. When he didn't answer, she looked up from her reading and looked Ed straight in the eye.
"Do you wish the brigadier general to leave?"
"I… No."
Roy raised a brow in surprise but didn't comment.
"Very well. To start, let's get your vitals. It would be helpful if you removed your shirt, but if you don't feel comfortable with that, you may leave it on."
Ed had long since lost his ability to be ashamed of the scarring on his right side, but the colostomy was still relatively new territory to him. But Doctor Holly was, well, a doctor, so she was less likely to have a dramatic reaction than others. With Winry's help, he gingerly pulled his shirt off - his night shirt, which he'd been wearing for the past two days, he realized with a stab of embarrassment - and waited for whatever her response would be.
Doctor Holly pursed her lips and made a "hmm" noise. Edward could tell that she was curious but too polite to ask questions.
"I had automail," he heard himself blurting.
"Has automail. His left leg is artificial past his thigh," Winry quickly corrected.
"Yes, I'm aware. I requested your medical history when the colonel called me," Doctor Holly said, nodding in Hawkeye's direction. To both the brothers' surprise, she addressed her next question at Alphonse. "I was told you have some muscular and skeletal conditions due to poor nourishment during your adolescence. As such, I will be giving you a lower dose of anything I may prescribe you to account for your lower body mass. Do you have any questions or concerns regarding this decision?"
Alphonse looked at his brother, as if he thought Doctor Holly might have confused the two of them, then behind him, as if he thought she was talking to someone he couldn't see. "Me?" he finally asked, pointing to himself.
Holly smiled.
"Yes, you."
"But… but this appointment is for Brother."
"I was told you were both experiencing neurological issues related to past trauma."
"But Brother -"
"Is not the only person who's struggling," said Hawkeye, placing a hand on Al's shoulder as if she thought he might try to move away. "Just because your body couldn't be hurt doesn't mean the same was true for your mind. You told the general that you've been jumpy lately and that you've been having nightmares?"
"They both regularly scream themselves awake in the middle of the night," Winry supplied nonchalantly.
Alphonse blushed and studied his shoes. Edward turned in his chair and glared at her.
"But… but that's hardly anything…"
Roy sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his right hand. After a moment of internal debate, he lowered his hand and looked at the brothers with a disposition akin to embarrassment.
"That's what I said, but… I've been…"
"The general's been diagnosed with war neurosis," said Riza, in a soft, gentle voice that made it sound like she was saying that Roy had some kind of terminal illness. Then, with a deep breath, she said, "And so have I."
Alphonse's eyes widened in surprise, then lowered in sympathy. Winry winced like she had seen a particularly bad amputation.
"Oh… General, Miss Riza, I'm sorry."
Roy pointedly looked away. Riza appeared less upset and more resigned, like she had already gotten her affairs in order and had nothing left to do but wait for the end.
Edward had heard of war neurosis. That did not mean that he knew what it was. Alphonse had read all sorts of books during the nights, but when Ed was awake, he had focused solely on alchemy and studies into the Philosopher's Stone. As a result of this, Edward gauged the seriousness of the matter by the officers' body language.
A sickly lump of ice formed in his gut.
"So… how long do you have?"
Riza cast Edward a bemused expression that morphed into laughter and even the general couldn't stop himself from cracking a smile. Winry shook her head like Edward had lost any remaining potential he'd had in life by opening his mouth. Doctor Holly chuckled to herself and bent on one knee so that she was eye to eye with Edward in his wheelchair.
Ed briefly considered breaking her nose.
"The general and colonel aren't dying, Mister Elric, and neither are you and your brother. War neurosis is a medical condition that's been studied for awhile, but it's only recently been added to the records as a recognized diagnosis. It's treatable and nothing to be ashamed of," she said the last words with a meaningful glance at Mustang, who crossed his arms stubbornly. Clearly, Roy was intent on arguing that he did, in fact, have a reason to be ashamed. It was so "Mustang" that Edward found the man's attitude oddly comforting.
"We call it 'soldier's heart' in the automail industry. It's best practice to always assume that your patient is or will have it since losing a limb can be psychologically scarring, especially it it was lost in combat," Winry added, never not the automail engineer she was.
"Wait," Alphonse said, pieces of what he was now realizing was a puzzle coming together in his head. "Is that why Mister Fuery is here?"
The brothers knew that Kain had been sent to the trenches before the Promised Day and it had taken a direct order from the newly appointed Brigadier General Mustang for him to be returned to East City.
Doctor Holly pursed her lips and said nothing, but the colonel nodded sadly and the general went back to looking at nothing in particular.
"He's been placed on temporary medical leave until the doctors here see an improvement."
"Healing from any kind of hurting requires patience and a trained hand," said Doctor Holly. "The brigadier general asked me to serve as the latter. Now," she said, her professional demeanor falling back over her like a coat, "let me ask you some questions so I can determine how best to proceed. If at any point you wish to speak to me in private, I will ask the rest of the party to take their leave. You do not have to answer if you don't wish to."
Edward crossed his arms.
"Great. I don't wish to."
Alphonse groaned and threw his hands in the air.
"Brother, really?!"
"Come on, Al, let's go home."
"Brother, no. You need a doctor - a brain doctor," when Edward pointed behind him at Winry, who blushed fiercely and became very interested with a detailed illustration of a human skull on the wall.
"Yeah, like I need a hole in my head. Maybe we can grab some ravjul before we get on the train."
Alphonse planted his feet and gripped the handle of Edward's chair so tensely his knuckles turned white.
"We're staying here."
"Well, I'm not!"
Edward stood up, pushing himself out of the chair with wobbly limbs and swaying torso.
He realized his mistake too late.
The muscles in his neck started twitching and jumping and his hands rose to his throat as if he thought he could hide it from the doctor's view or stop the spasms through sheer will power.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," he croaked when he felt the twitching shift from his neck to his left shoulder and the left side of his face.
"Brother!"
Alphonse all but pushed Edward back into the wheelchair.
"Don't touch him!" Doctor Holly ordered, though a bit too late. Al's push had aggravated whatever chain reaction was burning through Ed's nerves and the twitching shoulder and pulsing neck became a thrashing arm and jerking head.
"My God," Holly whispered, watching the progress with eyes gleaming with something unnervingly close to reverence. "I've only read about this in books."
"Wait, you think - I thought it looked like it, but I was sure it couldn't be…" Winry had the same expression she got when she saw a new model of screw or welder. Al wasn't sure if that was reassuring or concerning.
"Yes, this is definitely a marching seizure," she said, watching raptly as Ed's leg joined in on the party his body was throwing. "Look, you can see it moving on to the feet. Fascinating."
Edward would have liked to tell the lady where exactly she could stick her fascination.
Unfortunately, that was the instant when he lost consciousness.
XXX
When he awoke, it was to the subtle floating feeling of pain medication and Winry's hand on his forehead. He couldn't tell if she was testing for fever or petting him. Upon seeing his open eyes, she moved her hand from his head to his back and helped him sit up. The world swam dangerously around him and then came back into focus. They were in a darkened room with what Edward first thought was a window, then realized as he came more awake to be a row of elongated light bulbs arranged in a square glowing on the wall.
Ed had seen his fair share of electricity in the cities, but this was still the weirdest lamp he'd ever seen.
"What?"
"They're getting the pictures ready."
Edward nearly jumped out of his skin. Alphonse had been hidden by the shadows, and even now all Edward could really see of him was a black silhouette and glowing eyes.
"The general and the colonel are getting us some food," Winry added, her grip on his hand tightening like she was expecting him to suddenly start seizing again - she probably was.
"My head doesn't hurt," Ed said stupidly, touching his forehead with his free hand as if he was disappointed by the lack of pain.
"They gave you a shot of pain medication and a little muscle relaxant to keep the migraine away. Food will also help. You've been out for awhile."
"How long?"
"About five hours," said Al's shadow. "We got here at lunchtime and it's just about dinner time now."
Edward doubted they had actually had any lunch. His stomach twisted in more than hunger.
He pushed himself upright with a shoulder, was struck by a wave of dizziness, and let himself fall back onto the gurney he'd apparently been moved to. Ed wondered if he had been placed on it as soon as his is seizure had ended and and been laying on it ever since of he'd only been placed on it when they needed to move him from room to room. He got his answer when a door to an only slightly more lit room opened and closed. The person who passed through looked like they were a shiny double-sided apron. It made them look like an overstuffed sandwich.
"Okay," he said in greeting, the sound of his voice giving away his gender. Ed heard the sound of something like waxed paper being shifted and then the man was blocking the square lamp. By the sound of it, he was pinning a paper to the lamp, although for what reason, Ed couldn't fathom. Winry made the excited gasping noise she always made when she saw some new medical or engineering technique.
Al, on the other hand, had a very different reaction.
The suddent thud and Winry's second gasp, this time of horrified shock, and the man's unapologetic "Oh dear," was all he had to go on without any light to see.
Edward swung his legs over the gurney and stood on his feet, ignoring the bizarre sensation of seeing the world spin without seeing anything.
"Al? Alphonse? Al?!"
The man moved out of the way of the lamp to help Winry lift Alphonse off the floor and Edward saw the black and white shape contrasted by the bulbs.
"Oh."
And then he had to sit down.
He took a spot on the floor so they could put Alphonse on the gurney.
Edward had had radiographs before. He'd had one before the surgery after the Promised Day when the doctors had removed the remains of his automail arm from his shoulder. A few years earlier, he'd had his first radiograph after he broke his left leg in three different places after one of Mustang's missions for him had gone particularly awry. He hadn't thought much of seeing his shattered leg - he had seen it before, after all, in all its bloody glory when he and his brother had committed human transmutation. He hadn't seen the one of his arm and shoulder.
It was somehow completely different when the picture was of his skull.
"Easy, Al. It's okay."
Alphonse answer to Winry's attempted soothing was a disbelieving groan.
"That is a very common reaction," said the man. "Most people don't see human bones outside of a graveyard."
This was the wrong thing to say.
If Edward hadn't been too busy clambering back onto the gurney to hold his now weeping baby brother, he would have broken every single tooth in this terrible man's head.
A door opened somewhere and Doctor Holly's voice rang out in an exclamation of fury.
"Good God, Tomas, what have you done?!"
"I didn't do anything, ma'am. I just put up the radiograph and the other boy fainted."
Holly sighed.
"It's not your fault, Tomas. How about you go see if the archivists need any help in the records room?"
"Yes, ma'am. Right away, ma'am."
Then the lights were turned on and Edward had to blink several times for his eyes to adjust. He pulled away from his brother so that Alphonse could see his face and tried to rub the tears from his brother's eyes with his thumbs.
"See, Al? I'm right here. I'm fine. It's okay."
Al's eyes were red and swimming with disbelief as much as tears.
"No, you're not fine! We wouldn't be here if you were fine!"
"Alphonse. Did the radiograph upset you?"
It was an inane question, asked out of politeness rather than curiosity. Alphonse gave Holly a look like she had asked him to prove the sun was yellow by walking on its surface. Holly seemed to understand this and acted as if she hadn't asked the question. She instead turned her attention to Edward and began speaking to him as if his brother wasn't there. Under different circumstances, Ed would have been deeply insulted. In this instance, he knew it was was to offer Alphonse a semblance of privacy rather than apathy.
"We made radiographs of your cranial region - your skull - while you were resting. The pictures confirm our suspicions."
Edward's shoulder was wet with his brother's tears and his hand was rubbing soothing circles on his brother's back but his eyes were on the doctor.
"Suspicions of what?"
Doctor Holly reached to switch of the light again, pausing to give Edward time to prepare himself, then turned the room dark. Ed felt his empty stomach lurch at the picture that was visible again and looked away, choosing to rest his chin on his brother's head instead.
"The right parietal region of your skull is deformed. By the looks of it, the bone was cracked here multiple times, many of which occurred before the bone could heal properly."
Edward was suddenly reminded of the thick scar above his right eye. He glanced at the radiograph before he could stop himself and noticed the lack of coincidence before he had to ok away again. As if reading his thought, Holly said, "I'm guessing that's where the mark on your forehead originates from."
Edward surprised himself by smiling wryly.
"For some reason, people love throwing things at me."
To his further surprise, both the doctor and Alphonse laughed, though his brother's giggles were wet. Edward thought he saw the shadow of Winry turn away.
"Well, this series of 'throwing things at you' has resulted in the equivalent of cracking an egg by pressing on its shell."
Edward raised his unscarred brow, a gesture the doctor couldn't see but Winry must have sensed, because she clarified.
"You get bits of shell in the yolk."
"Unfortunately, brains are a bit more sensitive than egg yolks," Holly said, tracing a finger over the lines spidering over the the side of the skull on the paper. "Each time the break was reopened, especially with considerable force, pieces of the skull would be pushed closer to the brain. Once the bone shards finally managed to reconnect, the scar tissue that formed to heal the break started putting pressure on the brain tissue beneath it. It's normal for scar tissue to swell and shrink as the body reforms it over time to become as similar in shape to the tissue its replacing, but in this instance, this shifting has been stimulating the brain tissue.
"Since this is the right parietal lobe, the brain region being stimulated is the motor gyrus - the part of the brain responsible for coordinating voluntary muscle movement. This explains the nature of your seizures and the fact that they've been affecting the left side of your body before the right."
"The brain is opposed to the body," came Alphonse's quiet, tired, but characteristically encyclopedic voice. He pulled away from his brother's shoulder and stared at the picture of Edward's fractured skull with a hardened expression. "The right hemisphere controls the left side of and the left hemisphere controls the right side."
"That's right," Doctor Holly said, a hint of a smile in her words. "The shifting of the callous is stimulating the motor gyrus, causing your muscles to respond accordingly. The brain controls the body from the top down, so the convulsions start in your face and move down to the rest of your body."
"But if it's on the right side of my brain, why is my right side getting involved?"
"Because the brain works on an electrical gradient," said Winry. She sounded oddly dispassionate about the matter of nerves and electricity. "The brain cells bothered by the lump of scar tissue are bothering the nerves next to them and those cells are bothering the cells next to them. That's why it's called a marching seizure."
"The false stimulation 'marches' across the brain until everything is effected, causing a full body seizure," Holly turned the light back on and Edward saw the unshed tears in Winry's eyes. "The aftereffects - the headache, the prolonged sleeping, the lack of appetite - are the brain's attempt to reorient itself. Seizures are very hard on the body and the brain especially needs to heal. Unfortunately, every time you recover, the callous shifts again and the process repeats itself."
"You didn't do this to me."
Holly blinked, bemused ate this apparently unrelated outburst, until she followed Edward's line of sight. Winry made a face like Edward was the stupidest idiot she'd ever met.
"You didn't do this to me."
"How do you know?!" Winry let her tears fall now. Edward knew they were tears of anger and that the anger was not meant for him. "You know I've never held back!"
"Neither have I and I don't plan starting anytime soon."
"You idiot, Edward Elric -"
"What would have caused this?"
Doctor Holly was not ready for the attention to be returned to her. None of the possible things the young man and woman could have been talking about she could think of were even remotely appropriate and she could feel that her face was the color of a ripe tomato.
"Um… what do you mean?"
"What would the things being thrown at me have to be? Like a brick or a rock or maybe… maybe a metal tool, like a… like a screwdriver."
The girl's eyes squeezed shut and more tears rolled down her cheeks.
Holly waited a moment in case this was some kind of prank and one of them would start pointing and laughing.
"Um… well, to cause this kind of damage, the projectile… projectiles… would have to have significant force. The skull isn't just fractured, it's indented. So, out of the three objects you listed, I would have to say most definitely a brick if it was falling or thrown by a force other than a human hand."
"So, not a screwdriver?"
"Not unless the screwdriver was wielded with intent to kill or if it was somehow moving unnaturally quickly. It takes five hundred and twenty pounds of force to crack a human skull this severely."
"Not even if the person was like, super strong? Like they spend all day in a workshop carrying heavy stuff until they're the buffets person in town?"
Winry made a sound between laughing and sobbing.
"Edward, stop."
"Then I would say that person must have been trying to kill you. That kind of force can't be made by the human body without panic or concentration. This is something that would take considerable effort for the average person to do.. though I have no idea why they would."
"Have you ever really meant to hurt me, Winry? Did you ever try to do more than bruise?"
Winry's glare certainly suggested that was what she was trying to do.
Then she was wrapping her arms around the brothers while calling them names so vulgar that Holly wasn't sure she recognized half of them.
"Well, now that that's… settled," she said when Winry finally let Edward and Alphonse go, "I think we can start talking about surgery."
The atmosphere in the room changed immediately.
Edward's face turned white as snow and he reached out as if to take take Winry's hand but stopped himself. Winry's demeanor was business-like and Al took hold of his brother's arm.
"S-surgery?"
Ah, right. Automail.
"That part of your skull is warped beyond repair. In order to get the seizures lessen, it and the corresponding scar tissue need to be removed. They'll be replaced by a metal plate to protect your brain from a blunt force. And you will be unconscious for all of it," she assured him, when his face continued to fall. "You will feel nothing but some slight discomfort when you wake up. You'll be given painkillers and antibiotics and you'll be bed bound for a few days, but after that I can promise you the grand mal seizures will stop."
Edward and Alphonse seemed reassured by this, but Winry's expression was quizzical. Holly admired the girl's ability to compose herself. If she hadn't witnessed it, she wouldn't have believed Winry had been crying just a few minutes before.
"The grand mal ones will stop. What about the others?"
"The others?" Edward's disheartened expression made Holly sorry to disappoint him.
"You probably know that the brain doesn't heal the same way the rest of the body does. The repeated amounts of force that caused these fractures have most certainly injured the brain directly. The seizures are more of a manifestation of this damage than something unrelated. In other words, we can remove the callous and damaged section your skull, but damage to the brain is permanent. This procedure will stop the full body episodes, but I'm almost certain that you will still have to deal with tonic clonic seizures - staring spells, small convulsions, and short-term memory issues. They can be treated with a prescription of bromide, though, so if your seizures persist after surgery, you won't have to worry about them impacting your life in any significant way."
Edward said nothing, staring at his unevenly sized arms and taking the occasional sighing breath. When the doctor finished her explanation, he lifted his gaze to her, his yellow eyes sad but resolute.
"So… how long will I have to do that?"
Holly didn't let herself look away from his sadness.
"You will most likely have to take the bromide for the rest of your life. I know it sounds bad, but epilepsy is a very livable condition."
Edward looked at his arms again, not reacting when his brother laid his head on his shoulder.
When he looked up again, there was real fear in his eyes.
"Will you… will they… are you going to cut off my hair?"
A less experienced person (perhaps Tomas) would have laughed.
Doctor Holly only smiled gently. Winry rolled her eyes and Alphonse giggled an, "Oh, Brother."
"We will only cut off what we need to. Actually, we may not even need to do that," Holly said, putting a hand to her chin in thought. "Radiographs often result in hair loss because of the iodized radiation used to make the images. We may need only to wait for nature to take its course."
It was not the diagnosis or the view of his skull that sent Edward into a spiral of despair.
When Roy and Riza returned with boxes and bags of some of the most expensive, most delicious foods in East City, they found Doctor Holly reassuring Edward that it would be only temporary, Winry was laughing so hard she was crying again, and Alphonse was offering to knit Edward a hat.
Everything I'm about to say here is 100% true.
When I first finished Scar Tissue Part 1, my aunt called me and told me that my cousin who's recovering from brain cancer was having, I kid you not, seizures caused by scar tissue left by his tumors (we thought the cancer was back but its actually just bubbles of connective tissue and the doctors can fix that. Hooray!). I put off writing this chapter just in case. When I thought it was safe and started writing this chapter - I swear to all the Gods and all that is holy that this is true - a checkup for my ADHD turned into a referral to numerology for Goddamn seizures.
At this point, I was like, "Okay, what the hell is going on?" and didn't touch this thing for weeks.
Then I finally reopened it and less than an hour - LESS THAN AN HOUR - after writing the scene where Edward ends up in a wheelchair, I threw out my back at work and had to be escorted home in a fucking wheelchair.
All this to say: if anyone ends getting an X-ray, surgery, or a bald spot, it's my fault and I am so, so sorry.
But just in case:
Alternative Ending - Edward comes across $100,000,000 and buys a beach house on the East Coast. He eats seafood and ice cream every day but magically has the body of a marathon runner. The end.