Hi guys! Welcome to story #5! And guess what? I've updated 3 days in a row now! Whoopie! Anyways, I just want to say that I will be posting another story short after this one, sort of as a Halloween present for you guys. Story #6 is a request, and I will be posting it shortly after this one. I just have to do all the editing and everything! But in the meantime, you guys can read and enjoy this chapter! And please, do leave suggestions! It seems that all I can come up with is edgy stuff. It's fine if you guys want me to write edgy stuff, but I can also write light hearted things to. Anyways, enjoy!
Summary: Edward gets his first phantom limb pain episode.
Idea came from: myself
Timeline: A month or two after Ed joins the military.
Warnings:
Notes: review reply at the end of story
Story 5: Phantom Limb Pain
It starts with the aching stumps. It is worry some, since he hasn't felt any discomfort ever since his automail recovery a year ago. Of course, he doesn't tell this to Al. Why would he? 'It's nothing', he keeps telling himself. 'It'll go away soon'.
But it doesn't.
And as the clouds roll in, the ache only seems to grow, soon spreading to his automail ports. It is a numb discomfort that stings painfully. And still, he doesn't tell Alphonse.
"Brother? You hungry for anything?" Al asks, knocking on the bathroom door. Edward has been in the bathroom for almost thirty minutes now, and Al had started to grow worried. ' Did he fall in? No, brother isn't that small.' Al chuckles at his own thoughts. If Ed could read minds, he'd be fuming right about now.
"Brother?" Al tries again, knocking. This time he can hear a retching sound, followed by a grown of pain. Al's frown returns to his face. "Um..Ed? Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah, I'm fine," he hears Ed's voice, muffled by the door. "Just give me a min-" but Ed doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. He is cut off by retching+ once more.
"I'm coming in." Al says firmly as he tries the door handle, finding it locked. He raises his hands and starts to clap then together, stopping when his palms are just inches away from one another.
'What if he is fine?' Al thinks, but the thought is quickly erased from his mind as he hears more retching. Without another thought, Al claps his hands together and grips the doorknob. It quickly turns into a small, golden colored statue of a sitting cat licking its paw. The statue falls to the floor and Al opens the door, stopping when he sees his brother.
Edward is practically hugging the toilet bowl, slumped over it on his knees. His red coat, white gloves, and black jacket are both off to the side, leaving him in his black tank top, leather black pants, and black boots. His blond braid is draped over his left shoulder, just short of touching the toilet seat. His whole body is shaking as he takes in shuddering breaths.
"I told you I'm fine!" Ed shouts, looking over at his brother. His voice is raw and raspy while his normally fair skin is even more pale, abnormally so, and sickly looking. His eyes are somewhat bloodshot and he looks exhausted.
"Brother, what's wrong?" Al asks, unsure of what to do. They had left East City only that morning, arriving in a small town to the west just outside of Central that night. "Did you pick something up on the train?"
"Doubt it, the cart we were in was empty."
"That doesn't mean that there aren't still germs you know."
"I can assure you that I'm not sick." Ed says as he wipes his mouth on the back of his flesh hand. He slowly stands up on shaking legs, putting most of his weight on his right leg as he slowly rolls his right shoulder.
"If you aren't sick then why are you throwing up?" Al asks accusingly as Ed flushes the toilet, ridding the disgusting stomach bile and digested food.
"Because it's something else." Ed replies, sounding warn out. He blinks a few times, as if trying to stay awake. He takes a few steps forwards before he has to lean on the counter for support.
"Let's get you to bed, brother." Al says as he walks over to where Ed is standing.
"I don't need help!" Ed snaps as he shrugs Al's hand off his shoulder. The hurt look that briefly crosses Al's face makes a guilty knife stab at his heart. He sighs, shoulders dropping, though he winces at the movement. "I'm sorry, just not in a good mood."
"Okay," Al replies quietly, watching as Ed walks out of the bathroom. He has one hand against the wall at all times, his automail arm hanging limply at his side. Al doesn't take much notice of it.
Soon Edward is flopped out on his bed, breathing heavily. Al only shakes his head as he goes to collect Ed's coat, gloves, and jacket from the bathroom. 'Things never change.'
The sky is bright as he runs towards the familiar figure standing in the middle of a golden field. Her brown hair gently blows in the wind, a warm smile taking place on her lips. She holds out her arms as the child runs to her, laughing as he does so.
Little Ed quickly jumps into his mother's arms, laughing joyfully as he holds out a wooden bird he had created from the floor boards of Hohenheim's office.
"Awe, that's my little boy," she says as she ruffles Ed's hair.
But then the wind picks up, growing stronger and stronger, getting colder and colder. The sky turns black and the golden grass of the field dies, turning an ugly brown. Trisha's skin slowly starts melting from her, leaving behind a skeletal face with red glowing eyes and strands of greasy black hair.
"M-mom!" He cries, eyes widening as he drops the little bird. It sinks into the dry soil of the ground. His brother sprouts from it seconds later, his face is full of rage, his eyes a burning hatred fire.
"Why brother?" He asks, his body twisting in unnatural ways. Ed cries out as he hears the loud snapping of bone. "Why would you curse me with suffering this horrible pain? Why couldn't you save mom? Why couldn't you save me?"
Tears start to stream down Ed's face as he backs away, shaking his head. "P-please! I'm sorry!"
Both the creature and his mangled brother reach out, grabbing both his arms.
"No!" He screams, struggling to get out of their grasp. Their nails, feeling razor sharp, dig into his skin as he tries pulling away. They slowly start dragging him towards them, black blood leaking from their mouths in thick, sticky rivulets. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I don't-I don't want to die!"
"Brother?"
"Let go of me!" Ed shouts as he is continued to be pulled back. "Please!"
"Brother it's me! It's just a dream, wake up!"
"Let go! Let go of me! I- I don't want to die! Please!"
Ed shoots up into a sitting position, eyes wide as he gasps I air. Almost as if he had been drowning.
"Brother?" He hears a voice beside him. Out of reflexes and instincts, he quickly claps his hands together and transmutes the protective plate on his automail into his trademark blade that he has fought with many times before.
"Brother! It's me!" Al shouts as he quickly moves back, out of Ed's range. Ed stares at Al, as if expecting him to pounce. "Ed?"
"Sorry," he mumbles as his eyes slightly widen, realizing that he had almost just gutted his little brother. He returns the blade to it's usual form as a protection plate. "I guess I was dreaming."
"You okay? You look a little flushed." Al comments as he presses his hand against Ed's forehead, ignoring the fact that Edward had lashed out just seconds before.
Ed instantly recoils from the touch, bristling. "Hey! The hell are you doing?"
A moment is all Al needed as he frowns. "Brother, you're burning up. You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," Ed replies quickly as he looks out the window, watching the small drops of rain roll down the glass. And then that's when it hits him out of nowhere, an agony that could rival that of the automail surgery.
He throws himself back on the bed, screaming out as the pain stabs at his stumps, like a butter knife going crazy again pizza as it tries to cut through the thick crust.
"Brother!" Alphonse cries, watching with horror as Ed writhes around on his bed in pain, practically dripping with sweat from the pain, his dream, and fever.
The pain feels like a forest fire as it spreads throughout his body, causing him to writhe around to try and make it stop. It's almost as if he can feel his limbs being torn from his body once more.
He claws at his right shoulder and left leg where the metal connects to his flesh, alternating between the two as he continues writhing around.
"Is something wrong with your automail?" Al asks, desperately wanting to do something to help his brother.
"I-I don't know," Ed breathes out, gasping as another wave of pain shoots through his stumps. "F-feels like my limbs are being torn off again."
"What? How could that be possible?" Al asks, fear stabbing at his stomach like a cold dagger. "I-I'll call Winry."
"No!" Ed instantly shouts as he sits up, panting. "Don't call her. I do-don't need help."
"I don't care brother, you're in pain an neither of us know what's going on. I'm calling Winry."
Ed doesn't have the strength to argue. He slowly lays back down and curls into a trembling ball, trying not to make any noises. Al quickly picks up the phone on the nightstand in between the two beds, making sure that it isn't in Ed's reach so he can't hang up the phone.
"This is the Rockbell Automail service, Winry speaking. Who is this?" Winry's chirpy yet tired voice says on the other end of the line. 'She was probably up working late again.' Al thinks.
"Winry? It's Al," he answers, voice sounding meek and scared. "Something is wrong will brother and I don't know what to do."
Ed glares up through his bangs, as if he had been betrayed by his younger brother. "Told you, don't need help."
"What's wrong with him? He isn't in the hospital or anything, is he? Did he break his arm already?" Winry asks, talking a mile a minute as she tries to figure out what Edward had done this time. It wasn't too long ago after he had been sent to the hospital because some guard dog attacked him when they were lured into a trap in a house.
"No, nothing like that," Al replies, tapping his foot gently against the floor. "He says that his stumps hurt, almost like he can feel his limbs being pulled off again."
"What?" Winry asks, horrified. "I-I've never heard of that happening before. You sure it isn't the automail?"
Al looks over at Ed who is now laying sprawled out on his back, panting through parted lips as he tries to get the pressure off his shoulder and leg. He covers the mouth piece of the phone and asks, "brother? You sure it isn't the automail?"
"Yes." He replies quietly, voice sounding almost pleading.
"He says that it isn't the automail." Al replies, taking his hand away from the phone's mouth piece.
"I don't know what to tell you. I've never heard of-granny?" Winry cuts herself off and Al guesses she is talking to Pinako. "Uh, it's Al. He says that Ed's stumps are hurting, almost-phantom limb pain? What's-okay. Al? I'm giving the phone over to granny."
Al can't help but feel impatient as he hears Winry hand the phone over to Pinako. He watches as Ed rolls over onto his left side, wincing at the pressure on his left stump on his leg.
"Alphonse?" Pinako asks, pulling Al back to the conversation. "Tell me exactly what's going on with Ed."
"Um, he says that it feels like his limbs are being pulled from his body again. He also has a fever and-"
"Here is what you'll need to do. Get a bowl of cold water, a bowl of warm water, and a few rags. Talk to me when you have that done."
"Okay," Al replies as he carefully sets the phone down on the nightstand. He quickly rushes to the bathroom, finding a stack of bowls under the counter in the cupboard. Don't as how or why, he doesn't know.
Al grabs the biggest two bowls there and quickly fills them like Pinako had said. He grabs a few rags and rushes out to the phone, putting the bowls on the floor.
"Now what?"
"Have Ed lay on his back. Put a rag soaked I warm water around each stump and place a cold rag on his forehead, to keep his fever down." Pinako says instructs. "Phantom limb pain is common among people who have lost their limbs. It usually happens when it is about to rain or when it is raining, and the pain can range from mild to severe. It is a shame that the first time Ed experienced it is severe."
"Okay, thank you! I'll call after everything is situated."
The two say their brisk goodbyes and Al hangs up. He quickly drops to his knees beside the bowls of water, placing a gentle hand on Ed's shoulder.
"Al!" He hisses, quickly pulling away, gritting his teeth in pain as he does so. "I don't need help!"
"Yes you do! Granny Pinako said that you are suffering from phantom limb pain. You can't deal with it on your own this time."
Ed doesn't say anything. He only looks over his shoulder at Alphonse, glaring and acting like he had been betrayed.
"Now, lay on your back. Granny Pinako said that this would be the most comfortable." Al instructs, watching as his brother reluctantly rolls onto his back, clutching his leg as he does so.
"I'm going to put a warm rag on your stumps and a cold rag on your forehead." Al warns as he rings out the first warm rag. He places it over Ed's left stump on his leg, just above the metal so it can touch his skin. He repeats the same process with Ed's right shoulder. He then rings out the cold cloth and places it over Ed's forehead.
"Al! That's cold!" Ed shouts as he tries to shrink away, failing when Al grabs his left shoulder and gently pushes him down against the bed so he can't move without straining his automail limbs.
"I don't care. You will lay here and keep these on to help." Al says sternly as he checks to make sure the warm rags are still in place.
The night is long and pain filled. Ed writhes around a few more times when the pain spikes, while Al tries to comfort him, trying to keep him sitting still. And, as Dawn breaks, both brothers are exhausted. The pain in his stumps has died down to a dull ache once more and his fever has broke. Al is leaning against the bed, barely able to keep his eyes open. He hasn't pulled an all nighter in a while, not even when he had tried to stay up to watch over Edward at the hospital after the dog had attacked.
"Thanks," Ed says as he takes off the rags, dropping them down into the water with an audible plop. Al looks up at him, frowning as Ed sits up. "I feel better now."
"That's good," Al says as he stands up, stretching his poor muscles. Sitting on the floor all night is not something he would recommend, even to his worst of enemies. "I should call Winry and Granny to tell them you're okay. You sure that you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. And don't worry about it, I'll call." Ed says as he stands up, limping over to the phone. "You get some sleep, you look like crap."
"You're one to talk," Al jokes. "You sure?"
"Yeah."
Ed dials the number as Al crosses the room to his own bed. He practically collapses, and by the time Pinako answers on the other line, Al is fast asleep.
That's it folks! I'll be out with story #6 within the hour or so. Now, for the response to the reviews!
Guest- thank you for the compliment! I'm glad that you like it so far, and I like your review suggestion. I have it all written out, now I just have to edit and then post it!
Pasty Koala- I'm glad that you liked it. Thanks for the suggestion! I enjoyed writing it out!
Now, don't forget to leave me suggestions for future stories you want to see me write! Thanks for reading, and have a good day/night!