Hero
Thirteen days he'd walked, dealing with that bastard showing up all perfect and saying snide, hurtful things then disappearing again. Edward was exhausted, both of walking on strained gritty automail and listening to Mustang's running commentary.
He was overjoyed when he stumbled into a town, sometime before dawn and found that it had a well at the center of it. He mustered enough strength to pull a bucket of water up and drink greedily before allowing his exhaustion to take over and falling asleep against the stone wall of the well.
When he awoke the first thing he noticed was the pain in his head felt much better, and the second thing he noticed was how clean the sheets were.
Ed jolted upright wincing at the sunlight coming in through slatted blinds, and looked around. He was in a clean comfortable room, in clean clothes.
"Dad! He's awake!" a little voice yelled from the doorway, Ed managed to catch the glimpse of little shoes running down the hallway. He felt his head and found it wrapped nicely with a soft cotton gauze.
A man who looked quite a bit like Sig Curtis entered the room, holding a tray with apple slices and a fresh muffin.
"You gave us quite the scare, sonny. We all though you was dead when we found you. Lucky we got a pretty decent doctor round these parts. Your head was split open pretty good." He laid the tray on the bed by Ed.
"Where am I? I remember finding a well, but not much after that." Ed with his hand still on his head grabbed the muffin and bit into it hungrily.
"Well the town you're in is called Veridis, but more specifically you're in my house. I'm Frank Hollen, by the way. I found you yesterday morning. Called the Doc for some medical help. You have quite the nasty infection. Doc Bell cleaned it up and stitched it closed. Says you're gonna have a nasty scar. He also left you a bottle of antibiotics and some poppy seed powder capsules in case you need 'em." Frank had a nice, open smile.
"Thanks, I'm… Al" Ed said through a mouthful of muffin. "Is Veridis in Amestris?"
"Course we are, you must 'ave been in the desert awhile. Most people go in, and don't come back sane, if they even come out at all. You were talking all crazy like to someone when we got you in here." Ed turned wide eyes on him. Oh my god Mustang was in my head this whole time.
"You must be made of sterner stuff. Anyway, you're welcome to stay here until you're feeling better, Al. When we were changing you into cleaner clothes we noticed you had an automail leg, looks all caked up with sand. We don't got a mechanic 'round here that can deal with that." This made Ed pause, discreetly searching Mr. Hollen's face for judgment. He found none.
"Yeah, it's one of the major bummers of automail. If you've got old motor oil laying around I can flush it out myself." Edward finished up the muffin. "Course I hope you understand I can't give you any money right now."
"No sonny, I'm not doing this for money. Just trying to do a good turn for someone in need. I've got some motor oil out back in my shed. I'll have my son fetch it for you when you're ready." Frank chewed his lip for moment. "How did you get your head split open anyway? How long were you out there trying to survive?"
"My horse took a fall down a sand dune." Ed said carefully. "If I've been out for a whole day, I'd have been out here for about two weeks now I guess." He rubbed his chin, finding a soft down of facial hair covering it. Frank's eyes narrowed a bit but he nodded anyway.
"You must be the world's luckiest man."
"Must be, I don't suppose I could trouble you to get that motor oil? Sand is incredibly uncomfortable in automail ports. I'm worried about it messing something up if I leave it for too long. I'll also need a grease pan so I don't get it everywhere." Frank nodded and stood.
"I'll be back in a minute then."
Frank had supplied Ed with the motor oil and a grease pan, and they'd gone outside. Frank was tinkering around with an old tractor listening to the news on the radio and Ed had settled close by on a chair, wire brush and oil in hand. He began by loosening the grime around the bolts and joints with a wire brush, getting his toes and knee, he started loosening the cover plates to get the internal mechanisms when Frank's son, William, a boy around the age of ten, brought out a glass of cool water and his bottle of pain relievers, and started hovering over his shoulder.
"Where'd you come from?" He asked.
"Creta." Ed scrubbed more.
"Where you going?" Still staring.
"I don't know yet." Ed pried loose a small rock.
"How'd you lose your leg?" Ed sighed and looked up at the kid.
"I didn't eat my vegetables or drink milk, so my leg fell off." William looked at him in horror.
"You're leg doesn't just fall off 'cause you didn't eat your vegetables!" Ed looked at him pityingly.
"That's what I thought too. But now look, no leg!" He popped his automail ports and his leg fell off. William turned white as a sheet and ran to his father pointing and gesticulating, as Ed and Frank chuckled delightedly. He ran the motor oil over all the joints, pistons and ball bearings. Watching the sand come out as he poured the oil through it. He left his leg thigh side down in the pan to drip all the sludge out of it. He sat back in the chair taking a deep breath and enjoying the shade. He shook a pill out and took it with some of the water, and listened to the chatter of the radio.
"Now listeners, we have a very important message directly from Fuhrer Mustang's office," Ed's head snapped around. "We are taking a minute of silence to commemorate Edward Elric, honorably discharged Fullmetal Alchemist, the People's Alchemist and Amestrian Hero, who we were told earlier today has died in the line of duty. We ask that everyone in the country take a moment to bow their heads in silence as we mourn the passing of a great Legend." Ed watched as Frank stopped to bow his head, and William's face screwed up to cry, as he ran to the house, door slamming behind him.
After an uncomfortably long silent minute Frank came over and sat next to him.
"Can't believe Edward Elric is dead. I read all the stories about him to William, back in the day. He loved listening to all the news about the Fullmetal Alchemist. We really lost something important in our country today." Ed's stomach twisted up in knots.
"Sorry, I don't know who he is, I'm afraid I've been out of the country for awhile." He managed to choke out.
"That's quite a shame. Maybe I'll pull out some of those old news articles if you're interested. He was kind of a national treasure here in Amestris. Though he's been pretty quiet lately. I thought he had quit the military. Maybe he was just under cover." Frank looked deflated at the news.
"Yeah. That's pretty sad. Sorry, I think the pain killers just hit, I'm gonna go ahead and reattach the automail and then if you don't mind I think I'll go take a nap." Ed was biting out the words, trying to sound natural. Frank just nodded and headed back to his tractor.
Edward maneuvered the automail leg so the two ports lined up, then flipped the levers to reengage the ports and bit back a screech as the nerves lit on fire. He sat panting for a moment, taking slow sips of water until his heart calmed, then limped his way back into the house.
He was in his room, sitting on the bed, thoughts racing through an opium infused mind when William knocked on the door.
"Come in!" He managed to slur out.
"Hi Al… Can I sit with you?" Williams eyes were still red.
"Sure kid, come sit." Ed patted the bed next to him and William sat down. "Your dad told me you really liked that Fullmetal Alchemist guy."
"Yeah. He was awesome." Williams face lit up, and the immediately darkened again. "He did so many cool things. I want to be just like him someday."
"Listen kid, you're not gonna be just like him. You're gonna be better than he ever was. I promise." Ed gave him a smile, which William returned before he excused himself to go help his father again.
Edward reclined onto the bed. This was a hit. Someone tried to kill me. But they didn't. Why didn't they finish the job? Why leave me supplies, close enough to the border to make it out? They could have finished the job, but didn't.
Unless… I wasn't the target.
I'm the trap.
