Rewrite, Rewritten
~ Lady Eldaelen ~
A small earthquake heralded the opening of the door, or at least that's what it sounded like from outside the stately Hawkeye manor. Second Lieutenant Alphonse Elric craned his neck and head up to meet the eyes of the one who answered. And he knew.
"Where are they?" was all it took for them both to clamor through the house, up the stairs, and to the mess in the library.
"About time," his brother greeted, not bothering to look up, eyes pressed tightly closed and free hand massaging his temples.
"You look absolutely green, brother."
"Yeah, well, I'm trying not to pass out right now, jerk." He risked a glance at the boy, gaze well away from the tube running between their arms. "Color's better, that's good."
"We need to stop the oozing before you're drained dry," Al opined, checking on the boy's saturated bandages. "Want me to take over?"
"Please."
. O .
"Don't get too comfortable," Ed warned as Al started to maneuver into a more comfortable position after they'd switched places. "We should move him before I do any more."
Al gave him a questioning look and Ed nodded at the circle. "Don't want to inadvertently set something off in here."
He turned to the suit of armor, who had taken up a spot on the floor nearby, arms wrapped around knees in as tight a ball as one could manage with that much bulk.
"Can you show us the lab?" Ed asked softly. "Riza?"
The armor glanced up.
"Can you show us where your father's lab is?"
"Yes, of course. It's in the basement." And she moved at once, not even stopping to make sure they were following.
Ed scooped up the boy, ignoring the unbalanced lightness in the slight frame he carried. Al stayed close, keeping an eye on both their arms as he continued transfusing blood. The lab proved to be exactly what Ed was hoping for. Well-lit, several large workbenches, plenty of stock material, and for an alchemist specialized in combustibles, a higher than average level of cleanliness. A surprise bonus: a telephone on the wall, just inside the door and with a long cord.
Ed set the boy on the closest bench and let Al get them settled while he pawed through the only cluttered surface in the room, a desk, for a scrap of paper and pencil. He scribbled something down and handed it to Riza.
"Call this number, ask for Pinako. Tell her Al says it's an emergency."
Riza immediately reached for the phone to follow his directions.
"Brother…"
"She takes you far more seriously -and this is a pretty damn serious situation-"
"…what in the world are you thinking?"
"Uh, sir?" Riza pushed the receiver into Ed's hand.
"Granny? It's Ed. Yes, I know. Look, I'm kind of in the middle of an emergency here. Young kid, boy, about my age when-"
"He's eleven," Riza piped up. "In two months."
"Yeah, eleven. I don't know, taller? No, even worse. Left leg above the knee, right arm at the shoulder. Hey, I had nothing to do with- He'd be dead if I hadn't- No, look, just, when you preserve for automail, what's the best methods to tie off veins and arteries and stuff? Uh-huh. And muscles? Anything I need to keep in mind there? No, no trauma, it was alchemic. Yes, exactly the same."
Ed hazarded a glance at Al. "We both did, I don't know, a couple units each? Hold on."
Ed passed the phone to Al and began a circuit around the lab, gathering supplies.
"Tell her that I'll call in the morning if he makes it through the night. She can take the first train out and be here before lunch."
Al listened to the woman on the other end of the line and nodded. "She says she's retired, you inconsiderate idiot."
"Yeah, well, tell her she's two days closer than her granddaughter and this kid needs more experienced care than we can give."
"She says to call the local MD and let her get back to bed."
Ed clapped his hands against the pile of supplies he'd laid on the boy's stump of a leg and waited for the transmutation glare to fade.
"Local doctors in towns this small are hacks and there's no automail mechanics for two counties all around. I'll ring her in the morning," he repeated again, prepping even more supplies for the larger wound at the boy's shoulder. "Slam the phone down when you hang up on the old hag."
Al passed the phone back to the Riza. "You don't really have to slam-"
But she smashed the receiver so hard on the cradle that the entire phone cracked in two.
. O .
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