Chapter 21: Spiraling

Cold tendrils wrapped around his throat, snaking their way toward his heart and soul. It was as if Truth itself was once again standing before him, white hands posed to take whatever it could touch.

Raindrops trickled outside, a constant the last few days as all of Central bore through the wet season, but Ed could have sworn the water was pooling up around him.

"It's…in a week?"

A voice that wasn't his spoke out into the emptiness before him, bringing weight to the already crushing unknown.

"I'm sorry."

Ed wasn't sure who was apologizing or why, everything seemed so far away and yet close enough to strangle him. He glanced down at his hands before his brain caught up to him and he blinked the phantom one away, a lone palm staring up at him.

A jumble of noise was filling the hollow room but as hard as he tried, he couldn't seem decipher what it was saying. His hand moved to his chest slowly; he was still breathing, wasn't hyperventilating.

So why did everything feel so blurry?

It felt as if there was a wall of water between him and the world, ever-shifting and distorting the image behind. He could see through the water enough to know there was something on the other side, but couldn't ascertain what it was.

"-me Ed?"

Was someone talking to him?

He moved his head, somehow, and the view before him shifted. If he wasn't so confused, it would have been nice to stay wherever his brain seemed to have taken him. Everything felt quieter, in a way.

The figure in front of him spoke again…a question? Ed didn't know what they were asking but felt himself nod nonetheless.

The water rippled harshly as gentle, calloused hands gripped his own. He felt his eyes shift to look at them where they had broken through the surface.

He knew these hands.

Their grip was both uncomfortable and soothing, in a perplexing and contradicting way. They brought with them the tiled floor below them, the blankets rubbing against his thighs, the soft ticking of a clock from somewhere in the room.

"-hear me?"

They were talking to him again, and Ed tore his focus from the hands pulling him closer to the wave shielding him. The water still shimmered and rippled out of focus, but it felt easier to sift through.

"Can you hear me?"

His ears broke through the surface, and the ringing he hadn't noticed before faded away. His head moved without thought, and he heard the person next to him sigh with what seemed to be relief.

"Tell me, what can you see?"

What can he see?

It was an odd question, and he had to have made a face because the person next to him chuckled lightly.

"Yes I know, just tell me."

Ed looked around the room, bits and pieces starting to come closer into focus, moving toward the shoal between the water and him.

There was a crumpled towel on the table next to him, and a plastic tray with what looked like soup of some sort. There was a mop leaning against the wall, small trails of water slowly easing along the tile below.

His head turned, and he saw the bubbles at the top of the fluid bag hanging next to him, his eyes tracing the line until it ended in his arm.

"Good, now what can you feel?"

Ed hadn't realized he'd been saying these things aloud, but he moved on anyway. It was another odd request, but it was easier to go along with it than fight it.

His hand was being held by someone else, war-scarred palms caging his. Thick and itchy bandages coated his chest, and his back stung every time he breathed and they shifted against it.

"We'll look into that later," the man next to him said. It sounded more like a reminder for him, and less so for Ed. "What do you hear?"

"You," Ed said. He could hear his own voice, felt more comfortable with it.

"Well, obviously."

Ed rolled his eyes; he wasn't sure why but it felt like the right thing to do.

"The clock. People outside the door."

"The clock is mighty annoying I do agree," Roy muttered with mild contempt.

Roy.

Roy Mustang.

Ed wasn't sure how he could have forgotten who he was, but he knew now that was who was with him. Sitting next to him, holding his hand.

"Rain?" Ed questioned, his head turning to the window to confirm.

"Yeah it's still drizzling," Roy answered. "At least we're inside."

"Because you're useless in the rain."

Roy's eyes widened with surprise, and he let out a bellowing laugh.

"I certainly am."

Ed watched the raindrops race down the glass window pane, mindlessly counting each one that hit the wood frame below.

"You with me?"

Ed scoffed, turning to meet Mustang's eyes.

"Where else would I be?"

"Just checking," Mustang shrugged. "You left for a little bit there when I told you about the arraignment."

The arraignment.

"Oh," Ed muttered. He didn't remember going anywhere, just Mustang explaining the arraignment to him and then talking to him about what he could hear.

"When is the arraignment?"

Roy blanched, his lips coming together in a tight frown. He turned, peeling his eyes from the naivety radiating off Ed's golden ones.

He had just told him, and while he wasn't surprised Ed didn't remember the date, he wished he didn't have to repeat it. Telling him the first time was hard enough.

Was this karma taunting him?

"It's in a week," Roy repeated.

"Oh."

Ed nodded slowly, his hand quivering slightly under Mustang's grip. Roy removed his hands slowly so that he could tap them on his knees anxiously.

"I'm sorry Edward."

Ed gave a half-hearted shrug, moving to lay back down on the bed. His hair caught in the empty shoulder port and he huffed in irritation.

"Hey I got it-" Mustang stood quickly, hands jumping to pull the hair out gently before Ed jerked his head haphazardly.

Ed winced as Mustang moved the hair, the port more sensitive than normal.

"Sorry, I know it's probably uncomfortable," he muttered as he worked. "If you'd like, I can ask Hawkeye to braid this later."

"Sure."

"I would, but I've had too much coffee today to keep a steady hand," Mustang chuckled. It was a lie, his hands shook from nerves more than excess caffeine, and it was a poor attempt to lighten the cloaked mood. Ed's hair fell from his fingers once he was done to pool with the rest against the pillow.

"Do I have to go to this arraignment?"

This kid was going to be the death of him.

"I don't know. It is… encouraged per the court, but you may not have to."

Ed huffed with disbelief, his eyes never straying from their fixed position on the pale ceiling.

Roy could tell Ed was drifting back to sleep, and the last thing he wanted was for him to fight exhaustion just to talk about the damned court date.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," Mustang said.

"...mkay."

It wasn't a full agreement, but Roy was content when Ed's eyes slipped closed and his breathing slowed to a deeper cadence. With a shaky sigh he sat back down, hands running through his hair nervously as he hung his head.

It had gone better than he'd anticipated in a way, but had also cascaded off a cliff he somehow hadn't seen coming.

But Ed knew, and that part of his job was done.

Roy closed his eyes tightly to keep the wetness from spilling out. He wasn't sure what to do, what was going to happen. The torment of the unknown was eating him alive, and Roy knew that he'd have to start back up with his own therapist once all this was said and done.

No matter how hard he tried to push it away, the blank look Ed had after Roy had dropped the arraignment date on him haunted him, brought him back to times he'd rather forget.

He'd been able hold steady, be the solid rock amidst the tempest surrounding Edward, but inside he was thrashing against the waves alongside him.

Roy bit his tongue until he tasted metal, his heart breaking into more pieces than he thought was possible given all it had been through.

War or no war, Ed was just like him, he thought.

And the thought broke him.

The next couple of days were challenging. Hawkeye had returned to work the day after they got the call about the arraignment, unable to stay away any longer. Roy had spent the next day at the hospital trying to keep the peace between the brothers, which was easier said than done.

Hawkeye had been able to console Alphonse well and explain things to him, but there was still tension between him and Ed. Things left undisclosed, untouched.

Ed was still refusing to talk to Dr. Cain about anything, or about what had happened, and it took everything for Mustang to not snap at him or order him to talk to her. The last thing Roy wanted to do was yell at the kid when they were all just exhausted and hurting.

He knew despite his best-efforts Ed had to be picking up on his agitation, his shifty eyes and the way he jumped when Mustang started to get frustrated were all too telling.

Roy had gone back into the office the following day, unable to stay cooped up in the hospital room any longer and desperately needing a change of uniform. He knew Ed was growing uncomfortable with the constant supervision, and at least Alphonse was still there to stay with him. Between him and the hospital staff, Ed was in good hands.

At least, that's what he'd hoped.

"He's simply not making progress and I'm worried about keeping him here long-term."

Mustang had driven to the hospital that night after work as he had been for the last few days. His neck was certainly starting to get a crick in it from sleeping in the hospital chairs and more than once he'd contemplated dragging a field-cot with him.

Dr. Guía was stepping out just as he arrived, and the look he'd had on his face made Roy nervous instantaneously.

"What do you mean?"

"He's healing, and his body is stabilizing and recovering. His stitches are holding up nicely and his breathing has improved, but I'm worried about things…up here," Dr. G said tapping his head lightly.

"He refuses to talk with Dr. Cain, or any other psychiatrist we've tried introducing him to. He has been declining meals and is only eating the occasional snack his brother brings to him."

Mustang swallowed thickly, anxiety like barbed wire constricting against his stomach.

"He's just not doing well in the hospital setting, and I'm worried that he will continue to decline mentally the longer he stays here should he continue to refuse our services. There's little we can do short of sending him to an institution better suited to handle situations such as his."

"Oh…no…that's not happening," Mustang chuckled in a strained manner. "It's not a bad idea, but I know him. If he's not doing well here, he sure as hell won't do well there."

Dr. Guía nodded, seeming to have expected that kind of response.

"His automail still needs work and time, but the area around it is healing well. Ed still has a long way to go overall, however. Ideally, we'd continue to hospitalize him for another week or two," the doctor explained, giving Roy time to process everything he was discussing.

"I'm sensing a "but" here Doctor," Roy said.

Dr. G chuckled, fidgeting with his glasses.

"I'm leaning toward discharging him within the week. Few days even, if he starts eating a little more."

Roy's eyes widened, and he must have looked shocked because the doctor put a hand up in mock surrender and continued.

"I know it's sudden, and there's still nursing work that needs to be done with his wounds. He'd need to have his bandages changed regularly, be on continued medications, and would need to be monitored for any worsening airway obstruction or internal hemorrhaging. However, I really do think getting him into a different setting will do him wonders."

Roy's mouth popped opened and closed as he struggled to come to terms with what the kind doctor was proposing.

It wasn't a bad idea, hellit was probably the best idea for Edward if Roy was being honest with himself.

He knew Ed hated hospitals, and with everything that had happened he had to feel exposed and on display in a setting like this. Getting him somewhere quieter - away from strangers and unknowns – could be instrumental toward helping him move forward.

But where would he go?

Roy pondered giving him back his old room in the dorms, but they weren't known for being luxurious accommodations. Despite them being owned by the military, it would be harder for Roy to keep an eye on him and make sure he was healing well.

Mustang knew Alphonse would do whatever necessary to help Edward out, but if Ed refused to let him do anything then they'd be in a bind.

He could get an apartment set up for him closer to where he lived, but he was still uncomfortable with that level of space and privacy given the situation at hand. Roy remained unconvinced that Edward wouldn't try something drastic, and he'd be powerless to prevent it.

He knew Riza would happily step in, but the last thing he wanted was to force her through reliving her own past as she helped Ed heal from his.

"I'll give you some time to think about it," Dr. Guía interrupted his thoughts. "There's no rush to decide; I'd still like to keep him here a few more days regardless. But think on it? You know him best after all."

Roy thanked him for his time, watching him walk down the hallway to oversee another patient.

He didn't need time to think on it, if he was being honest with himself. It didn't matter how many times his brain ran through the situation; he always came to the same conclusion.

He knew it was the best option, provided the most security and chance for success. He'd just have to get it cleared with the higher ups, which likely wouldn't be a problem.

But Edward…Edward would not agree to it. Clearing it by him would be the biggest hurdle. Roy knew he could pull both rank and legal guardianship on him, but he didn't want to make decisions for someone whose autonomy had been abusively stripped from him.

Riza was talking about a case that had come through the office when Roy walked in. Ed was sitting up, sipping on soup and listening intently.

She had gotten off before Roy had, wanting to stop by to check on Ed and Al and make sure all was well.

Ed hadn't touched the dinner brought to him when she initially came in, and she didn't want to fight him to do anything he was vehemently against. Instead, she sat and asked about their day, and was there to support Ed while Dr. Guía did his exam.

In an effort to keep Ed distracted, she shared updates about what was happening at work, different criminals they were working to apprehend or leads they were following. Ed had shown interest, and was even willing to grab the soup after the doctor left.

It wasn't much, Riza knew, but it was a start. She didn't draw attention to it despite wanting to cheer and praise him for touching a meal offered to him. She knew the attention would only dissuade Ed from continuing, so instead she continued her mindless chattering about the days' events.

She wasn't typically keen on 'chatting', or making small talk. Riza always found that the meaningful conversations presented themselves with time, and no amount of waffling until then got you anywhere.

However, if it was for Edward's sake, she'd happily ramble for hours about nothing and everything.

"Lieutenant, can I speak with you outside?"

Roy wished there was an easier way to say it, and hated the way Ed's jaw clenched when the words left his mouth.

Riza gave him a perplexed look but followed him nonetheless, letting Ed know they'd be back in shortly.

Ed hadn't responded, simply putting his soup aside once again and picking up one of the research books she had brought for him to read while he was alone (with Al) throughout the day.

Roy could tell he was on edge and bothered by them stepping outside, likely assuming that they would be discussing him. He desperately wished he could have assured him that wasn't the case, but it would have been a bold-faced lie.

Unfortunately.

"What's this about?"

Riza's arms were crossed and she was glaring at Roy with little real anger.

"He was finally settled and eating, so this had better be important Mustang," she whispered harshly.

She would be an amazing mother, Roy noted. Ed and Al weren't her kids and yet any onlooker would surely argue otherwise.

"I spoke with Dr. Guía, he's wanting to discharge Edward from the hospital within the week. If Ed is willing to start eating, he even said it was possible in a few days."

Hawkeye's glare faded and she gave him a quizzical stare.

"Is it not too soon?" She asked, "I know he's improving but he still has a long way to go. Dr. Guía said his concussion still needs to be treated with medications, and that he still has a lot of internal and external bruising to watch."

Roy nodded in agreement.

"It's very sudden, I agree," Roy started.

"However, he's worried about Ed's…mental stability moving forward with continued hospitalization. He seemed convinced that his physical health is stable enough to transfer to hospice care…in a sense…so that his mental health can take steps towards improvement."

"Ah."

They stood for a moment, Roy giving Riza the needed time to process the proposal and what it would entail.

"Where would he stay during this recovery period?"

Roy thought he had a decent poker face, decent enough to win him the occasional hand when he played with his sisters or with Hughes.

It was decent enough to keep him from getting fired, or discovered during certain missions and meetings. He frequently found himself privy to information he should not have knowledge about, and keeping it secret was crucial to him keeping a job, and even his life in some cases.

Be it the exhaustion or the familiarity he had with Riza, but his signature stoic façade had all but vanished…apparently.

"You're not seriously considering him staying with you."

It wasn't a question, more an accusation, and it made Roy wince ever-so-slightly.

"Tell me there's a better option," Roy pleaded with her. "I'm at a loss."

Hawkeye turned her back to him, starting her pacing up and down a small stretch of hallway as she thought about it.

"What about the dorms? He'd be under military supervision."

Roy huffed with indignation.

"Have you been to the dorms recently? They're hardly up-to-par for general living, much less what Ed would be needing. Besides, it's not like the military actually cares enough to monitor the occupants, kids or not," Roy admitted.

"Do you remember how many times we've gone to lecture Ed about skipping work only to find him unconscious, or febrile, or fighting off an automail infection because no one checks in on them?"

Riza sighed at that, her hand coming up to massage her temples with weariness.

"These Elrics will be the death of us," she muttered.

Roy tried not to blush at the unintentional implication of her choice in wording.

"What if he stayed with Hughes? He's used to having kids around and I know he'd jump on the chance to help them out."

Roy shrugged.

"It's certainly an option. Hughes has been busy helping Major General Armstrong up North, but I know if I reached out to him, he'd be on the first train down here. I don't know…I just get the feeling Ed wouldn't be comfortable being around their family after everything that happened. Hughes can be a bit…"

"Overbearing," Hawkeye finished for him. Roy nodded in response.

Roy watched as Riza sighed and resumed her pacing, head in her hands.

He remained silent while he waited, not wanting to interrupt, when she finally came to a halt.

Her dark eyes bore into his, and he knew she had come to the same conclusion he had.

"There's no other way, is there?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"I'm afraid I can't think of many other options, sir," she responded. "At least, not options that are justifiable for his situation."

Roy shoved his hands in the pockets of his uniform and sighed.

"How horrible of a person would I be if I didn't give him another option? If I just told him that after he's discharged, he's coming to stay with me."

Riza shrugged, an uncharacteristically casual response for her.

"I don't think there's any other choice," she said honestly. "If you gave him the option he would say no, but we all know there's not really another feasible path. I hate having to force him into something but unfortunately, I think this situation demands it."

Mustang was grateful his hands were in his pockets with the way they balled into fists with nerves. He'd always considered himself a confident and 'occasionally' cocky man, but after everything that had happened handling Ed made him incredibly nervous.

He knew some part of it was the guilt – a large part of it – but he didn't want to mess things up any further than he already had.

"I guess I have some work to get done then," Mustang admitted. "I never thought I'd see the day where I'd be taking the Elrics in, and one of them isn't trying to kill me because of it."

"He very well still may try to kill you for this," Riza smirked. "I don't think that's entirely off the table."

Roy chuckled, shaking his head in exasperation.

"If I prepare things on my end, will you put together the needed paperwork for me to sift through tomorrow?"

"You? Asking for paperwork? Are we sure it isn't you who has the concussion?" Riza chuckled, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Roy rolled his eyes, gesturing back to the door.

"If this were any other situation regarding paperwork, I'd be asking you to give me one."

Riza laughed, and the two of them made their way back into Ed's room.

Ed bristled as they walked in, hand gripping the book he still held on his lap tightly.

He'd tried to ignore the fact that they were out there, likely talking about him, but it had prodded his thoughts incessantly.

He knew the nurses and doctors were getting tired of him, he knew Hawkeye and Mustang were probably tired of having to come check in on him and spend the night in the hospital.

Ed didn't understand why Mustang insisted on stopping by every night, leaving only in the morning for work.

He feels sorry for you.

Ed had winced at the thought.

He pities you.

He feels obligated to take care of you, like any owner would for their dog.

Ed knew he was a burden on them, that they were exhausted. He knew Mustang was frustrated that he didn't want to talk to the doctor lady that kept coming in to pry information out of him.

He knew Hawkeye was disappointed every time she came in and he hadn't touched the food offered to him. Knew it made her upset.

Ed couldn't tell her that he was scared, scared to eat it and get sick again. Those few days had come with some of the worst pain he'd ever managed, and on top of that it had led to his shitty alchemic job nearly killing an innocent man.

Ed felt his stomach twist every time food was brought to him. He knew he needed to eat something to maintain his automail, but how was he supposed to know if this food would make him sick or not?

Mustang had assured him Hohenheim was being held until the arraignment, but some part of him still questioned whether or not he could do something to the food here.

Or would someone else do it?

Mustang was clearly tired of dealing with him, and the doctor and psychiatrist had to be getting annoyed that he wasn't "improving" for them. Who's to say that one of them wouldn't take revenge on him?

It's what he deserved, after all.

It was a steep jump, and while Ed was known for being rash it was extreme even for him. At least, it would have been back then.

Ed knew Alphonse resented him, was upset that Ed continued to push him away and that he had to "babysit" his older brother. No matter what Mustang said, Ed knew Alphonse hated him. There's no way he couldn't.

Alphonse had been spending time with him while he was in the hospital, leaving only to get snacks for Ed when he realized Ed wasn't going to eat the meal provided. Ed knew he was probably bored, and felt stuck taking care of someone who didn't deserve to be cared for.

They talked a little on and off, but there was still the air of tension keeping things curt between the two of them. Ed knew Al was trying, wanting to be there for him but also craving answers and genuine conversation.

Ed hoped Al knew how sorry he was.

For everything.

Ed felt guilty for not acknowledging Mustang and Hawkeye when they walked back into the room, pretending instead to be invested in the book he was reading. He hoped neither of them asked him questions about it, because he hadn't really been able to focus on any of it.

"Do you want me to warm this up for you?" Riza asked, motioning to the bowl of soup discarded on the bedside table.

"Sure," Ed mumbled, barbs of guilt piercing his abdomen as she eagerly left the room with it. He had just wanted them to leave him alone, but knew that she was hopeful that he would actually eat it now.

No choice on that anymore.

Roy asked him about his day, about what Riza had been talking to them about before he interrupted. Ed mentioned the case she'd brought up and Roy picked up where she left off, rambling about the details and evidence they'd been gathering.

Ed was grateful that he was willing to do most of the talking, as Ed didn't have the energy or desire to maintain a conversation. It felt nice too, in a way, to be included on the information despite not being at work.

How was he going to pay for his hospital stay if he hadn't been working?

The thought barraged through his skull and Ed blanched with fear.

"You aren't worth the military's resources."

Edward balled his hand into a fist under the book to quell his impending panic. Roy was still rambling on about work and Ed didn't want to lose his shit in front of him, again. He could feel small beads of blood form around his fingernails, but dismissed the pain.

If anything, it helped ground him and keep him from spiraling.

Riza returned with the newly warmed soup and Ed forced a small smile, taking the tray with the bowl onto his lap.

"I can't promise it will be…edible."

"You're a smart little brat, I think you can figure it out."

Ed blinked away tears as he made himself eat a few bites. His stomach flipped in protest, saliva pooling in his mouth as he fought off the impending nausea.

He knew the three of them were relieved to see him eating, and he knew his automail needed the energy. He wanted to eat, wanted to enjoy food, but he was terrified. Terrified of something going wrong.

Terrified of wasting resources other people needed.

Terrified he didn't deserve to be eating something like this.

Especially if he couldn't afford it.

Ed swallowed the ever-building saliva and pushed the bowl away slowly. Al stepped up to grab it and take it downstairs to the mess hall, Riza following him out. Ed was grateful Alphonse had her in his life; she was the mother he'd never gotten the chance to have.

Because you killed her, and took her away from him.

"What's going on up there?" Mustang asked, pulling Ed's attention from himself.

"Nothing," Ed droned, fatigue slipping into his voice. The constant stream of thoughts tearing at his brain was exhausting to manage in secret, especially with everything else.

"How's the bandage feeling on your back?"

Mustang had asked the doctor a few days ago to add extra padding for comfort, something Ed was immensely grateful for. He knew Mustang didn't know why he needed it, but was relieved to be more comfortable nonetheless.

"Good," Ed responded. "Thank you."

"Nothing to it," Mustang said. "Has anyone ever taught you how to play cards?"

Ed raised an eyebrow in question, it had come out of nowhere and made little sense.

"My sisters and I used to play all the time. If you want, I can bring a deck tomorrow and we can set up a game with the three of us. Four if Hawkeye stops in," Roy offered.

"I'll think about it," Ed muttered. It sounded exhausting and in truth he just wanted to retreat back to the dorms, forget everything that had happened, and move on with his life. He knew Mustang was just trying to keep him entertained and include him, but he wanted things to be normal again.

Normal Mustang would have never offered to play card games with him.

Normal Mustang wouldn't spend the night in a hospital chair to keep him company.

Normal Mustang wouldn't hesitate to tease him about anything and everything.

Ed had been hospitalized multiple times before, and not once had Mustang ever spent the nights staying in the room with him.

What had changed?

Were things really that bad?

He still felt like shit, physically, but knew he'd had worse. He knew things were fucked up in a different manner now, but it still didn't explain the sudden change of heart the General was showing with him.

Was it a trick?

It seemed probable.

Hohenheim had been kind and generous when they'd first interacted. A trick to get Ed to let his guard down, so that he could tear into him.

Did Mustang want to do the same thing Hohenheim had?

Mustang certainly had plenty of reasoning to want to hurt him, between his spitfire attitude, foul language, and general disregard for his superiors – Roy included. Ed had certainly been a thorn in his side ever since he came to Central.

A hand on his knee broke him from his paranoia-induced spiraling and Ed sighed. Mustang was trying to get his attention, and Ed knew his silence worried the man.

He'd have all the time in the world to sit and stew on why things were unfolding the way they were, or what people's true motives were.

Though Ed supposed it didn't matter, because it all boiled down to the same point.

They wanted to hurt him, to get revenge for the things he'd said and done.

The small spark left from the fiery alchemist before him flared up in protest, but Ed was quick to shove it aside.

After all, he understood where everyone was coming from.

He deserved it.

A/N: We are slowly but surely getting there! I had an oddly cathartic time writing Ed's inner monologue, and always enjoy diving more into his character from an alternate perspective, especially after the situations tossed at him. One of my favorite things to write for sure, and hopefully it wasn't too boring to read.

The next chapter definitely picks things back up from this purgatory between the peak of the "hurt" and start of the "comfort". It's been a needed breather/character development section before stuff starts getting messy as it inevitably will for them, but I personally am excited for things to pick back up a little. I've only just started the next chapter, but know where it'll go and hope that for the time being this current chapter is a relatively enjoyable segway before we get there.

Thank you as always for the continued support, even after my long LONG unintentional hiatus. I am forever and always grateful to have you here 3