Ch 2: Overworked
Rated K
Characters: Edward, Pinako
Timeline: general
Notes: i knew right away I wanted to do something with being overworked and exhausted due to automail things (bc me and my medical obsession) but i didn't know when i wanted it to take place. Then i thought, duh, during ed's rehab. After all, that's the part of the timeline where simple things takes place, and i'm trying to get the ball rolling with inspiration for that story again. My first thought was to have it be ed and al as the focus, but then i decided i really wanted a sweet moment between ed and pinako, bc she doesn't get enough love. So here
Pinako cracks open the door to Recovery 1, focusing on the undefined lump of blankets marking Edward's place in the bed. He's been there all day, and she purses her lips, a mix of sympathy and frustration worming its way into her chest. She steps inside, walking up to the bedside. He's still asleep, slightly flushed and sweaty with low grade fever. Self-inflicted fever, she thinks exasperatedly. He's spent the last week working almost nonstop with his latest automail leg, and all the stress has finally caught up to him. He spent the night throwing up, and spent the day sleeping. She's already had to talk to him before about overworking himself (and in a much worse situation), and while he's much better about it now, sometimes he still gets so caught up in making his automail work that he neglects all his basic needs.
She reaches out, tracing her fingers gently along his cheek. She loves him so much, but he drives her crazy sometimes. He always has, ever since he started walking and talking. She sometimes wondered how Trisha could deal with him full-time, until she found herself having to deal with him full-time. He's too smart for his own good, and too stubborn to listen to reason. But, God, she would do anything to keep him safe…like she should have when he and Al committed that taboo.
Ed's eyes flutter with her touch, and after a moment he opens them, looking blearily up at her.
"How're you feeling, Sprout?" Pinako asks.
A noncommittal grunt answers that question, and he closes his eyes again.
"Do you need anything?"
He thinks for a moment. "Water."
She nods, picking up the empty glass on the nightstand and taking it to the attached lavatory to fill. She hands it back to him, and he sits half-upright, taking long, greedy drinks.
"Slow down, you don't want to throw up again," she warns.
He gulps down the last bit. "I'm not nauseous anymore."
"Even still, it's not good to drink so fast on an empty stomach. Now, how're you feeling?" she asks again.
He fiddles with the end of his blanket, speaking quietly and averting his gaze. "It hurts."
"I bet," she replies, a little incredulous. "It hurts when people do it for a normal three years. I can't even imagine how you're feeling."
His frown deepens a little. He knows she still disapproves of his decision to master his automail in one year—and to become a State Alchemist afterwards.
She sighs, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. "You know, you're never going to meet your deadline if you keep overworking yourself like this. You still haven't even gotten your arm yet. It's going to get twice as hard to do therapy once you have it, and you'll need to be even more careful."
He doesn't respond; he knows all this already. She sighs again, pulling him against her chest and resting her head on top of his. After a moment, she feels him wrap his arm tightly around her. It makes her heart break a little more, because he almost never seeks physical comfort from her—or anyone.
"It's just so hard, Granny," he says.
"I know," she replies, stroking his hair.
"I wish this never happened."
"I know."
"I just want to fix him."
"I know."
"How do I make it better?"
"What? Your brother or yourself?"
"I dunno. All of it, I guess."
"You just keep working hard…but not too hard. That's all you really can do right now, Ed."
"...I know. I just want it to be better right now." He sniffles lightly, and she squeezes him harder.
"I know." There's really nothing else she can say. She also wishes this whole thing never happened, but it did, so she has to help them through it…Even if she doesn't agree with where it's going. "Do you want another compress?" she asks after a moment. She had given him a warm compress for his leg earlier, but took it off a few hours ago when she last checked on him. He nods into her chest. "Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes." She starts to pull away, but he holds onto her shirt.
"Wait," he says.
"What?"
"Can you…um…can I…" he looks away, obviously uncomfortable. "I have to…"
Pinako realizes what he's asking and shakes her head. "My goodness, Edward, it's been six months and you're still embarrassed to ask me to use the bathroom."
His expression morphs into an odd mix of embarrassment and anger. "Shut up! I've been fine getting there on my own for over a month! I didn't think I'd still have to ask for help by now!" The look deepens into frustration. "It's stupid. I shouldn't need help anymore…"
"You wouldn't need help anymore if you didn't overwork yourself so much you can't walk," she replies sternly but not without love. "Now stop being embarrassed. I've done this for hundreds of patients who aren't family."
"I'm sick of being your patient," Ed mumbles.
Pinako sighs again. "I know. I wish you weren't. I never once thought you or Al would need help from us like this. But even if you are my patient, you're also still my grandson." She gives him one last hug. "Now come on. Let's go so you can go back to sleep."
Pinako takes Ed's arm, letting him rest the majority of his weight on her. He can barely support himself, strained muscles wobbling like jelly with every movement. His automail leg is practically dead weight, the muscles in his stump so fatigued he can't even send strong enough nerve impulses to move the machine. Not without really trying, at least, and he's too sore and weak to want to try; he barely even wants to move his real leg. Pinako helps him to the bathroom, going off to remake the compress so he can have some privacy. She may not be the biggest fan of alchemy, but it is convenient to be able to ask Alphonse to instantly heat up matter. This way, it takes two minutes to do something that would normally take almost twenty.
When she re-enters Recovery 1, Ed is finished and waiting for her. She helps him back to bed, squeezing his hand supportively when his face twists in discomfort.
"It's okay, Sprout. You'll feel better soon," she says, running her fingers through his hair again.
"But what if I don't?" he asks, watching as she picks up the compress.
"You will, and this'll be a lesson to not overwork yourself so much." She lays the hot rubber water bottle against Ed's leg port, moving to wrap a layer of gauze around it to hold it in place.
He watches the scarred skin transitioning flesh to metal disappear under the bandage. "Do you really think this'll be the last time?"
She smiles slightly. "No, not really…But I'll be here to help every time you need it." With the compress in place, she starts massaging her thumbs into the muscle of his thigh.
"That hurts worse," he deadpans.
"Sometimes it has to hurt worse before it can feel better," she replies.
He hums skeptically in response, but doesn't protest as she continues her kneading. And she's right: at first, the pain intensifies, creeping up from his leg and into his back in sharp waves. But as she works, those signals slowly dull until he's left with just a radiating warmth pulsing in his overworked muscles. He closes his eyes, taking in the relief for the first time in over a day.
"You can do this yourself, too, when you're off on your own," Pinako says, getting his attention. "Don't be so stubborn you deny yourself relief…though knowing you, you're going to be stubborn." She smiles. "But you feel better, don't you?"
Ed grins sheepishly. "Maybe a little…"
"Good. Do you want to go back to sleep?" She switches her massaging from intense to gentle so she doesn't overdo it and make him more sore than he already is, but can still offer soothing pressure.
"I think so," he replies. "I at least want to rest."
"Okay. Are you hungry at all?"
"I dunno…Maybe later."
"I'll bring you some dinner in an hour or so. I want you to at least try to eat since your nausea is gone. Your automail needs you to not only be well rested, but well fed. It can't work its best if you're not feeling your best."
"I know, I know," he says, rolling his eyes. "Winry won't let me forget that. It's like her mantra or something."
"Where do you think she learned it from?" Pinako grins.
Ed groans in mock annoyance. Pinako smiles, pulling his head forward to kiss the top of his hair. Normally, being the proud eleven-year-old he is, he would recoil from any form of affection, but he allows it this time.
"Me, Al, and Winry all love you, Edward, and we're all here for you. Don't forget that."
"I know," he says softly. "I'll try to get better."
"Yes, you will. Now rest up, so we can get back to work tomorrow."
"Okay." Ed watches her leave, settling back into his blankets. He still has a long road ahead of him before he can even start trying to find the philosopher's stone and give Alphonse his body back. He also knows it's only going to get harder from here on out, and even though he wishes it didn't have to be this way, he's not going to give up. He's going to push through the pain and hardships, and do whatever it takes to make up for his mistakes.
Because, like Pinako said, sometimes it has to hurt worse before it can feel better.
I'm sorry this is so late aghhhh. I knew it would be inconsistent but I didn't think it'd be this bad...it's midterms rn so i'm like writing papers and doing projects and it sucks. hope you all bear with me with this! till next prompt...