Ch 14: No Anesthesia

Rated K+

Characters: Winry, Edward

Timeline: general

Notes: aaaaaand back at it again with the automail angst (because I have a brand at this point XD). This time we've got something that just loosely fits the prompt but it works, alright? It's also more of Winry's thoughts cause I guess I've done enough of Ed's…

I don't particularly like 03 all that much, but I do like how automail work seems to affect Ed so much more—to the point of being out of it for hours after getting it reconnected. It feels a lot more realistic to me…I also don't know when exactly this takes place but I'd say somewhere before the show, when they're newly fifteen…

Winry had often been told that the connection of automail to nerves was one of the most painful experiences known to man. It made sense; the nervous system is a person's very sense of feeling, and connecting automail sends a massive amount of electrical impulses into that system. She could only imagine what that would feel like…it was bad enough to stub your toe and have the pain centered to one body part. To have it in your entire nervous system…she didn't like to think about it. Automail was well worth it in her eyes because of all the freedom and control it provided, but she wished it didn't have to be so painful to connect—especially since anesthetics and painkillers couldn't be administered. It was a barbaric necessity; the outfittee had to be able to feel everything, because they had to be able to feel if something went wrong.

As a consequence, patients tended to scream or cry (or both) during docking. When Winry was little, she used to be scared by this reaction. Mom, Dad, and Granny had her watching automail work from the ripe age of five, but she'd been so horrified by the docking that her parents decided it could wait a while before she saw another one. In fact, it wasn't until after they'd died that she witnessed another connection, because she desperately wanted to fill their roles and begged Granny to let her officially start apprenticing. It was just as scary as the first time but she learned to force down her fear and guilt, because once the pain was gone, the person would have a functional limb again. Screaming and crying were just natural responses to pain, and in the end, she was helping.

However, there was one patient who, in his four years of having automail, had never screamed or cried during docking. And, of course, that patient was her idiot childhood friend.

Edward and Alphonse had shown up in Resembool two days ago (again without calling, she lamented), and Winry immediately knew Ed's automail had to be broken. That was the only reason they ever came home, after all…and sure enough, the idiot had managed to break a support in his elbow joint, making the lower half of the arm hang there uselessly. Winry took the arm out and Pinako checked the leg, finding it about half an inch shorter than its companion. She said it wasn't mandatory he get it adjusted, but Ed took any sign of growth as monumental and insisted this half-inch be recognized. So, Pinako took the leg out as well, and two days later, both limbs were ready for docking.

Edward sat on the couch, reading an old book of his while he waited for the Rockbells to set up. Alphonse was sitting on the floor nearby, also reading. Winry observed them, looking for any signs of how they were feeling. Back before leaving for the military, Ed was always visibly nervous for each new piece of automail he got. Now, he was just sitting there, nonchalant as could be. She knew he still had to be nervous, because it was the body's instinct to want to avoid things that hurt. But Ed, ever the stubborn, unbreakable boy, was pretending nothing was wrong. Winry pulled over a cushioned stool and set Ed's metal leg on it.

"Are you guys ready?" he asked.

"Mm-hm," Winry confirmed. "You know the drill."

Edward put down his book, sitting upright and positioning himself so his ports were accessible. Alphonse got up and left, because he knew Ed didn't like being seen while he was in pain; he wished he could stay for moral support, but Ed always insisted he leave. With Al gone, Pinako clicked Ed's leg into place while Winry set his arm. This was where Winry started to see the first signs of real tension in her friend, his back and shoulders going rigid in anticipation.

In a last ditch attempt to break his stubborn streak, Winry said, "You know it's okay to cry, Ed." But he showed no sign he heard, and she sighed, setting her Allen wrench in its socket. "On three…one, two, three!" She and Pinako twisted their wrenches, and a short, strained noise escaped from behind Ed's gritted teeth. His fingers dug into the couch and his right foot into the floor, but just like every single time before, he did not scream and he did not cry. Winry knew he was in pain; his eyes were absolutely drowning in it, all big and watery, but he didn't let the tears fall. The Rockbells waited another moment, letting the connections settle.

"Everything feel alright?" Pinako asked after a minute.

Ed relaxed slightly, testing out the movement of his metal fingers and toes. He still felt all tingly and achy, but the automail responded like it should. He nodded, not feeling well enough yet to trust his voice.

"Okay." Pinako nodded, and she and Winry quickly finished tightening their respective bolts. Pinako fluffed the pillow at the edge of the couch, reaching over to ruffle Ed's hair. "You can lay down now, Sprout."

Edward did, stretching out on the couch and closing his eyes. The phone rang and Pinako left to answer it, telling Winry to run through the post-docking checklist. Winry put her tools away before returning to the living room, watching her friend sadly. For some people, the pain of docking was too much, and they would pass out during the procedure. For the first year, Edward had been one of those people, but he eventually learned to tolerate the pain enough to stay conscious. He wasn't immune to the exhaustion and mild illness that typically followed, but she was pretty sure he wasn't actually asleep right now. He usually just rested for about half an hour, then got up, had the outer plating of his limbs reattached, did some exercises, and went on his way. That was another thing Winry didn't understand. She knew that, logically, he wouldn't be feeling great for several hours…yet he only let himself rest for half of one. He wasn't so special that automail didn't affect him like it did other people; no, he just chose to ignore the effects and push ahead. It was actually pretty frustrating to Winry. Why was he such an idiot? Why didn't he give himself a break from time to time?

Winry sighed, sitting on the end of the couch by Ed's feet. He shifted slightly in reaction to her presence, brows furrowing—and confirming her suspicion that he wasn't asleep. "Ed?" she asked softly.

A hazy golden eye cracked open, glancing in her direction. "Mm."

"How're you feeling?" she continued.

"Fine," he mumbled in response, closing his eye again.

A spark of anger lit in Winry's chest. He was always fine. "Why do you do that?" she asked sharply.

"...Do what?"

"Pretend like you're not in pain."

Ed opened both eyes, looking unfocused at the floor ahead of him. "...'S not that bad."

Winry clenched her fists, wanting to yell at the idiot but restraining herself from doing so. This wasn't the time. "I'm a mechanic, Edward. I know it's 'that bad'."

"Not to me."

"You're not so much tougher than everyone else that you can't feel pain."

Ed frowned slightly, the only sign of his frustration to make it through his exhaustion. "Always had a high pain tolerance."

"I know. But automail's not the same as getting injured."

"Why do you care so much?"

Winry blinked, in disbelief of what she just heard. "What—what do you mean, why do I care so much?!"

Edward finally realized what he said, eyes widening and turning toward her. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Winry beat him to it, earlier restraint be damned.

"I've known you my whole life and you ask me why I care so much? You're so stupid sometimes!" For once, Ed knew better than to interrupt. "Automail docking is one of the most painful experiences on earth and yet you've never once let yourself cry from it! Why do you do that? Why don't you ever let yourself feel pain?" At this point, Winry was talking about more than just automail, and Ed knew it.

He remained quiet for a minute more before simply saying, "You know why."

And Winry replied, "And you know that Al has told you a million times that you don't have to be strong for him. He's not so fragile that seeing you cry will break him. He'll be sad, of course, but it's no different than how you'd feel watching him cry."

"Al can't cry."

"But you can, and you refuse to! I…" Winry trailed off, averting her gaze. "It worries me sometimes, okay? It's not healthy to keep all your emotions inside."

When she looked back at Edward, he was looking at her—really looking. "...I know," he said. He didn't start crying, and he didn't tell her how much pain he was in; but just admitting that he knew his habit wasn't healthy…It was a start. Winry could accept it.

…For now.

Winry sighed again, her words tight. "Just rest, alchemy freak."

Ed looked at her a moment longer before turning his head and re-closing his eyes. Winry ran through the post-docking checklist like Granny had asked, taking Ed's temperature and writing down any physical symptoms she could see. His automail wasn't shaking or twitching, so there didn't appear to be any undue stress to his nervous system; check. His temperature and breathing rate weren't overly elevated, so the rest of his systems must have been functioning fine; check. His coloring was overall slightly pale but flushed in the face, which was an expected symptom and nothing concerning; check. Everything in her post-docking Edward-check-up was fine. Now she'd just have to wait for the post-docking automail-check-up.

He laid on the couch for another twenty minutes, still not asleep, but unwilling to get up. When his nausea was finally manageable enough, he opened his eyes, pushing himself upright and holding his automail hand in front of his face. He looked at it, scrutinizing, and was apparently satisfied with what he saw because he returned it to his side and looked for Winry.

"I'm ready for your dumb checklist," he said when he saw her, sitting back by his feet.

"Firstly, it's not dumb, it's necessary," Winry huffed. "And secondly, it's only been half an hour since docking. You don't have to move on so quickly."

"But I can, so I will," Ed replied.

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should," Winry shot back. "It's normally hours before people feel up to using their automail. How many times have me and Granny told you that?"

"It's fine. You know I'm too impatient to wait so long."

Winry stared at Edward for half a minute, silently burning fury in her eyes. Then, she sighed, forcefully expelling her frustration with his stubbornness. "Whatever. Come on." She stood starting off toward the physical therapy room on the medical side of the house. Edward followed, wishing he could put an end to Winry's standoffish attitude—without having to admit to anything he did wrong.

Winry had Ed complete a set of exercises to test his limbs' range of motion, then another set to test his fine motor control. And like always, despite his refusal to rest, he passed the tests with flying colors. She truly didn't understand it; how could someone be in so much pain and perform so well?

Half an hour later, Edward was sitting on the floor, stretching out his chest and back muscles. He paused for a moment. "Winry?"

"Hm?" she responded, admittedly still a bit tersely.

"Connection does hurt. A lot. And I do hate it. A lot." He stared at his lap, mouth in a tight line and eyes narrowed slightly. "But I guess I just accepted it as necessary pain. Because of Al. But I…I do wish it was easier. I wish I didn't have to be awake."

Then, he went back to his stretch routine.

Winry stood there, mouth slightly agape. Edward Elric wasn't someone she would ever describe as vulnerable. She could count on her fingers the number of times he had really opened up to her—no matter how much she wished he would do it all the time. But, whenever he gave her even a tiny glimpse into his real thoughts and feelings, she treasured it. It reminded her that, no matter how stubborn and independent he was, he really did trust her. She would do whatever she could to whittle away at his hard exterior, and hopefully, someday, he would feel comfortable enough to let her all the way in.

"...I wish it was easier too, Ed."

well that was a lame one but whatever...they can't all be winners haha. See ya next time