Welcome back! In this chapter, things really go downhill, and we'll begin to see glimpses of the pre-Mustang-visit-Edward from episode 2. Handwriting, humiliation, hopelessness... and some misconstrued tough love to add on top- we've got it all!

Enjoy!

(Update 11/5/22: edited chapter with improvements)

(Update 2/23/23: fixed dashes and hyphens)

(Update 8/8/23: mass update!)

(Update 9/25/24: mass update!)

Ch 5: Embers of a Golden Flame

Edward becomes aware of how much he wants to learn to write again on another day with his brother and Winry. The three of them are sitting on the back deck (Edward happily removed from his stupid wheelchair), enjoying the nice weather. Then, Winry decides to bring all of her art supplies outside, and she and Alphonse are now happily scribbling away on the paper—while Ed watches them closely, frowning.

He has never once considered the intricacy of moving a pencil across paper, but as he watches Winry form lines into pictures, writing dialogue above the drawings' heads, he realizes just how odd it is. He shifts his gaze to his brother's mammoth hand, making its own pictures and words. Al's work is a little shakier, since he still isn't perfect at controlling his unfeeling body, but his hand moves naturally, with the precision he's had his entire pencil-wielding life.

Ed looks at the pencil in his own hand, tapping it uncertainly against his paper. He pictures in his mind what he wants to create, which in this case is a simple cat face, but the image he manages looks more like a squiggly mess of shapes thrown together. Even with his right arm literally taken out of the equation, his brain is still programmed to be right-handed. He scowls, switching to letters instead, but can hardly recognize his own printed name.

"Whatcha working on?" Winry asks, looking at his paper.

"Nothing," Ed replies, flipping the sheet over.

It's weird how hard working with his non-dominant hand is. Things like flipping a piece of paper and bringing a spoon to his mouth are easy enough, but when he tries to write or draw, it suddenly becomes impossible. What makes handedness so different from other things?

That day, Edward silently vows to teach his brain to work left-handed. He keeps working on it, practicing writing whenever he thinks nobody's looking. Within a few days, he can write legibly again, but it's a far cry from the cursive script he had previously used.

And he hates his new handwriting, hates the too-big letters and cramped spacing, hates the sloping E and the disjointed ds in his name—but more than anything, he hates the humiliation that comes with it.

…

It's been nearly a whole month. Four weeks. Twenty-eight days. And Edward has begun to find his mood deteriorating.

For the past week, he's been content with his routine. He wakes up around lunchtime, eats with the family, and spends time with his brother and Winry for a couple hours. Then, they break off and those two go outside or upstairs, while Granny gives Ed his remaining medications and a check-up. His leg is entirely healed, but his shoulder still has stitches in it. That's the issue with arm amputation at the shoulder; being connected to the trunk makes healing slower, because any movement Ed makes is going to move his torso. Simply turning his head aggravates his shoulders, and makes it a long, grueling process to heal. Add into that all the delays he's experienced during the healing process, and it's going to be a good while longer until he's ready to have the sutures taken out. After she examines his wounds, she does a quick look-over at the rest of his body. All the medications he's been on have the potential to wreak havoc on his systems, so she has to make sure his organs are still functioning like they should. Once Granny finishes her check-up, Ed usually reads or window watches until Al and Winry come back for dinner. Then, they play a little more before he goes to bed.

But now, he's growing sick of it. The monotony, the predictability, the fact that he's still at the mercy of others. There's not a whole lot he can do on his own with two limbs; he can't even use the bathroom without his brother there, prepared to help. He misses his independence. Hell, he even misses alchemy. He can't imagine himself doing it anymore, but alchemy used to be his reason for living. It was his sole anchor to hope for six years, and now that it's done something awful, he isn't sure what to think anymore.

He shudders, remembering that white being, and the doors with their shadowy hands, and all the knowledge of alchemy being poured into his brain. He wishes he could put that knowledge to use, but right now, he's too afraid of what he'll do. He's not even sure what he's supposed to do with it, if he wasn't afraid.

So, he lets his mood deteriorate. Each passing day sours it further, and he just wants something, anything to feel like it used to.

Today is especially bad. It rained all night, keeping him from sleeping with the constant aching in his stumps, and it's still. Freaking. Raining. Granny has been in his room twice now, asking if he's ready to eat, but he just wants to lay in bed forever. She returns a third time about an hour later.

"I brought you something, Ed. Sit up."

He groans. "I just wanna sleep."

"I know for a fact you haven't slept at all today."

Ed groans again.

"Come on, I made you some soup. You'll feel better once you've eaten something."

Ed forces himself upright, grimacing as the movement aggravates his achiness. "I'm not hungry…"

"You may not feel hungry, but you still need some nutrients, Ed." She holds up the bowl. "It's chicken noodle."

Ed reaches out to take the bowl, only for his other shoulder to send a wave of pain through his chest. He cries out, hand changing course to grip his shirt. Pinako sets down the soup, and begins rubbing his back.

After a minute, Ed finally regains control of his breathing and slumps forward, defeated. "I hate rain...Ugh, it hurts so much, Granny."

"Shh, I know, Ed. Just try and relax. You're too tense."

"Because it hurts."

"Open your mouth."

Ed glances over, seeing Granny holding a spoonful of soup.

"What the hell? I don't need you to feed me like a baby," Ed growls, obviously insulted.

"You're in no shape to feed yourself. You proved that."

Ed stares at her a minute longer, before squeezing his eyes shut and opening his mouth a sliver. Pinako gives him the soup. They continue for half a dozen spoonfuls before Ed refuses to open his mouth anymore.

"Come on, Ed, you've barely eaten anything."

Ed takes a shaky breath, trying to keep unwanted tears in his eyes. "This is humiliating, Granny." He rubs his hand across his eyes, silently cursing when it comes back wet. "I can't do it anymore."

"You know I'm not trying to humiliate you, Sprout."

"I know...Can't help it." He tries in vain to refrain from crying. "I thought things were finally getting better. But today, it all went away." Pinako starts rubbing his back again. "I can't move, I can't sleep, I can't eat because it hurts so bad. I want my brother but I can't have him because he can't see me like this. I'm laying here getting fed like a baby and there's nothing I can do about it." His cries grow harder. "I feel so helpless. So useless. Worthless. I can't do it anymore…"

Pinako isn't sure what she can say. Edward has reached a low point, and she knows no amount of comforting words could help right now. So, she just keeps physical contact, letting him get out all his pent up emotion.

In the end, they stay like this for almost an hour. That's when Winry comes to check on them, and Pinako has to leave to tend to her and Alphonse.

And Edward just keeps burying himself further.

…

There's not much that seems to make Edward happy anymore.

Al and Winry can hardly get him to play with them anymore. The books Ed had been reading to pass the time increasingly sit untouched on his bedside table. Now, he mostly just seems to sit wherever they put him and stare into nothing, and it's really beginning to worry Pinako.

Today, she tries getting him to talk while she does her check-up, but he remains silent. That's been the case for the last three days; it's like he can't even hear what she says to him. She sighs, working to undo the dressing on his shoulder. "You know what, Ed? I think you're ready for the rest of your stitches to come out." She glances at him, but he doesn't react. "Isn't that good?"

He vaguely shrugs.

"It is good, because then it means we can fit you for a leg." Still no reaction. "Don't you want to walk again?"

He shrugs once more.

"Edward? What's the matter? I thought you'd be excited to get back on your feet." He looks away. "Don't you want to move on your own will? Play outside with your brother and Winry? Not have to tell us where you want to go anymore?" Nothing.

Pinako sighs, sticking him with some novocaine and pulling out the sutures in his shoulder. Once she's done, she wraps him back up. This wound she'll keep bandages on for another week or so, just because any injury to the newly healed skin could set them back weeks again. He hasn't said a single word—or even made a sound—during the whole procedure. She's just packing up her things when he finally speaks, his voice quiet and rough.

"What's the point?"

She looks back at him. He's still turned away from her, head in his hand. "What do you mean?"

"What's the point of walking again?" he clarifies.

"To give you your mobility back, Ed."

His eyes darken further. "I don't care about that anymore, Granny. There's no point in wasting your time on me."

"It's not a waste of time. This is what I do for a living. You know that."

"But I don't deserve it." He shakes his head. "I killed Mom and made Alphonse lose his body. I ruined everything. This…" His fingers dig into his left leg. "...this is what I deserve."

"Well, I disagree…" she starts, measuring her words carefully. He's emotionally unstable right now, and she doesn't want to say anything that will make him shut down again, now that he's speaking. "But...I can't make you do anything you don't want to. If you want to keep using the wheelchair, that's fine."

Ed scoffs. "You think this is what I want? I hate it. But it's all I deserve."

"You need to stop being so hard on yourself, Sprout. I think being able to walk again would make you a lot happier."

"Why should I be happy?"

Pinako looks back at Ed's face, hoping to see some sign he's joking, but his expression is deadly serious. "I think it would make your brother a lot happier too," she adds, voice slightly shaky.

Ed's eyes narrow. "The only thing that would make Al happy is having his body again."

"Do you really believe that?"

Edward ignores this question. "I could do it, you know. I could get it back. It would probably cost all I have left of my body, but I could do it. And I would do it without a second thought."

That's enough. Pinako reaches out and turns Ed's head to face her. "Listen to me. You know for a fact that would do nothing but make your brother miserable." He tries to pull away, but she holds his face firmly. "The day that boy came to my door holding his half-dead brother, he was absolutely hysterical. He's terrified of losing you, Edward. And you're going to tell me he'd be happier if you sacrificed yourself for his body?"

Ed holds eye contact for a minute longer before breaking away. "No. He wouldn't." He sighs. "But I'd still do anything to fix him…"

"I know you would. But give your brother a little credit…Alphonse is a tough boy, Ed. He's already learning to make the most out of life. And I'm certain he wants you to do the same."

Ed remains quiet for a minute, deep in thought. "Even if that's the case...I can't do it." His fingers wrap tightly around his armrest. "I can't do something I don't feel I deserve. I have to give in order to accept, and there's nothing I can give that would be worth your kindness. So, I'm staying like this. Even if it's the last thing I want."

Pinako still feels like this is unfair, but she doesn't push him further. A determined Edward Elric is rather unstoppable, after all.

She's learned that the hard way.

...

They're outside on the front lawn, books spread all around them. It's a familiar sight with the Elric brothers, but instead of the alchemy texts they used to consume themselves with, it's picture books. Edward can't even imagine looking at an alchemy book right now, and even though both he and Al are far too old for picture books, there's a strange comfort in the colorful drawings and simple sentences. It almost makes him feel like when he was a toddler, snuggled into his mother's warmth as she read to him and Alphonse. He blinks, swallowing the lump of emotion that rises in his throat with the memory.

Al looks over at him, hearing the muted sound as Ed chokes down his tears. "Brother? Is something wrong?"

Only everything, Ed thinks, but he just shakes his head, refocusing on the book in his lap.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

Ed nods, trying to appear completely and utterly absorbed in the tale about knights and dragons before him. Al sees this and sighs, giving up and going back to his own book.

Ed continues reading, the words entering his eyes but not reaching his brain. No, his mind is far too busy for that. His gaze comes to rest on the illustration on the page. A knight in shining armor stands with his sword drawn, defending a princess while a dragon faces them on the other side. Edward has always been protective of his little brother, right from the moment he was born. He's defended him from bullies, helped him home when he fell off his bike and couldn't walk, brought him food and kept him company when he was sick. But when it came time to face the dragon, Ed failed to protect him. He doesn't know if he can ever forgive himself for that.

A minute later, Edward asks Alphonse to bring him back inside. He can't do this any longer.

...

Oftentimes, tough love is the best kind of love. As automail technician and technician-in-training, the Rockbells have plenty of experience in that department.

The Elrics have been at the Rockbells' for over a month now, and Edward's recovery progress has just about come to a halt. Pinako knows it's because he's depressed, but letting him give up is the last thing he needs. If he's going to learn to live with two limbs, he has to start doing things on his own again. So, she's going to have to be hard on him; she's been holding his hand through this entire ordeal, and it's time to let go.

When Ed wakes up this afternoon, she's waiting.

"Granny? What're you doing here?" the eleven-year-old asks groggily. Normally when he wakes up, he calls for Alphonse to help him get ready.

"Waiting for you," she replies. She holds out a shirt and a pair of shorts. "Go on and get dressed, Ed." He lifts his arm, waiting for her to slide the shirt over his head, but she doesn't move.

A look of realization crosses Ed's face. "You want me to do it?" Pinako nods, and Ed takes the clothes from her, frowning.

He looks at the shirt and shorts like they're some kind of puzzle before sliding his arm through its designated hole and trying to pull the rest over his head. It takes several seconds, but he finally wrestles the garment on, straightening it out across his shoulders and torso. He picks up the shorts, looking once again with intense focus, as if he's trying to dissect the art of clothing oneself. He gets his legs through just fine, but when it comes time to pull it over his waist, he pauses. When Al helps him dress, he gets Ed's pants over his ankle and then holds him steady so he can stand and get them the rest of the way up. Without standing, he's not sure what to do next. It takes a minute, but he ends up lying back on the bed, using his leg for support to lift his hips off the mattress and force the shorts up. Once he's done, he glares at her.

"What was that for, Granny?" he asks irritably.

She just shrugs, pulling his chair up beside the bed.

"Where's Al?"

Pinako crosses her arms, looking at him expectantly. Thankfully, her experience in the medical field grants her a heart of stone when need be; the look he's giving her right now would make any other woman melt with pity.

"Why're you doing this all the sudden?" Ed looks to the doorway, hoping to catch sight of his metal brother, but the younger boy doesn't appear. Pinako had already explained her plan to Al and Winry, and told them to stay away until she called for them. "I can't do it by myself," Ed says meekly.

"Yes, you can." He looks back at her. "Remember, Ed, I've done this for thirty years. I've seen plenty of people with missing pieces get themselves from bed to chair on their own."

Ed exhales slowly, contemplating his options. "What if I just stay here?" he asks.

"Then you'll be missing lunch," she replies flatly.

He's still for a moment before a look of defeat crosses his features, and he slides to the edge of the bed. The opposite placement of his remaining limbs has seriously messed up his balance, and he doesn't know if he's accustomed enough to it to attempt standing alone. So he pulls the chair as close as possible, angling it so he can basically fall off the bed and into the seat.

"There. Happy now?" he growls, getting situated better.

Pinako leaves her poker face on. "Alright, Al, you can come in now!" she yells. Ed hears his brother come around the corner and down the hall, then into the room.

"Did he do it?" the armor asks.

Ed's head snaps around. "Wait, you were in on that?!"

Al shrinks back slightly. "Um…"

Ed scowls, turning away. "I can't believe you...that was awful!"

"I'm sorry, Brother, but she said it was going to help you!" Al tries defending himself. "She said I couldn't do anything until she called for me." Ed still won't look at him, and Al's metaphorical blood freezes. He hates it when Ed is mad at him, especially when it isn't his fault. "But I'm here now, and we can go to lunch."

"Just leave me alone," Ed grumbles.

"Please, Ed…" Al tries again, and Ed finally glances back. The moment he does, his anger dissipates.

Alphonse has no way of showing emotion anymore, but somehow, Edward can still see it. The bulky armor fades away, replaced with a pleading little boy. Ed can hold grudges like no one else, but there's one person he can never stay mad at. As long as Al has been alive, Ed has never been able to hold his fury against him, and even now, he can't bring himself to stay angry. Wherever Alphonse is concerned, Edward can shift from the ill-tempered firecracker he's made himself known as to a submissive people-pleaser in a blink of an eye.

"Fine," Ed says softly. Al pushes Ed to the dining room, and he takes the rest of Granny's challenges without complaint. Unprepared food, unassisted restroom trips, brushing his teeth at a sink far too tall for someone sitting down...he does it all, because he doesn't want to hear Al's voice plead with him again.

...

That night, back in bed and exhausted by the strain of truly figuring out how to work around his handicap for the first time, Edward lets his mind wander.

It would just be so much easier if he didn't have to do anything anymore. Granny said if he laid in bed all day, he would miss meals and stuff, but she wouldn't actually just let him die. If he really refused to do anything, she'd have to give in. Right now, the only motivation Ed has for doing anything is not disappointing his little brother—but if he's not around, then Al can't be disappointed.

Yeah. He shouldn't be forced to do things that upset him. And at the moment, anything and everything to do with thinking about his self-maiming is upsetting. That means getting dressed, getting out of bed, that damned wheelchair, it's all out the window. Ed furrows his brow, staring at the despicable item in the corner. He can't do this anymore. Not after today.

What would Mom think of all this?

Ed squeezes his eyes shut, trying to force the thought away, but it keeps coming back. And now when he thinks of his mother, instead of the smiling, fair skinned lady with chestnut colored hair, his mind only pictures that broken, bloody creature he made. Its twisted form is in every memory, blocking out her gentle features and kind words and replacing them with glowing eyes and sputtering exhales. He wants to escape the images, to go back to the pleasant memories he'd confided in for so long, but it's his fault they're gone. He's the one who replaced them with bloodstains and backwards skeletons.

Mom...Mom... Al...

Ed breathes in shakily, covering his eyes with his hand. His life has become a living hell, and he has no one to blame for it but himself.

Soooo I definitely didn't try to dress myself with one arm and leg when writing this chapter... or write a whole bunch of stuff with my left hand... or move from my bed to a desk chair using one arm and leg...

I take pride in writing accurately XD

Hope you all enjoyed and will join me next time!