hello friends! Welcome back to the story! In this chapter, Ed has just about reached the lowest point of his downward spiral, and it's getting serious. We've got some Pinako and Ed interactions (duh), some much needed Ed and Al interactions, and some random stranger interactions. Hope you enjoy!

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

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

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

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

Ch 6: Burning Out

"Alright, Ed, it's time to get up."

Ed recoils at Pinako's voice. He's come to dread that sentence in the past four days. Getting up means he has to leave the relative normalcy laying in bed offers. When he's in bed, he can almost forget the effects missing an arm and leg have on living. Sure, it's not ideal, but laying in bed is something he can do on his own. Getting up, on the other hand, means facing reality—and right now, reality is help and dependence and that wheelchair he despises with every fiber of his being.

"I know you're awake. You can't fake sleep around me."

He feels a hand muss up his hair. It used to be a pleasant sensation, but lately, it's almost felt like fire on his scalp rather than the loving gesture he knows it is. The feeling of each individual strand of hair, the fingers running between them...it just makes him think about how he used to do the same thing to Al, and he can't anymore. Al is gone—just as much as he's here, he's gone—and Ed's own sense of touch almost feels like an unfair ability when his little brother can't feel anything.

"Let's go, Ed. I've got lunch ready, and I'm not letting you miss another meal." Pinako pokes the tip of his nose. "It's bad enough you're still sleeping through breakfast, and I'm not about to let you waste away." She doesn't really blame him for sleeping so much—the few remaining medications he's on make him drowsy, after all—but she wants to inject a little humor where she can.

Ed hears Pinako move from the bed to the dresser, and he finally allows his eyes to open. She pulls out a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, tossing them on the bed. "Get dressed. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Ed watches her leave through stony eyes, rubbing his sheets between his fingers. Once she's gone, his hand finds the clothing, and he forces himself upright. He's managed to get out of dressing himself for a few days, but he knows it won't be long until she brings Alphonse in here and has him do it. There's only so many times the threat can stay empty, after all. So, he wrestles into the outfit, because letting it get to that point is worse than the pain of putting it on himself. By the time he finally gets the shorts onto his waist, he's exhausted and sick of the waking world. It almost makes him miss those first few weeks where he was in and out of consciousness and in constant danger of complications; at least then Granny couldn't make him get out of bed.

The door opens and Pinako walks in again. Ed scowls at her. "You could have knocked. What if I wasn't done changing?" She replies with a knowing look; before Ed was healed enough, let alone conscious, she did everything for him, and he knows that. It's just another thing to add to the list of frustrations.

Pinako moves the wheelchair against the bed, but he's still just lying there. "Come on, Ed. You need lunch." He doesn't move but his eyes shift to meet hers, the golden gaze harsh and cold.

"I'm tired. Can't you just bring me lunch today?"

"You know you're too far in your recovery to eat in bed."

"But I'm tired."

"I'm not arguing with you, Ed. Get up, or I'll bring Alphonse in here." She knows that will work, because the one thing he despises more than putting himself in the chair is somebody else putting him in it. Especially his little brother; it's one thing to be an invalid on your own terms but to be at the mercy of a family member is almost too much to bear.

...Not that he isn't at the mercy of a family member already.

Ed slides over the edge of the mattress, falling into the seat. Granny takes him to the dining room, where Winry and Al are playing cards.

"Brother!" Al says cheerfully. "I beat Winry three times in a row! Makes me wonder how I can never beat you…"

"Because Ed's a cheater, Al," Winry replies.

"I am not!" Ed forces a smile. "Let's go right now, Al, I'll prove it!"

"Not until you're done eating," Pinako cuts in, setting a plate of chicken and potatoes in front of him. "You too, Winry."

"Fine." Winry picks up her fork and knife, sawing off a piece of chicken and stuffing it in her mouth. "But I'm going to be watching you, Ed!" she says around the food. "You're definitely a cheater."

Ed looks at his own plate, finding once again his food hasn't been cut. So, as he's done since Granny stopped preparing it, he stabs the chicken breast with his fork and takes a bite right out of the whole, just to spite her.

"Edward…" Pinako says exasperatedly, putting down her own utensils.

"What, Granny? I'm eating," he says, taking another bite.

She gives him a look, one that both Winry and Alphonse have come to recognize: you won't keep getting away with that.

Ed doesn't like hurting her feelings, but he knows when he can make some exceptions.

...

Word travels quickly in small towns. Whether it's something as innocent as a new family moving in, or as serious as the sudden maiming of two children, everyone knows local news within days.

Somehow, Pinako has managed to keep the Elric boys' situation a secret for a month, but it was bound to get out eventually. And now, she's been getting visitors she desperately doesn't want.

In general, the people of Resembool mean well, but they're still human, and humans are curious creatures. Pinako has tried to come up with a plausible excuse for the boys' states, and while a tragic car accident sounds okay enough for Edward's limb loss (nevermind the lack of a car or any reason they would have to be near one), she can't think of anything that could explain away Alphonse. The boy is ten years old, and it's physically impossible for his body to be in a seven foot tall set of armor and control it. Everyone knows Al's voice, and the voice in the armor is Al. How can she explain that?

Finally she decides she'll tell the partial truth. The boys had an accident involving alchemy, and if asked further, Alphonse is now a soul inside a suit of armor while Edward lost two limbs. That's all they need to know, because none of them are versed in alchemy, and will have no way to connect those effects to human transmutation. Even non-alchemists such as the farmers in Resembool understand that term means sin, but they won't be able to connect the dots if they aren't told explicitly. She just hopes the kids will understand her reasoning.

They do not.

Edward breaks out in a fit of yelling and obscenity when she gathers the three of them and explains.

"They're going to hate us! They already don't know anything about alchemy, and now you told them it hurt us? How could you tell them that, Granny?" Ed drags his hand down his face, voice caught between fury and fear.

"Because I can't explain the two of you any other way, Ed!" Pinako replies. "You're one thing, but Alphonse is another. You really think they won't figure out he's not actually in there?"

Ed considers this, letting out a frustrated growl as he buries his head onto the table. There really is no other explanation, and that fact infuriates him. In his panic, he'd picked the first human-shaped thing he saw, and didn't think about the consequences attaching a soul to it could reap.

Then, almost as if they know the conversation happening inside, a series of loud knocks sound at the door. Pinako curses under her breath, getting up to answer it.

"What?" she asks, not even attempting to hide the irritation in her voice. Of course someone just has to stop by when the kids are upset.

It's Mr. and Mrs. Stillwater, the young couple from the opposite side of town. "Terribly sorry to bother you, Pinako. We heard about the Elrics and thought we'd bring some goods for the four of you."

Pinako knows they aren't really sorry; they're curious, just like everyone else. She sighs. "That's thoughtful of you." She reaches out to take the paper bag in Mrs. Stillwater's arms as the couple peer into the house, trying to catch a glimpse of the rumor-laden boys.

"How are they doing?" Mrs. Stillwater asks, ignoring Pinako's attempt to shoo her and her husband away.

"Fine," Pinako says curtly.

"Do they need any company?"

"We're not having visitors right now." Pinako tries to close the door. "Thank you for the groceries."

"I was always wary of that freaky alchemy stuff," Mr. Stillwater says lightly. "When we have kids, we're not going to let them anywhere near it. Don't need them hurting themselves, too."

Pinako's heart drops. "Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Stillwater."

The husband and wife finally surrender and let the door shut. Pinako exhales slowly, turning back to the children with a calm expression in case they didn't hear. No such luck. Ed's face is twisted in misery, Winry is concerned, and the glowing light of Al's eyes is snuffed out. Pinako zeroes in on Ed, who looks like he's about to burst into tears, and she ushers the other two upstairs with gentle suggestion. They can probably sense Ed's despair, too. Once they're gone, the tears in Ed's eyes spill over, and Pinako stands beside him, softly rubbing his arm as she waits for words.

"I can't do this, Granny," he chokes out between sobs. "I can't…" He pulls his good leg up, pressing his face into his knee. "It's too much." He sucks in a breath, trying to stop crying, but it's clear his body has other plans. "I don't know what to do anymore. Alchemy was all I had, and—and—I don't know what to believe in now. I killed Mom, and I almost killed Alphonse. I don't want to hurt anyone else!" He breaks back into sobbing.

"Now you listen to me, Edward, I don't want you thinking anything like that," Pinako says. "You can do this; you're Trisha's boy, after all, and she raised you to be stronger than anything life can throw at you. I know it feels hopeless right now, but it will get better. Those people don't know what they're talking about." She moves her hand from his arm to his back, rubbing soothing circles into what she can reach. "You made a mistake, but you didn't kill nobody. And you're not going to hurt nobody either."

Ed swallows a few times, calming his shaky breathing. "I just...I just want things to be how they were. I feel so trapped."

Pinako isn't sure if he's referring to his handicap or the whole situation. Probably both. "I know, Sprout. I'm sorry."

That's not the answer he wants, but he knows it's all she can say. Well meaning words can't change reality, after all.

...

Edward knows what depression is. That's not a thing many eleven-year-olds are concerned with, but Edward had it explained to him many years earlier. After his mother's death, he fell into depression, but as someone who'd barely reached his sixth year, he couldn't understand all the emotions, and lack thereof, inside him. Worried, Pinako gave him a simple idea of what depression is, and how to get through it.

Unfortunately, the way he got through it was convincing himself he could bring his mother back from the dead.

Now that's failed; he's been reduced to a cripple, and his brother to a bodiless soul, and he's finding himself thrust back into a world of depression even worse than back then.

Pinako isn't blind. She sees this happen, sees the life drain from Ed's eyes a little more every time he opens them in the morning. He's lost all his motivation to get better, because that would mean he has some kind of future to work toward. Pinako knows he does; he's the smartest child she's ever met, and has the capacity to do a lot with that intellect. But Ed can no longer see what he can do, just what he can't. And right now, that's a discouragingly long list. Add onto that his metal brother and the failed resurrection of his mother, and he has the perfect recipe for a hole that will be extremely difficult to crawl out of.

The other children don't understand depression the way Pinako and, to a lesser extent, Edward do. But they understand he's different, and want to know what happened.

Winry understands it enough. She's seen plenty of depressed amputees come in and out of her home, and read about it as a result. She has her suspicions about her friend, and when she sees Ed's prescription chart change, she asks why. Alphonse sees him talking and eating less, and asks why. Both of them see him playing with them less, and ask why.

Pinako doesn't know how to answer. She put him on some antidepressants, but they didn't seem to do much, so she stopped prescribing them. Edward is entirely disinterested in living, and doesn't care anymore if the others notice.

It gets to the point Pinako can hardly get him out of bed anymore. The old threats of having Alphonse move him have lost their effect, and Pinako often can't bring herself to force him anymore. She knows that isn't good for him, that he needs to be out of bed, for both his mental and physical health. But sometimes, she just can't look at him with a medical eye; he's family to her, and has been since the day he was born. Seeing her own family in such a broken state, both in body and mind, is unbearable sometimes.

Today, however, she can't give in. It's been three days since Ed's gone anywhere but the restroom, and she can't let him continue this routine. She's brought him food, but if she had to guess, he's probably had a combined total of one meal in four days. He's slept a lot of that time, too, falling under periodically when he should be awake. She's nearly weaned him off of his painkillers and anti-inflammatories, which means he should be sleeping less, not more. That leads her to believe the excessive sleeping is another symptom of his depression. If he doesn't get a change in scenery, it'll only make things worse.

Pinako opens the curtain covering the lone window in the room. Afternoon light floods in, and Edward raises his hand to shield his eyes, but otherwise doesn't move.

"We're going out today," she says plainly.

Ed doesn't respond, but she doesn't expect him to. He's said hardly five words to her since this episode started. Instead, he just stares at her, eyes dull and blank and yet somehow filled with pain.

"Your brother and Winry have been asking about you. I'm tired of making excuses." Pinako stands beside the bed. "Come on, Ed. If not for yourself, then do it for us."

Ed just continues staring at her.

Pinako measures her words carefully. She thinks she understands the roots of Ed's depression, but telling him that might make him feel worse. She knows he's stewing over his handicap, yes, but she also knows that's not the bulk of what's eating him up. It's Alphonse. He's buried in guilt over what happened to his little brother, and no amount of words could convince him to dig himself out. "I know you're hurting, and I know it's hard. I know you're upset with it all, and you just want to be alone. But that's no good for you, Ed. You're just going to hurt yourself more the longer you live like this."

Ed takes in her words, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Then maybe I just shouldn't live anymore."

Pinako feels the breath catch in her chest. She wants to scream at him to never say anything like that again, but that's the last thing he needs to hear. So, she says softly, "You don't mean that, Sprout."

He doesn't answer, and even with his heightened emotional state, Pinako can't be sure he didn't mean it. It brings her concern to a whole new level.

In the end, she gets him out of the room for two hours. That's when he finally breaks down and she decides he doesn't need the other kids to see him like that.

…

Alphonse has always understood his older brother doesn't display emotion the same way he does. For as long as he can remember, Edward has been easy to anger and hard to please, while Al has been much the opposite. It's how they've always balanced each other; Al is there to remind Ed when he needs to lighten up, and Ed is there to keep Al from letting others walk all over him.

But now, Al is having a hard time understanding just what to make of his brother's behavior. He's seen Ed upset plenty of times, and even saw something he would describe as similar to what he's seeing now when their mom first died. But even then, it didn't feel like this; for the first month after Mom died, both of them were teary messes, until one day, Ed stopped crying and found a new outlet for his emotions. Al hasn't seen that this time around; this time, it's like Ed's given up entirely.

He's known for a couple weeks that Ed was different, but assumed he'd snap out of it. Now, he's really beginning to worry that assumption was wrong. Ed is not just upset anymore, he's downright despondent. And today, Al is going to talk to him about it.

...If he can figure out how to approach the subject. Some of that aforementioned Older Brother Advice would be helpful right about now.

Alphonse leaves the room he and Ed used to share, heading downstairs. As expected, Edward is still in the same spot he was that afternoon, bangs hanging into his eyes and expression blank. Al approaches slowly, seeing Ed's eyes shift slightly in reaction to his presence.

"Hey, Brother," Al says softly. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about…" Ed doesn't reply, just keeps his gaze trained on Al. Al gives him another moment before speaking again. "I'd really like to talk. And I need to know you're listening."

The older boy still doesn't respond, and Al sighs. Over the past few days, it's gotten harder and harder to converse with Ed. It usually takes some excessive prompting, but Al has learned to be rather stubborn with getting his brother to talk. Edward is no stranger to putting walls over his emotions, but now, they're hiding more than just his negative feelings; they're hiding any emotion at all.

"Ed. I'm getting sick of this. I hate feeling like I'm talking to a wall."

Finally, the walls start to tremble. It seems like no matter how despondent he is, any sort of distress coming from Alphonse still gets through.

Ed shifts his gaze to Al, the dead glaze in his eyes clearing some. He sets his head in his hand. "What."

"Well, it's just…" Al pauses, trying to think of the best way to word this. He wonders if he'd be in a nervous sweat if he still had his body. "There are some things I've noticed lately—" Ed's eyes grow cold. "—and I wanted to ask about them."

"Whatever Granny said, it's not true," Ed replies.

"...What would she have said that's not true?" Al asks.

Ed suddenly looks like he said too much, even if he hardly said a thing. "Nothing," he spits, perhaps a bit too quickly.

Al sighs. "Alright, Ed, then I'm going to just be honest with you. I don't think you're okay."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ed asks angrily, but the glint of fear in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed by Al.

"I mean you're not yourself anymore. I know you're sad about everything that happened, and I am too, but I'm getting worried…"

"I don't need you worrying about me. Worry about yourself."

"Brother, I'm just trying to—"

"I don't need pity!" Ed yells, balling his fist. "I don't need anyone's pity! Least of all from you!"

Shocked by the sudden outburst, Al backs up a step. "B-Brother—"

"I'm perfectly fine, Alphonse!" Ed grabs his hair, looking like he simultaneously wants to explode in anger and burst into tears. "Yes, I am one hundred percent happy with this! I'm happy I made you lose your body! I'm happy I killed Mom! I'm happy I'm a cripple! So just leave. Me. Alone." He takes in a shaky breath, all the fight having been sucked out of him in the blink of an eye. "I don't need you...I don't need to remember what I did."

Al stares at him, entirely torn. He's hurt, more so than he's ever been by his brother's words, but at the same time, he knows Ed would never say anything like that if he was in his right mind. It just confirms Al's fears; something has gone seriously wrong with his big brother. And now he knows it isn't something he can fix with a conversation, either; Edward is pushing Alphonse—his only remaining family—away. And if he's no longer allowed into Ed's thoughts, then there's nothing he can do; Ed himself might be the only one who can fix things now.

This revelation strikes Al like a kick to the gut, and he holds back a whimper. "...Okay. If that's what you need."

He turns to leave, heading back to the stairs. As he makes his way up, he gives one last glance at Edward, his soul freezing at the sight. It looks as if the last bit of light in his brother's eyes has finally gone out. Al looks away, wishing, more than anything, that he could have done something to keep this from happening in the first place.

Ed may think he's the only one who messed up, but now, Al thinks he couldn't be more wrong.

One of the notes my friend/beta left on this chapter was how it never actually occurred to her that there are, y'know, other PEOPLE in resembool, who would be bound to find out about the Elrics. I thought that was interesting, because it was one of the very first ideas I had when I was thinking about this story. Could you imagine trying to figure out how to explain that situation to your neighbors?

See you next chapter!