Welcome to the next chap! In this one, we see how Edo handles his first week with automail. Warnings for graphic illness. Things also get very emotionally intense. I might have cried while writing it...

I also updated the tumblr post with this chapter! I suggest reading this first, though, because there are spoilers in the post.

Enjoy!

(Update 12/25/22 [MERRY CHRISTMAS!: updated chapter with improvements)

(update 9/28/24: mass update!)

Ch 14: Through Hell and Back

When Edward would later rank the most painful experiences in his life, nothing would top having his arm and leg suddenly ripped off his body. Next would be, of course, having his nerves fused into automail. However, the feeling of waking up from automail surgery would be a very, very close third.

It happens slowly, and every moment is more excruciating than the last. When he first starts breaking consciousness, he immediately knows it's bad. It's a deep, incessant, throbbing pain, the kind that demands all of your attention and makes it hard to think about anything else. He wants to move, to get away from the pain, but whatever drugs he's on have turned his muscles into stone, and he can't even open his eyes, much less turn over. He feels like he's literally fighting himself, and as he continues to wake up, he becomes aware of even more awful sensations.

…Like the turning nausea in his stomach.

.. And the burning fever in his entire body.

…And the jolts of electric pain running up and down his spine.

And through it all, his damn muscles still won't obey his orders to move. He tries with all his might, but no matter what he does, nothing happens. What's happening? What's wrong with me?

A sudden high pitched beeping startles him, coming from somewhere just off to his right. Not even ten seconds later, he hears a door open, and the recognizable sound of Granny's footsteps marching up.

She curses, and the beeping stops a moment later. "Edward? You awake?" He can't manage more than a strangled grunt in response, but she gets the message. "Dammit, boy, you're not supposed to be up yet...Paralytic hasn't had time to wear off…" Granny grumbles, and he hears what he can only assume are several syringes clinking against each other in a tray. "You've always got to make things difficult, don't you?" she teases, the edge in her voice lessening.

Ed groans again. Believe me, I wish I wasn't awake.

"Well, I don't want to knock you out again...the sedative will start to wear off in the next hour or so…" Ed is pretty sure she's talking to herself, but he keeps listening anyway. "I thought I'd have until at least morning before you came to...But there's not a whole lot of use in keeping you asleep." Her voice rises, and now he knows she's talking to him. "Hey, Ed, can you move at all?" How does she expect me to answer if I can't? "...I'll take that as a no. The sedative I put you on is specifically used to keep you immobilized. It's supposed to be waning in your system by the time you wake up, but obviously things didn't quite work out that way."

Ed keeps fighting his stupid muscles until he finally pries his eyes half open. "Dumb...hag…" he slurs, nearly unintelligible through a tongue that feels much too big for his mouth. "Poisonin'...me…"

Pinako smirks. "Well, you're the one who decided to be overeager and wake up several hours early." She moves to a machine on his right, which he notices is the same one they were using during surgery. "You must have been panicking. You managed to set off your heart monitor."

Ed attempts to glare at her. Duh.

"Well, it looks like that's nothing we really need to worry about then. But you do look like your fever's higher than earlier." She picks up the thermometer, slipping it into his mouth. "It's not going away anytime soon, but there are still certain temperatures I don't want you to cross." Pinako watches as mercury shifts position and reads the tick mark nearest to its meniscus. She plucks the glass stick out, scowling at the measurement. That can't be right...Pinako opens her mouth to speak, but Ed beats her to it.

"Al?" he mutters once his mouth is free.

Pinako shakes the concerned look from her face before he can see it; it's probably nothing. "I know you want to see your brother, but we've got to keep you isolated a little longer. You can see him in twenty four hours, given your fever goes down some."

"No...he 'kay?"

"He's fine, Edward. He was a little scared yesterday but he knows you're going to be alright." Now that's not quite the whole truth, considering they don't know yet if Edward will be alright—especially with that concerning temperature reading...But there's no point in speaking the alternative into existence.

Ed nods, not seeming to catch this nuance through the haze. "Hot," he declares.

"I bet."

"Hurts."

"I can imagine."

"Hungry."

"Well, I can't help you with that one."

"Wan' Al."

"I just told you, not yet."

"Don' care...gimme."

Pinako rolls her eyes; even drugs can't shirk the kid's dislike of rules. "Just try to rest for a while, silly boy." She adjusts the monitor settings again to account for his consciousness, frowning at a few of the numbers before patting his head and leaving the room.

Ed pouts best he can, but lets his eyes close anyway. However, this brings his attention back to the pain, and he decides maybe it would be best to try and sleep after all.

Not that he'd ever tell her she's right.

That morning, in a half-wakeful state that Edward would later wish was a dream, Alphonse would stop outside the door, voice amused, and say, "So I know I can't come in, but Granny told me you wanted her to 'gimme' to you?" before bursting into laughter. And Edward would silently swear that when those damn immobilizers wore off, he would punch Pinako in the face.

…

The next time Edward wakes, he can move again...not that that's necessarily a good thing. Ed tests out flexing his fingers, wincing as the movement intensifies the pain everywhere else.

There isn't even anything wrong with my arm, why does moving it make everything else feel like it's on fire? Ed lays still for a moment, before narrowing his eyes and working on the monumental task of lifting his arm. It feels way too heavy, and the tendrils of lightning-like pain in his right shoulder begin reaching their way through his entire chest as he moves. He makes note of the heart monitor clamped on his pointer finger, adding a thin wire to the IV line already trailing from his arm. He grits his teeth and forces himself to keep going, until finally his hand snakes its way over and he can feel something hard and chalky on his right shoulder. Huh. That's not metal. It feels like...Ed recalls the only time he ever broke a bone, and the fitted white plaster the doctor had stuck around it. …Like a cast. Confused, Ed forces his hand down to his leg, finding another cast there. Groaning, he turns his head to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of his shoulder. He can see the cast and the array of tubes and wires plugged into him, but no metal.

Ed closes his eyes, the simple movement having entirely exhausted him, as well as heightened the pain. He's not sure how long he lays in silence before the door opens and two pairs of footsteps make their way in.

"Think he's still out?" Winry's voice whispers.

"Probably," Granny's replies. "He gave himself such a scare when he woke up yesterday, I wouldn't be surprised if the stress knocked him out. I upped his morphine too, so even if he were to wake up, he wouldn't understand much."

Fat lot of good that did, he can't help but lament.

The footsteps move closer, and Ed tries his hardest to even out his breathing. He's not sure why, but he doesn't want them to know he's awake just yet.

"You didn't tell him anything, did you? Last night?" Winry asks.

"Of course not. He was barely conscious as it was, I wasn't going to scare him more."

Scare me? Ed takes in a slow breath, trying to calm himself before he can give away his wakefulness. About what?

"I'm worried...his numbers aren't looking great. And when I was cleaning the tubing this morning, his ports looked worse than yesterday…" Despite his eyes being closed, Ed senses Winry move in front of him, feeling a hand on his forehead a moment later—only for it to quickly pull away. "I mean, long lasting fever is expected, but we've never seen one so high."

Granny is quiet for a moment, obviously hesitating voicing her next thought. "...I have."

Winry is quiet for an equally long moment. "Was it…?" she trails off, not wanting to finish the question.

"Yes. Late stage rejection cases."

Ed feels his blood turn to ice. I was not supposed to hear that. Oh God, oh no, that can't be true...she has to be lying. I need this stuff to work. If it doesn't work, I can't save Al! No...no...

"Something's going on with his heart rate," Winry says, concerned.

Pinako looks from the monitor to Ed, and she mentally slaps herself, feeling like an idiot as the realization dawns on her. "Because he's awake, Winry," she says frustratedly, "and he heard that whole conversation."

At that, Ed gives up on his fake sleep, looking up to see a horrified Winry standing in front of him.

"Ed—I—we—" she stutters.

"Was that...true?" Edward asks shakily.

Granny moves into his line of sight beside Winry. "I don't know. But I shouldn't have said anything unless I was sure."

"But you said...you said you've seen this before…" Ed feels his breath quicken and vision blur with panic, even if it's subdued by the fog of fever and medication. "I can't...can't let that happen."

"Sorry, but it's not really about willpower in this case, kiddo."

"No, I can't...Al needs me...come on, stupid body...don't fail on me now!"

"Don't get'cha self worked up, now," Pinako says gently.

"Why...Why…" He hides his eyes with his arm, and the Rockbells can tell they're beginning to lose him to the panic now.

"Ed," Pinako says.

"Can't fail, gotta help him…"

"Ed."

"So stupid...just making it worse…"

"Ed! Snap out of it!"

He startles, wide eyes focusing back on hers. "But it has to work…" he says, voice wavering.

"We've still got time, Sprout, it's not over yet." Pinako and Winry exchange glances, and the old woman nods ever so slightly. Winry moves to Ed's IV, injecting a dose of muscle relaxant to try and calm him down. "You've just to let your body realize everything's okay. Right now, it thinks it's being attacked, so it's just trying to get rid of the attacker. We just have to give it a chance to learn how to live with the automail."

Ed swallows heavily. "But what if it doesn't?"

"...Then we'll have to take it out."

The tears in Ed's eyes spill over. "I can't let that happen...I've gotta make it work...no matter what."

"You have time…" Pinako repeats. "And we'll be here every step of the way. Just go back to sleep for now."

Ed sniffles, nodding slightly. I can do this. I'm not going to give up. Not when he's on the line. He shuts his eyes, willing himself to calm down.

Besides...with his eyes shut, he can't see the lingering worry in Granny and Winry's eyes.

…

Four days after surgery, Edward hasn't shown any signs of improvement. If anything, he's gotten worse.

Each consecutive day of near 103 degree fever has taken a toll, and in the increasingly fewer occasions when Ed is conscious, he's barely lucid. The only times he seems to wake himself up anymore is to spend half an hour intermittently crying and vomiting, and no amount of soothing words can calm him down. He's in such constant agony he can't even tell where it's coming from any longer, and when he talks, it's just a jumbled, back and forth mess of apologies to his little brother and comments on the unbearable pain.

It's taking all of Pinako's willpower not to take him into removal surgery right now. It tears her up seeing him in so much pain, and knowing she's responsible for it...But she always gives her patients a week to accept their automail, as long as they're not on the verge of death. Ed is very sick, moreso than nearly any patient she's had, but he's not dying. So, she has to give him those last two and half days; it's the least she can do when he's already put himself through so much.

And to make matters worse, Alphonse has been beside himself the whole time. Once it became clear just how sick Edward was, the Rockbells decided a no-contact policy was the best thing for him. Breaking the news to Al after having promised he could see his brother 24 hours post-surgery felt like betrayal, but it was necessary. Al understood that, but it didn't mean he wasn't devastated. …Especially when he can hear his older brother's pained cries and incoherent sentences through the door. He hasn't been able to make out any of the conversations, but just Ed's tone of voice, getting more and more mournful each time he wakes, is enough to break Al's soul. Hearing Edward cry makes him want to cry, but his new body won't let him, so there's just a never ending turmoil deep in his being with no way out.

And the Rockbells won't tell him anything! He has no idea what's happening to his brother, apart from some vague "he's not doing great"s, and "we're doing our best"s. Al feels like he's losing his mind being separated from Ed, but he can't risk making his brother any sicker. So, he'll just continue sitting here in the hall, watching Granny and Winry come and go, and trying not to read too much into their tired eyes and the tense set of their jaws.

Speaking of which, the sky outside has grown dark once again, which means it's about time for them to come by one last time before bed. Al turns to look down the hall, just in time to see the two turn the corner wearing grim expressions. They don masks and gloves (something that started a day ago and scared Al even more). He doesn't want to think about it, because then that means thinking about how Ed is getting worse, and he still can't see him, and what if he doesn't get better, and what if he can't keep his automail, and what if he gets so sick he di—No. He can't think like that. He can't even entertain the thought of losing his brother, of being the only one left…

Winry offers him a much too tired smile that doesn't reach her eyes before she pulls her mask over her nose. Then, Pinako opens the door and the two slip back into the center of all their worries.

Ed is currently in a fitful sleep, head tossing and turning and hand clawing at his blanket. The whole room has a stifling air of sickness, and it can't possibly be helping the condition of the boy in the bed. His sheets have turned tacky with sweat, clinging to his frame with every movement. Pinako looks over Ed's monitors, disheartened at the lack of improvement, while Winry readies their antiseptics and fresh bandages. His blood pressure is down, heart rate up, and any more medicine going into his body than they're already giving would destroy his liver or kidneys. It hasn't even begun to help his immune system.

A sharp gasp grabs their attention, and they focus back on Ed, whose thrashing movements have intensified. He can't move much with the bulky casts (and the single restraint they put on his stump leg last night after he kicked it so violently the cast came loose). But, anything he can move is caught in a twitchy cycle, his face scrunched in a mix of pain and fear. Pinako doesn't even want to know what kind of fever dreams he's been having, if the increasingly distressed sounds he's made are any indication. Sleep is essential for healing, but when the sleep is so terrifying, it makes her feel guilty leaving him stuck in it.

At least right now she has an excuse to wake him up; they need to clean the surgical sites again, and they can't do that when he's moving so much. Pinako gently shakes Ed's good shoulder, talking softly until he pulls himself out of whatever hellish nightmare he's having. The moment his sunken eyes open, his face somehow pales even further, and Winry quickly pulls him upright before he starts throwing up. Over the past day, he's begun vomiting blood alongside the meager contents of his stomach, and they're getting extremely concerned by it. His stomach and throat have been abused too much over the past week, and the constant upheaval of acid has turned them into raw wounds.

"I'm sorry, Sprout, but we had to wake you," Pinako says, rubbing his back until his stomach settles down. She wipes a rag over his red-stained lips, trying to ignore the unnerving amount of blood in the bucket. "It's time for your treatment."

Ed looks at her, eyes glassy and unfocused, offering a small nod. Honestly, it's amazing he can still understand anything she says with how sick he is. Prolonged fever of this temperature can cause brain damage. Pinako turns him slightly so she can get to his shoulder, a sense of dread building as she unplugs the tubing and pulls off the plaster cast. She so desperately hopes it'll be better than last time, but realistically, she knows the chances of that are slim. And, when she peels off the tape holding his bandages in place, she's proven correct.

It looks just as bad as it did this afternoon. His skin is still an angry red, swollen and puffy everywhere there's an incision. The worst is around the metal ring bolted to his shoulder and the three nerve outlets; it looks like his body is actively trying to push the metal out and has degenerated from simply a feverish red to a sickly yellow and purple, sure signs of infection. Much longer, and the tissue will start dying if it doesn't either accept the metal or get rid of it altogether. She moves to his leg while Winry starts disinfecting the tubing. His leg doesn't look any better than his shoulder, hot to the touch and swollen. Pinako looks back at Ed's questioning expression, and she purses her lips, not wanting to tell him but knowing she has to.

"I'm sorry, Ed…" she says. His eyes immediately well with heartbroken tears, and he looks down, crying softly.

That's it, it's all over, I'm done for. All this pain, for nothing in return. How is this an equivalent exchange? It's just not fair…

"You've still got two days, it's not the end yet," Pinako says, trying to convince herself just as much as Edward. She glances at Winry, who also has a steady stream of tears trailing down her face.

"But it's getting worse," Ed cries. "I can tell...I can feel it...It's like it's tearing up my insides." A trembling hand finds its way to his stomach, and he folds over, clutching it. "I just want it to stop...but I have to keep trying. I have to. It hurts so much, Granny...But I can't give up...I have to get better…"

"Edward…"

"Why?" Ed's voice breaks on the word, on the verge of losing it entirely. With every crack in his voice, she's reminded of how painfully young he is. "Why is this happening to me? Didn't I already sacrifice enough? Or am I too far gone? Is there nothing I can do to make up for my mistakes? Why is the world so cruel?" The words are tumbling out against his will now, rising into an anguished scream and mixed up in the pain and fatigue and tears. He's just so frustrated and scared, and he can't contain his feelings anymore. "I didn't mean to do anything bad, I just wanted my mom again! I paid the price for it! I'm trying to fix it! Why can't I just have this? Why can't I fix him? Why isn't it enough?!"

A choked sob echoes from Winry's direction, and Pinako sees her granddaughter on the floor, head buried in her knees. The grandmother guides the eleven-year-old out of the room, feeling for once that her emotions are more important than her medical training. And for the first time in a long time, the old woman holds back her own tears as she returns to her patient's bedside.

"Please, Granny...please help me…" Ed whimpers, his voice entirely broken. "I'm so tired of life being so unfair…"

"I will, Ed. As much as I possibly can." Pinako picks up the antiseptics Winry dropped, disinfecting Ed's shoulder and leg with newfound ferocity. He's going to make it through this, no matter what.

Pinako finishes redressing Ed's ports, but another day passes and he's still as sick as before, still sobbing out of pure sorrow, still burning with fever, and still puking up blood. He only has about twelve hours left until the one-week-cutoff, and even through his incoherent words and cries, she knows he understands his time is up. She thoroughly cleans out the infected areas one last time before moving to his left and locking her hand with his, applying reassuring pressure. His world, his hopes, his conviction—it's all come crashing down for the second time in less than three months, and she can't help but agree with him. It's not fair. Yet, there's no comfort she can offer him.

For a moment, her mind wanders to what this will mean for her practice. She knew it was risky to do surgery on an eleven-year-old, but she did it anyway. Maybe it was pride, the idea of praise for getting such a young boy back on his feet. She has no idea how many customers she'll lose because of this...But as quickly as the thought of repercussions enters, it's pushed aside by the suffering surrogate grandson in her care. How can she even think about her own business when Edward is the one paying the price?

So she just holds his hand as he sobs until, an hour later, he's finally exhausted himself back into a feverish sleep. Pinako looks at his miserable, tear-stained face, finding herself praying to whatever God might be out there. She's not sure who or what might be listening, but if there's any mercy in the universe, she can't think of anyone more deserving of some than Edward Elric.

…

On the morning of day seven, just when all hope was nearly lost, Edward's fever finally breaks.

It had been six straight days of fever, infection, and spirits so low Pinako was really beginning to worry what Edward would do when he inevitably had to have his new automail removed. His reason for going on would be gone, and they might just lose him forever. She'd been terrified, and Winry had been terrified, and they'd just elected to break the news to Alphonse when Pinako decides she'll give Ed one more look before it's finalized.

She's so happy she does.

The moment she opens the door, she knows something's different. Ed is asleep, but rather than the writhing, unpleasant sleep he'd been suffering from, he's still and breathing softly, expression entirely slack. She hurries over to him, noting his sweat-soaked clothes and bedding, and puts a hand to his forehead; he's still hot, but nowhere near the deathly level of earlier. A grin spreads across her face.

Pinako calls for Winry and the girl rushes in, expecting the worst, tears already poised in her eyes. When she sees Ed, the tears spill over—only in joy rather than the despair she'd anticipated.

Ed shifts at the sound, eyes blinking open to reveal clear gold irises once again. "Win...why...crying?" he mumbles sleepily, brows furrowing in confusion before a solemn look spreads across his features. "Oh...it's been a week…" He closes his eyes, letting out a mournful sigh.

"No, Ed…" Winry sniffles. "That's not why I'm crying."

He looks back at her. "It's not?"

Pinako can't hold it back anymore, a boisterous laugh escaping her. "Honestly, boy, did you not notice?"

"Notice…" Ed trails off, eyes widening. "I feel...I feel better," he declares, the realization being the furthest thing from what he'd expected.

Pinako laughs again. "Sit up, I want to get a look at your ports."

Ed does, finding that despite the waves of pain still radiating from his shoulder and leg, he's no longer nauseous or mentally foggy (aside from the usual loopiness he's come to associate with painkillers). But just to be sure..."It still hurts," he confides, a slight edge of nervousness working its way into his voice.

"Well, of course it still hurts, you just had a major surgery," Pinako says lightly, instantly relieving Ed's worries. He relaxes as she pulls off his cast, the old woman nodding at Winry to do his leg.

A wave of giddy relief comes over both Rockbells as they inspect the ports. His skin is still red and inflamed, but the yellowish infection around the metal has disappeared. Winry and Pinako carefully scrutinize every incision, every bolt, every suture, just to be certain he's free of sickness.

Ed watches their faces intently, trying to peer over his shoulder to see for himself. "Granny? Why're you looking at it like that? Is it bad?"

Pinako checks the last stitches, meeting his worried gaze with a big grin. "Nope. You did it, Edward."

"I...did?" He holds his breath, not wanting to believe it until she confirms.

"You're stable," she finishes.

Ed blinks. "I get to have automail?" Is it true? Do I really have a chance to get Al's body back now?

"What did I just say?" Pinako laughs.

Ed's gaze snaps to the door. "Al! Al!" He briefly looks back at Pinako. "Can he come in?" The grandmother nods, and Ed resumes yelling for his brother.

A series of metallic bangs come rushing down the hall, the door flying open with enough force to smack the wall. Al's helmet swivels frantically as he surveys the room, clearly imagining every worst case scenario. Instead, he sees Granny and Winry grinning widely and Edward sitting with an exhausted yet confident smirk, tired eyes alight with hope.

"Hey, Al," he says. "Long time no see, huh?"

Al stands in shock for a moment before rushing forward, falling to his knees at Ed's bedside. "Brother!" he cries, voice filled with a mix of relief and raw emotion that Ed has no doubt would be laden with tears if the armor had the ability to shed them. "I was so worried...I thought...I didn't know if you'd make it...Granny and Winry said you were really sick, and you weren't getting better, and I was so scared…"

Ed laughs weakly. "Sorry for scaring you…"

Al looks up at his brother, and despite his inability to show emotion, Ed swears his red eyes are glowing brighter than usual. "So...you're okay?"

"I will be," Ed replies, grinning. "I'm not gonna lie, Al, at the end there, even I didn't think I'd make it. That was a week of absolute hell…" Ed reaches out, patting Al's head the same way he'd done for years. "But you know what? I'd go through it all over again for you, little brother."

CHEESY ENDING IS CHEESY!

Anyway there are 2 reasons I put Ed through this:

1: there's that line in the manga when Winry is telling Al what Ed was so scared to say (following the lab five incident) and she says he cried himself to sleep every night from the pain and fever caused by surgery, and I was like "ooooh yesss canonical sufferinggg" but then I thought more about it and decided there had to be a reason he was so sick. Answer: he almost didn't get to keep his automail.

2: what's fanfiction without making characters suffer? I love getting them right up to the edge of worst case scenario before they pull through haha. I did the same thing to Hiccup in HTBaF lol.

See you all next chapter!