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“I’m sorry, Major… um, Mister- Fullmetal Alchemist, sir. But the internal wiring of your automail leg got damaged during the fight. Until you can get it repaired by your mechanic, it has to be detached as not to injure you further.”
Ed could only stare at the nervous doctor in front of him. The man – Dr. Jansen – was fiddling with his clipboard, his nervous gaze never once meeting Edward’s eyes. Instead, Ed could see him flinch whenever Alphonse moved behind him, discomfort and fear making the man look stupid.
“What do you mean you have to detach it?”
Ed really, really hoped he had misunderstood the doctor’s words. There was no way he would take off his leg! It was perfectly- well, okay, it hurt terribly to walk on it, sparks of electricity racing down nerve endings Ed no longer had every time he stepped on it, but… Ed’s eyes wandered down to the offending piece of metal.
A giant dent decorated the front casing of his artificial shin, deep scratches showing the internal workings of Granny’s masterpiece. The rogue alchemist Ed had been sent to catch had been very fond of throwing big rocks at State Alchemists just trying to do their job. Theoretically Ed couldn’t even complain – besides the leg, Ed and Al managed to subdue the guy without anyone getting hurt.
If medical checkups following a mission weren’t required, Ed would have ignored the burning pain in his stump until he had a good reason to visit Winry and get it fixed. But this? No, Ed wouldn’t just take off his leg because of a bit of discomfort.
“Um, Mister Alchemist, you risk permanent injury to your… well, to the rest of your leg if you continue to walk on this. The wiring needs to be completely re-done. I’m not an automail mechanic, but even I can see the burns at the port from the destroyed connection. It’s simply… unsafe.”
Ed hated military doctors. They never knew how to talk to him, caught somewhere between his official rank and his age. Ed knew he was small for a thirteen-year-old boy, but the way they looked at him one could have thought they were dealing with a literal baby. He was a State Alchemist, for fuck’s sake! He knew what he was doing!
Ed was ready to tell Dr. Jansen just that when a hand was gently placed on his shoulder.
Alphonse.
Ed turned to look at his little brother, the giant armor unreadable.
“Thank you for your assessment, Dr. Jansen. My brother will detach his leg in a second. Can you write us an official request for medical leave? And maybe find a crutch suited to Brother’s height?”
It was a dismissal if Ed had ever heard one, the doctor losing what little color he had left when Al addressed him directly. Nobody looked at a giant armor and thought “oh, that must be a boy of eleven, almost twelve, years of age” and yet it was the truth – sometimes Ed thought it was a bit unfair that his little brother got respect from adults so easily, and yet Ed had to fight for every shred of recognition anyone was willing to offer him.
Then again, Ed wasn’t cruel enough to believe Al had gotten the better end of the stick.
Dr. Jansen hurried from the room, probably frantically searching for a crutch short enough to fit Ed (and no, Ed wasn’t small, he just hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet). Ed knew what would follow, already unhappy before Al had opened his non-existent mouth.
“I won’t do it.”
“Yes, you will. Brother, it is hurting you! I can see it! He can see it! Just take off the stupid leg and then we can visit back home and get it fixed, no harm done.”
“Stupid leg? That’s my fucking automail! I hate using crutches! You know that!”
For a second, Ed thought he’d won, Al reeling back at the mention of Ed’s missing limbs. Yes, Ed felt horribly guilty for what he had done to Al, but he knew his little brother harbored just as many ugly thoughts about the arm and leg Ed should have but didn’t anymore. It was a dirty trick to use Al’s discomfort with Ed’s body against him, but right now Ed wasn’t above fighting dirty.
Not that he succeeded.
Al recovered quickly. “The sooner you accept that it has to get fixed, the sooner you’re back on your feet. What if you injure yourself permanently and then you can never use automail again?”
Ed hated it when Al was right.
(it certainly wasn’t Winry’s disappointed frown haunting him that forced him to comply)
Growling, Ed leaned forward, detaching his leg one latch at a time. It was a painful process, fiddly and more complicated than people typically thought, but Ed knew Al couldn’t help him – he didn’t have the fine motor skills to reach the small parts, something that was already hard enough with Ed’s automail hand. Leather gauntlets only animated by a soul tethered to an iron armor? Yeah, Ed rather did it on his own.
Once unlatched, Ed placed the broken prosthetic on the examination table next to him. He tried not to look at it. It was fine when he wore it, the automail a part of his body, a part of him, but once it was no longer attached to what was left of his left leg, it suddenly transformed into something foreign. Something other.
It reminded Ed of the ways in which he was different.
He didn’t like it, people already stared at him enough.
Al was silent, well aware of Ed’s moods, as Ed reached out to shimmy back into his clothes. The leg had been his only injury, there was no reason Ed had to continue sitting on the metal table in nothing but his boxer shorts. Plus, more clothes and more layers meant less opportunity for people to stare. His left pant leg hung empty over the edge of the table, the leather heavy enough to keep it from swaying too much.
“Brother-“
“No.”
“Ed… it’s much less noticeable if you tie your pant leg up. What if you stumble? You’d be terribly embarrassed.”
Ed sent a glare in Al’s direction, shame turning his cheeks a bright red. He hated, hated, hated Al talking about it like that – and yet, he hated even more that his little brother was right. While Ed thought it was easier to overlook the missing leg if he kept his pants long, it was both a tripping hazard and a sign permitting people to stare at him in order to figure out what was wrong.
With a curse and a frown, Ed clapped his hands together before transmuting his leather pants closed a hand width away from the actual edge of his stump. He threw the extra fabric at Al’s head, his brother catching it before storing it in his armor. Once he had his leg back, Ed could just reconnect the two pieces and move on with his life.
The door of the examination room opened, Dr. Jansen stepping through, a very small crutch clutched in his hands. How the guy had grown up to be a military doctor, Ed had no idea, his nervous habits certainly making him unfit for duty.
“Ah, so you got dressed again. Very good, yes, yes. Um, here is the crutch – it was the smallest we had in storage. I hope it… yeah, um… here is the medical leave request and my official report for your personal file. You-“
Dr. Jansen was obviously trying to avoid Ed’s face, his gaze trained to the door as if he was wondering when he could finally leave – run out of the room and escape the oppressive silence of an empty suit of armor and a teenager who outranked him.
“Yes?”
“Um, you’ll have to take this directly to your commanding officer. You need his signature before your leave is legally binding – so, hm, don’t leave the military compound before that happened, yes?”
“I have to talk to Colonel Bastard before I can get my leg fixed? What the fuck? The bastard is gonna be so smug when I hobble in there… fucking dammit.”
His anger only made Dr. Jansen more uncomfortable, and Edward tried his best to swallow down the rage. Some random doctor didn’t deserve his ire, even if it felt like it. No, it was that random alchemist’s fault – and Mustang’s since he was the idiot who’d assigned Ed the case.
With renewed vigor, Ed leaped off the table, forgetting his missing leg for just a second. Overbalancing due to that it was only Al’s quick reflexes saving him from landing face first on the floor. Dammit, dammit, dammit. This sucked ass – Ed just hoped the embarrassed blush on his face as he ripped the crutch out of the doctor’s limp wristed grasp read as anger and not as shame.
It was time to get this over with – Ed was already sick of the way it made him feel.
Roy Mustang knew Edward Elric was back in East City.
He’d known from the moment the boy arrived at the train station, his intelligence network informing him immediately. Nothing concerning had been mentioned to him in the report, so by now Roy was waiting for his subordinate’s dramatic entrance, the protocols Riza wanted him to sign forgotten next to him on his desk. Edward only graced them with his presence every couple of weeks, the boy and his armored brother traveling through the entire East Area with a focus Roy almost envied. Not even during his own studies had Roy ever been that invested in alchemical theory, and he had been considered a prodigy in the field – hell, until Edward came along, Roy had been the youngest State Alchemist in Amestris’ history.
Almost eleven months after Ed’s placement under his command, and Roy had come to appreciate the quiet efficiency keeping his officers focused when Edward was away. And he had come to look forward to the dramatic and loud hours following Edward’s return.
Not even Riza could be mad at him when he failed to do his work while Edward yelled about something inane and the seven-foot armor behind him tried to stop him from transmuting weapons out of Roy’s couch table. Every member of his team was just as ineffective in their anticipation – after the week they’ve just had, they could all use some levity in the form of Edward.
(Breda’s intelligence had smoked out the last high-ranking members of the Eastern Liberation Front and Riza and he had publicly taken care of it – it always left a stale taste on their tongues when they killed those who might have been allies in a different world)
Roy didn’t have to wait long – the door to the main office was pushed open, the thrust lacking some of its usual force. Through the open doorway leading into his own private office, Roy could see that the heavy metal doorknob had only indented the wall slightly.
Edward was off his game tonight.
Roy only noticed why when the bright chatter between Havoc and Fuery fell silent, a heavy blanket of discomfort drowning out the sound of easy comradery. His eyes trailed over Edward, noticing the angry frown and fierce blush, before wandering over the tacky red coat, black shirt and… leather pants. Ah. Ed’s left leg ended a few inches above the knee, a crutch under his right arm helping him walk.
Al hovered behind Edward’s shoulder, clearly already anticipating an explosion.
Roy had to defuse the situation somehow, but how did one deal with an angry teenager in a vulnerable position? Roy had never been great at dealing with injured people, disabilities something he hadn’t encountered often until his time in Ishval. And even then, the military didn’t employ that many people with automail since it was expensive to upkeep and a potential liability on missions to boot.
Usually, people who lost limbs while in the line of duty got honorably discharged and were outfitted with a veteran’s benefits and some subpar automail if they wanted it.
Edward was a special case.
“You’re late, Fullmetal.” Roy said, his voice echoing through the silence like a sledgehammer in an empty apartment. A verdict had been made – Roy would simply act as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Just another normal day in the office, and not a painful reminder that Edward had lost a lot for a boy his age.
“Your fucking shitty military doctor, bastard, wouldn’t let me go until I took off my leg.”
The anger was rolling off Edward in waves, his movements jerky when he stepped deeper into the room. Falman flinched back almost instinctively – not because Ed’s disability startled him, but because Falman had superior self-preservation instincts and knew when to move out of the path of a predator. Breda moved a chair out of the way before Edward could trip, and the only thanks he got from the angry Fullmetal was a snarl.
“Brother is being dramatic, Colonel Mustang. Dr. Jansen made an informed medical decision. We’re just here to get your signature on the leave request so we can take a train to Resembool and get Brother’s leg fixed.”
Alphonse followed Edward closely, his voice haunted by the metallic emptiness of his armor, his arms raised in a perpetual apology. If he could smile, Roy was sure of it, Alphonse would grace them all with the most apologetic twist of his lips humanly possible.
“God, I’m not being dramatic! That guy is a twat!”
Edward had almost reached the door to Roy’s office, Riza stepping out of his path with a frown, Ed’s red coat flaring out as if to underline his anger. Something else was wrong that much was obvious, but Roy wasn’t really in the position to ask.
“Oh? And how did you come to that brilliant conclusion, Fullmetal? With that medical degree you went to university for? Or the automail apprenticeship you successfully completed before joining the military?”
Both Havoc and Fuery turned to look at him in alarm, but Edward barely flinched at Roy’s mocking words. Roy had said worse things to the boy, and that realization left a stale taste at the back of his throat. Maybe after he got home later tonight, Roy would indulge in the good whiskey Meas had gifted him for his birthday.
“A real comedian, asshat. Sign that fucking slip of paper and then I’m out of your hair. Just be glad I caught that asshole you sent me after – if I’m not here who’s supposed to do your dirty work, after all.”
While it was certainly true that Edward did take care of a lot of the problems Roy couldn’t solve any other way, he would never tell the boy that the real dirty work was handled by Riza and her trusted sniper riffle. There were some things not even a dog of the military needed to know.
Edward threw the piece of paper onto his desk, the both of them watching as it failed to come to a rest on the worn-down oak surface, instead gliding down onto the floor as if to mock Edward and his missing leg.
“Fucking piece of shit-“
“Calm down, Fullmetal. This is still a military office, and I expect you to behave accordingly to proper military conduct.”
Edward’s only answer was another glare, Roy glad when Al stepped in to pick up the medical leave form from the off-green carpet. Maybe one day Ed would be grateful for what Roy was doing right now – Roy certainly hoped so. He just wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do when his usually overconfident subordinate suddenly lacked the strength to hide behind anything but anger.
“Sir, it would be very nice if you could stop needling my brother.”
Always Watching Alphonse looked at Roy with a mild tilt of disapproval to his voice.
“I don’t need your help, Al!”
Ed ripped the paper from Al’s giant hands, a thump echoing down the room when Edward slapped it on Roy’s desk once more.
The tension was so thick, you’d need one of Havoc’s hunting knives to cut it.
“I want to hear you say please, Fullmetal, and then I’ll sign it.”
Roy met Edward’s burning eyes, and he didn’t know why he did it but he couldn’t stop. Maybe if he made Edward explode, what followed the destruction would be fertile ground for something healthy to grow, new understanding being born from the ashes of their suffering.
Of maybe his subordinate would simply leave his office hating him.
It wasn’t as if Roy didn’t deserve it.
“Please, you utter fucking asshat, sign my medical leave so I can get my leg repaired and do my fucking job. The job you pay me for. The job that almost exclusively consists of cleaning up your messes. You know, instead of doing the research you promised me we’d be able to conduct.”
“Now,” Roy said smiling, his name neatly signed on the dotted line at the bottom of the paper, “that wasn’t all that difficult, was it?”
“I will-“ Edward’s enraged whisper was loud enough for Riza to finally step in.
“Sir. You have other paperwork to complete.”
A lifesaver.
She’d probably realized that Roy wasn’t able to stop anymore, the path forward destructive and harmful and only headed towards an inevitable crash. Roy nodded his thanks, waving Edward and Alphonse out of his room as if that had always been the plan.
“You heard the woman, Fullmetal. If you hurry, you might still catch the late-night train to South City. Use your watch to make them stop in Resembool. I want to see you back in my office in a week.”
“What is wrong with you!” Edward was shaking, his rage so strong.
Maybe the anger helped with the shame – Roy wouldn’t understand. The only medicine against his guilt he’d ever found was alcohol, and he really hoped Ed wasn’t headed down the same path as him, just because of a human transmutation and some unforgivable sin.
“We’re heading out now, Sir. Thank you for your time. Lieutenant Hawkeye, always a pleasure.”
Roy had never heard Alphonse sound this mad before, not even his natural politeness able to cover up his real feelings. He thought Roy had made a mistake – judging by the deafening silence coming from his team, he probably wasn’t the only one.
Roy knew the last thing Edward needed right now was pity, and unfortunately for the boy Roy had never learned how to comfort someone who wasn’t Hawkeye. And Riza only needed his shoulder to rage against, and his steady hands to take away her gun. She didn’t need… well, Roy wasn’t sure what Edward needed. Reassurance maybe?
But for what?
A crime they both knew he’d committed? An intellect they both knew he had? A disability that Roy had always been aware off?
Just to drive home his point, Roy waved as Edward and Alphonse stepped out of his office, the “Dismissed” falling easily from his lips, even as Edward pulled the door closed behind him with a thundering bang.
Silence reigned over his team in the absence of the Elric brothers, Roy watching all of them to see who would break first.
Surprisingly enough, it was Riza.
“Was that really necessary, sir?”
“He was uncomfortable because of all the staring. Now he’s angry enough at me to not even notice anyone looking at him.”
“But, sir…” Fuery started. “He’s a kid with an amputated leg. He might need help getting home. For all we know, he could be in pain.”
“If he were in pain, Fullmetal would have gone silent. When he’s angry, it’s because he’s embarrassed. And don’t be fooled, Fuery, that kid can still kick your ass even one leg down. He’s a human weapon, never forget that.”
Never forget that I am one as well, Roy thought but never said. Havoc and Breda heard it anyways, Riza unable to ever forget this truth.
“But still, boss, not to step on any toes, but that was some shitty behavior.”
“Maybe.” Roy refused to feel bad, he had other things to feel guilty for. “Which is why you, Havoc, just volunteered to drive Fullmetal and his brother to the train station so they’ll actually catch that South City Express.”
Havoc looked at him, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, inquiring if Roy was mocking him. Twenty seconds of close scrutiny from a man who described himself as simple in the worst error of judgement Roy had ever encountered in his almost ten years with the military, and Havoc nodded.
“Sure thing, boss.”
And then he was gone.
It was a long minute until the office returned to work, the silence still thick enough to stifle any attempt at levity.
“Can you believe that fucking Colonel?”
Edward snarled as they made their way down the long corridors of Eastern Command. He was seething, anger burning hot through his veins. The urge to punch something was a strong one, but his automail arm was busy holding the crutch, and his flesh fist was prone to breaking. Sweat tickled down his back, surely the adrenaline of his encounter with Mustang to blame and not the exertion of using the crutch.
“That was very rude of him, Brother.”
Al sounded put out, and Ed found vindication in his brother’s annoyance. So, it hadn’t just been in his head – he had a reason to feel like this! He wasn’t being overly sensitive.
It was weird, Ed could admit that much. It didn’t make any sense for him to feel this vulnerable just because he was down one leg. Both his arms were still perfectly alright – should they be attacked, he could still defend himself. Hell, back when he first prepared for surgery Winry had even shown him a handful of tricks for how to use a crutch to hurt someone.
And yet…
Maybe it was because back then, Ed had been working towards a goal. Automail surgery, grueling PT and rehabilitation, and then the military. His body was a tool to get Al’s real body back. It didn’t matter that Ed had a lot of scars or that two of his limbs were made out of metal. Every ounce of pain was worth it.
And all of that was still true!
But… this was the first time since Winry and Granny had connected the leg to his stump fourteen months ago, that Ed was not fully functional. Without the crutch he would be… not helpless, but vulnerable. He could hop along the wall, using the structure to guide him, and he could crawl along the floor, his arms strong and healthy enough to pull him forward… but he couldn’t run. He couldn’t even walk.
And for once he wasn’t working towards anything. This hadn’t happened in an effort to save Al – no, this had been some stupid idiot that didn’t even matter. Maybe Ed would be okay with being stared at, with being seen as inferior and weak, if this was a necessary step in their journey towards a brighter future.
His body was a tool, a weapon, after all and right now Ed couldn’t even use it.
Instead, there was nothing where his leg was supposed to be, and Ed couldn’t ignore it, no matter what. He was a whole lot happier when he could pretend the transmutation hadn’t cost him half his body either, the pain on rainy days and the muscle aches that seeped into his bones because of the automail a small price to pay for a body that appeared functional on the outside.
“That stupid bastard. Who does he think he is? Some king! No, newsflash! Shitty Colonel and his shitty ass assignments! Just you wait, Mustang, as if I’m ever gonna do your job for you again.”
The ranting made some of the pressure on his chest easier to breathe through. Anger, at least, was safe. It probably wasn’t healthy, Al always tilting his helmet in disappointment when Ed mentioned it, but at least Ed could push some of the nightmares down by staying furious at the world that had hurt them.
They rounded a corner, the empty hallway morphing into a large staircase.
Ah, shit.
Of course, Ed had known that he would have to descent them again, when they first entered the command building to go talk to Mustang, his right leg complaining a lot about his slow rise up the stairs back then. But suddenly Ed remembered a lot of bruises not even two years old, when he first learned how to use his automail leg and he repeatedly fell down Granny’s staircase. Going down was so much harder with just one leg than going up.
“Brother…” Of course, Alphonse had noticed his hesitation. “I can help you, if you-“
“No. I’m fine. I can do this. This is nothing!”
To say Ed was bad at accepting help would be an understatement.
He carefully gripped the railing on the left wall and placed his crutch on the first step before carefully jumping down the small distance. Nothing happened. Or at least, nothing bad happened. He was simply down the first of fifty-odd steps. He hadn’t even lost his balance for a second, his body remembering hours of grueling mobility training back when he first learned how to deal with his loss of limb.
Al followed him closely, Ed not really interested in talking as he concentrated on getting to the ground floor in one piece, his pride still intact. He did, however, send one pointed “I told you so” glare in his brother’s direction, which Al answered with a deep sigh of long suffering.
He was almost at the bottom – maybe ten stairs still separating him from the blessed tile floor of the entrance hall – when a loud voice startled him just as he leaned forward to jump down another step.
“Alphonse! Chief! Wait!”
Ed turned around to look at a breathless Havoc appearing at the top of the stairs, his foot slipping, his balance lost. At first Ed didn’t even really realize what was happening, Havoc’s shocked face clueing him in a fraction of a second before gravity took hold, and Ed crashed down the last couple of steps.
His head made a rather unpleasant acquaintanceship with the railing on his way down, his nose bleeding after crashing against one of the stone stairs. When he finally came to a rest, Alphonse’s shocked “Brother!” still ringing in his ears, everything hurt.
His head throbbed, a knot already forming above his right brow, his arm smarting from the impact. Ed had instinctively tried to protect his most vulnerable parts, and now he wasn’t badly injured, but utterly humiliated.
The upper levels of Eastern Command had been empty, but the same couldn’t be said about the great entrance hall. At least a dozen soldiers hurrying somewhere had stopped in their tracks just to stare at him. Edward and his bloody nose. Edward and his missing leg.
If he weren’t aware that screaming in unadulterated rage would only make everything worse, Ed would completely lose it.
Sometimes the world was just utterly unfair, and right now it hated him more than usual.
His brother’s clanking steps echoed down the staircase, closely followed by the very human sound of Havoc apologizing profoundly.
“Oh my god, I didn’t mean… I am so sorry, Chief. Are you alright? Can you get up? Oh, please be okay. I didn’t mean-“
“Brother! Are you okay!”
Alphonse reached him first, his hands inches away from Ed’s shoulders when he flinched away. Ed could see the hurt in his brother’s soul-fire eyes, even as his metal face gave away nothing. And yet, Ed couldn’t – wouldn’t maybe – stop himself from whispering “Please, don’t touch me”. It was the only thing he could say to keep himself from crying.
And Alphonse didn’t, hovering next to him caught somewhere between despair and hurt.
Havoc joined their heavy silence, Ed’s crutch carefully cradled in his hands. In stark contrast to the doctor, he didn’t look afraid – there was no hesitation when he looked at Ed, no pity or fear or nervousness haunting his movements.
“Chief… are you okay? I really didn’t mean to startle you! I just thought… I wanted to offer a ride to East City Central Station. So you can catch that train, you see.”
Havoc’s voice was tinged in a familiar eastern accent, the swallowing of letters comforting in its homeliness.
“I’m fine.” Ed said, wiping away the blood dripping down his chin with the sleave of his coat. He had to be fine. What else was he supposed to do? Cry? Not when Al didn’t have a body, not when the pain he currently felt was a privilege Al wasn’t privy to.
“Do you want me to help you up?”
Havoc hadn’t reached out to him yet, only Ed’s crutch breaching his personal bubble. Ed was unbelievably grateful for it – there was something deeply humiliating and shameful about people encroaching on his personal space to offer him help. It was worse than the stares, and it made Ed want to shower, wash their unwanted advances away.
It hurt, especially since Ed knew Al never once did it in an effort to make Ed uncomfortable. His little brother didn’t really remember what touch felt like (and if Ed ever wanted to forget something, it was this late-night admission from Al), so how should he know how violating it was to touch Ed when he was so clearly in need of help. Hell, no one ever offered Al the comfort of a helping hand – Al was probably just doing what he really wished others would do for him.
And yet… Havoc’s question eased more tension from Ed’s shoulders than Al’s hovering and loving hands.
“It’s fine. Give me that crutch.”
And Havoc did.
It took a couple of tries, the staring passersby finally moving on when Alphonse yelled at them, but Ed managed to get back on his feet, the shame a companion he knew he’d never lose. He was the Fullmetal Alchemist – he should be proud and independent and strong. Why did a little injury like this, something that hadn’t even hurt him directly, make him feel so horribly weak?
It wasn’t even as if Ed had been previously unaware of that he had a disability!
Ah.
There it was, the word Ed never allowed himself to think. He had lost his limbs, he was missing an arm and a leg, he used automail and had prosthetics… but never once did he utter the offending word. Disability. But that’s what it was, right?
Ed closed his eyes to keep himself from crying, Al’s silent worry a stifling force.
No, he wouldn’t-
They had a train to catch.
“Yeah, Havoc… it’d be great if you could drive us. We lost some time because of this little display, didn’t we?”
Ed didn’t look either of them in the eyes as he hobbled past them out of the building.
On a logical level Jean had always known that Edward Elric had automail. It was his freaking name, for god’s sake. Fullmetal Alchemist, named such for his two metal limbs and his affinity for earth-based alchemy.
And yet… when Edward first appeared in the doorway of their office, dwarfed by his brother’s giant frame, Jean had been completely stumped by the realization that his left leg was gone. When the Colonel had made a mess out of the whole situation – on purpose, no less – Jean had slowly gotten his bearings back, the truth of the matter finally reaching his head as well as his heart.
It didn’t matter, at least not in the way’s that most people thought it did.
Now, in a cramped military vehicle, a stony silence slowly swallowing the two brothers on their way to East City Central Station, Jean knew he had to do something. He held no power over these kids – hell, Edward outranked him quite noticeably, and Alphonse was a civilian neither of them had any sway over. He wasn’t their guardian or friend or commanding officer. If anything, all he could offer was the companionship of a fellow soldier. One who had spent a few more years on this earth, a touch of wisdom raining down on Havoc every now and then.
“You know, chief, I don’t think I’ve ever told you about my Nana.”
“What about her?”
Edward’s answer was barely more than a mumble, his eyes focused on the blurry grey streets of East City. Nothing like the healthy green of the countryside – Jean still missed his mother’s general store and the soft green hills of his hometown, even if it had been years and he knew he would never go back. Not until the military send him back in a coffin, but these thoughts weren’t appropriate in the presence of children.
“She was the first women in all of East Area to join the army. General Eustacia Armstrong beat her in Central by a good fifty years, but you know how it is… East Area has always been a bit slower with these kinds of developments.”
Edward was still not looking at him, but Alphonse had turned, his intense gaze meeting Jean’s in the rearview mirror. They had both noticed Edward flinch away from his little brother earlier, after the fall. Havoc was still chastising himself for his stupidity.
Yelling Edward’s name, while the boy had been busy taking the stairs! Stupid!
“And?”
“Well, she was a great woman. She got dishonorably discharged not three years later for building illegal bombs in her spare time, but by then the eastern forces were full of brave ladies following my Nana’s example. She went to Riefield to buy a general store – that’s when our business started – and met by Granddad while poaching some deer.”
“Why on earth are you telling me this story?”
“You see… she loved her homemade explosives so much, my Nana, she lost an arm when she was barely thirty, doing the math a bit wonky while mixing gunpowder.”
Now the chief was looking at him, golden coins burning a hole in the back of Jean’s head.
“Oh, so you think you can relate to me – tell me about your fucking grandma just because we’re both fucking amputees or what?” Edward spit, the rage not even somewhat covering the hurt and fear and pain.
“Brother!”
Jean ignored them both – Edward’s big emotions and Alphonse’s quiet despair.
“She was an awfully proud woman. Loved doing things on her own. And suddenly… she needed help. This was ten years before the first civilian would ever get access to automail. Not that we’d have had the money to try it even if it’d been an option. But, you know, my Nana… she didn’t ask for help. She just did things. And suddenly that was a whole lot harder.”
“Oh, so this is a lecture on how I should listen to my elders and ask for help. So original, thanks a lot, Havoc.”
Again, Jean ignored him, East City Central Station slowly growing closer. “I mean, I won’t complain if you suddenly start following orders, chief, but that’s not quite what I’m trying to say… because my Nana, she could do a lot of things on her own. And she learned to adapt to the things she couldn’t do no more. She still poached, and she still built a lot of dangerous bombs during her free time. She had seven kids, and eighteen grandchildren. A long marriage and a general store that is now the centerpiece of Riefield.”
“Good for her?” Alphonse asked carefully, unsure what Jean was trying to get at.
Yeah, he could understand why – life wasn’t always so straight forward.
“She wasn’t any less for losing her arm.”
“I know that! God, it’s as if people think I’m somehow new to the whole amputee thing. It’s been two years.”
“She wasn’t any less.” Havoc repeated. “But that arm was still gone. She couldn’t open jars, that was my granddad’s job for as long as I knew her. She had to yell at a lot of people because they touched her without her wanting to – and when she got angry, they often said they just wanted to help. She would have none of that. My Nana always said, if she needed someone to do something for her, she would ask, and until then people should take care of their own failed marriages and not her stew.”
“She sounds like a really great woman.” Alphonse said into the silence, Edward’s gaze just as burning as it had been minutes ago.
“She was! A real firecracker! But it was hard for her – people often thought they knew what was best for her… and worst of all, for a long time she had to prove to herself that she was worth it. Her own view of herself had changed when she lost that arm – she was different now. Still my Nana, but also someone new.”
“That’s a lot of moralizing bullshit from someone who doesn’t know what it actually feels like.”
Edward didn’t sound angry anymore, just tired.
Havoc nodded.
The boy was right after all.
They had reached the Station, Jean parking the car in front of the grand staircase leading into the building. He knew Ed could take the stairs, even with his bloody nose and bruised pride.
“That’s very true, chief. I just thought… it’s gonna be a lot easier to punch those assholes insulting you in the face, if you don’t believe them when they look at you in pity. You’re a real piece of work, chief, don’t let a mirror get you down – or the Colonel. I know he means well, but he doesn’t always understand.”
Both brothers looked at him, Alphonse with the eyes of someone much older, the helmet he always wore hiding his real expression from Jean, Edward with a frown on his face that betrayed nothing of his earlier anger – or the shame weighing him down.
“I really… I- it’s not that I think people who look at me when I’m like this are right, it’s just-“
Edward stumbled over his words, and yet Jean couldn’t be happier. He hadn’t thought the boy would actually respond. If anything, Jean had expected him to storm out of this car with the same amount of rage he had left Mustang’s office with.
“Yes?”
“I think… I think today was the first time I realized people look at me and see someone with- well, with prosthetics. It’s different when they look at me in anger or fear or awe because of my military title. That’s something I can be proud off… but my leg? That’s- it’s bad enough I can never forget how I lost it; I can’t deal with others seeing it too. Especially not when they treat me differently for it.”
Havoc didn’t have a high enough clearance to know what had happened to the Elrics that demanded the protection of an armor from Alphonse and two limbs from Edward, but he knew it had probably been pretty horrible.
“Brother, that’s not it-“
“I know. But I hate it. I hate it so much. I’m the fucking Fullmetal Alchemist, how dare they pity me for a mistake I made. That’s my sin. My past. My fucking amputated leg.”
“You know what, chief? Take that anger and run with it.”
“What?”
“I think… earlier, you were angry at the world, right? Everyone was staring and… yeah. You yelled but it didn’t help. It was just… if you excuse my words, a temper tantrum at the unfairness of everything. But this right now? That’s pride. That’s a… well, that’s my Nana saying people should take care of their own bullshit. So, take that anger and run with it.”
Another silence, another car honking at them for occupying a parking space in front of the train station.
“Sure.” Edward finally said, his crutch firmly placed in his right hand. Another piece of automail, another secret Havoc wasn’t privy to. “We should get going.”
And they did.
Havoc watched them disappear in the station building, Alphonse always a solid step behind Edward, as he hopped up the stairs, and thought to himself, yeah, these boys will turn out okay. Maybe it had been the right piece of advice, maybe the wrong one, Jean didn’t know, but something told him that Edward would grow up to prove them all wrong.
About what?
Jean had no fucking clue.