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It had been too, too long.
For Edward, it wasn’t something he was initially worried about when he went missing, nursed back to health with the aid of the two chimera men. He couldn’t have known how long it would take for him to meet back up with his brother, so as each month passed the worry grew from a whisper at the back of his mind to that of a waking nightmare.
He n e e d e d to see Alphonse again soon, or else- or else-
For Alphonse, it wasn’t something he worried about until his fainting got worse and worse. He continued to tell everyone around him a lie, that his body was calling him back, and well, they believed it. It wasn’t too far from the truth, really. Just, it was a misrepresentation of the problem.
The blood seal, the one drawn in Edward’s blood, within the armor of Alphonse’s temporary body, was not immune to the elements. Not immune to temperature, to friction, or to time itself.
It faded over time.
Before, this wasn’t much of an issue. Edward was always at Alphonse’s side, thus all he needed to do to strengthen the seal was to take his blood again and gently draw over the seal.
But for months on end Edward wasn’t there and no one knew where he was.
In his most worried state, Alphonse had contemplated telling Winry, suggesting that maybe she try and apply her blood to the seal, but he knew, he was smart, that it wouldn’t work. That it needed to be Ed’s blood. It was the thought, though, that gave him some comfort.
All this to say, as soon as the two were reunited and had a moment to themselves, their relief was unmatched. Not just that the other had survived all this time, but that they’d found each other in time to fix the seal.
Huddled together in the privacy of a tent, after that of a long and draining fight with Pride and Gluttony, the brothers went to work to fix the seal.
“Do you have a-” Alphonse asked, sitting in front of Edward on the dirt ground.
“Always.” Ed replied, exhausted and relieved, pulling out a wrapped up cloth from his jacket, sitting on his knees before his brother.
As Edward unwrapped the cloth, he glanced up to Al. “You gonna remove your-”
“Oh! Right!” Alphonse seemed in a daze for a moment, nodding his helmet and turned his attention away from his brother and to his own chest piece.
While Alphonse unlatched the front of his metal chest, Edward uncovered the object wrapped in cloth. A small knife. It was sharp, kept clean and polished to ensure the safety of the action it performed. The metal shined in the bits of light peeking through the corners of the tent walls, the handle made of wood, carved into it a tree of life.
Edward heard the clank of metal as Alphonse placed the opening of his chest aside on the ground beside them, and removed the helmet used as his head, to give his brother the best view of the blood seal.
Ed held back the intense wave of anxiousness that fell over him as his eyes locked onto the seal. It had faded more than he’d ever seen it do so before. He could see small flakes of blood threatening to peel off, the color of the seal dimmed and washed out. No wonder his brother was struggling to stay connected to the living world, to his metal body. Struggling to fight, to pay attention, to stay conscious. The seal was weakened. Weak.
But his anxiousness was nothing compared to the guilt. He’d failed his brother time and time again, and the seal was the one thing he was supposed to take care of, was his motivation for all of his actions in the last few years, and here he was not taking care of it.
Alphonse wouldn’t be able to get his real body back if Edward stopped caring for it. For him.
“Don’t.” Alphonse’s voice brought Ed back out of his trance of emotions.
“Don’t what?” Ed asked, confused.
“You’re about to say ‘i’m sorry’ again.” Alphonse would be frowning if he could. “I’ve told you time and time again that this is my fault too, brother.”
Ed cleared his throat. They have this conversation each and every time, he couldn’t blame Alphonse for thinking it was getting old. But this time Ed didn’t want to say ‘i’m sorry’ because the seal was there in the first place, but because the seal was in such poor condition. That was why he was sorry.
“Doesn’t make me any less apologetic.” Ed said, quietly. “...I’m sorry.”
He said it anyway, and he would say it again and again until the boy got his body back.
Alphonse didn’t reply, so Ed looked down at the knife in his hand. He let the cloth around it fall to his lap, and he took the knife in his automail hand, and held it above his flesh hand. Letting go of a breath he was holding in, he pressed the sharp blade down to his skin, and increased the pressure til it cut.
The two of them watched as blood began to swell around the knife’s edges. Watched as the blade was pulled across the skin, until a line of fresh blood pooled in the palm of Ed’s hand. It didn’t escape Al’s notice that his brother’s hand shook, and that he was holding back and hiding the pain he felt. He always did this.
Ed set the knife down onto the cloth, the blood on it staining the fabric below, the faint outlines of old blood stains decorating the cloth. It soon would be washed, but it would never go away.
“Okay.” Ed held out his flesh hand, and adjusted so that he could reach Al’s seal better. “Hold still for me.”
“Okay.”
Ed had to be careful doing this. He had to be perfect in his application of the blood, had to make sure he wasn’t distracted or off center or anything else. He also needed to use his flesh hand, the one that he just cut, and the one that was shaking. He couldn’t use his metal hand, for the metal fingers would not hold the blood well enough, nor would it apply the blood well, and it would scratch Al’s armor, and thus his seal. It was the reason he could not leave blood for Al to apply the seal himself, for his hands were metal, and too big.
Ed curled his fingers in on themselves, into his palm, in a fist, and then relaxed, his fingers coated in blood. He then reached out, his index finger pointed at Al’s seal. He held it there, hovering just above, for a few seconds, steadying his own breath and his shake.
Then his finger touched the blood to the seal, and slowly Ed retraced over it. As he did so, he kept himself from straying off the seal below, he kept himself focused, blinded himself from any other outside distractions, from the world outside the tent. Life was nothing but Alphonse. The only thing in the world was Alphonse.
The tip of his finger didn’t touch the seal itself, dragged but a millimeter off the surface, just enough to let the blood touch the seal, and to drag the blood along it’s path. He didn’t press his finger down onto the metal, in fear of removing the seal below, which was not what he was doing. He only wanted to strengthen it. Don't get dirt on it, don't get the oils of your skin on it, don't contaminate, don't destroy-
Alphonse always got eerily quiet when he did this, and Ed tried not to worry about it. Ed never really noticed how Alphonse didn’t breathe air in and out through lungs until this moment, for the lack of any proved uncanny. He knew that Alphonse was being silent and still for him, but what if Ed messed up the seal? How would he know? Would Al have time to panic before- before anything-
Ed stopped thinking about that. Instead he watched his own hand intently, following the seal in the same manner it was drawn, all those years ago. He ignored the still fresh wound on his palm, blood dripping down onto the metal below the seal, and the small jolts of pain from the nerves inside his hand.
He heard the drip drop of red landing against Al, and felt his eye twitch, and he tried hard not to think about-
about-
(His hand, his younger self, reached out, but it was the other hand, and it wasn’t gone yet, and there was screaming, his screaming, and pain, immense pain, no pain a child should ever go through, and he was drawing something on metal. He could hardly see it but he didn’t need to because he knew the seal already, and despite his tears his adrenaline was carrying him, and then there was a glow, and even more pain, Oh god so much pain, and then his hand disappeared into- into something, nothingness?, and then- and then-)
“Brother.”
Ed blinked a few times, realizing he’d stopped tracing the seal.
“Do you need a break?” Al asked.
Ed did not notice the tear that fell from his face, but Al did.
It was hard to face one’s own sin.
A reply stopped dead in his throat, Ed deciding instead to shake his head no. He focused himself again, upset that he’d lost focus so quickly. Hadn’t even noticed he’d done it. Hated himself for it, how easily he could’ve messed up Al’s seal, and then where would they be?
He was an awful brother, he thought.
Ed curled back his fingers into the bleeding wound, recoating them, and then continued where he left off.
He did not let his mind wonder again, and as soon as he’d begun, he’d finished.
“There.” Ed relaxed, after pulling his hand away from drawing the hook in the middle of Al’s seal.
Despite how nervous and intense the moment always was, it always ended faster than he thought it would.
Ed leaned back, watching Al pick his helmet back up and attach it to his armor. “How do you feel?”
Al hummed, and any noise he made instantly made Ed feel better.
“Much better!” Al answered, and Ed could hear the smile in his voice.
Ed felt himself smile, looking back down at the cut in his hand, taking the cloth on his thigh and using it to soak the blood.
“Good.” Ed watched Al fiddle with his chest piece, and reached out a hand to stop him. “Hold on.”
Ed took a corner of the blood soaked cloth, a corner that wasn’t red, and used it to wipe off the blood that had dripped down from his palm onto Al’s armor, several inches under the seal. Ed was careful and gentle with it, minding the space around the seal, and checking it one more time before Al sealed himself up again.
When he was finished, Al latched the front of his chest back in place, hiding the blood seal back in darkness.
Ed shoved the knife into the cloth, standing up on his feet with a bit of metal creaking from his automail leg. It hurts to sit like that after a while.
“I need to clean the wound before it gets infected.” Ed said.
Al stood up, almost too tall for the tent they were in.
“I can get you water, brother.” Al said, motioning for his brother to sit.
Ed hesitated, he’d been here at this camp longer than Al had, he'd know better where to get clean water, but he relented. Ed wasn’t one to want to show off his wound and he was sure someone would ask him about it. Would want a reason for his injury before giving him first aid. Plus, Hohenheim was here, and so was Greed, and those chimera men, and he didn’t want any of them to see him like this. Only Al. No one else even knew he had to do this.
Al left the tent, off to get him what he needed to clean his wound, leaving Ed to sit there, in the dark of the tent, alone.
Ed stared down at his hands. At the automail fingers. At the flesh fingers. At the wires in one, and the blood seeping from the other.
Hopefully, this would be the last time they would need to do this.
Hopefully, soon, Al will have his body back.
And then the only sin Ed would need to face again and again was the sin he’d paid for in the form of his leg.