Chapter Text
Equivalent exchange is the foundation of alchemy.
It’s so widely known that even non-alchemists are aware of the dictum, though not of its inner workings. As children, Ed and Al had foolishly believed they understood the extent of it, playing God and hoping to bring their mother back.
In their hubris, they left the scales unbalanced. Truth took the price for a human soul in blood and limbs and Al’s body. Even so, they’d only been given that Thing in return, a mass of bones and blood and far from the kind eyes and warm smiles of their mother.
Head splitting open, bleeding and sobbing on hardwood, Ed finally understood equivalent exchange. He’d do anything not to.
“Hydrogen. Helium. Lithium. Beryllium.”
“Shut up.”
“Boron. Carbon. Nitrogen. Oxygen.”
A crack sounds and Ed’s head turns with the force of the slap, cheek going from numb to burning. His jaw clicks shut and he stubbornly does not let tears well up. Equivalent exchange. This is the price Ed has to pay.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, that feels wrong, but Ed ignores it—ignores it along with the foul smell of Mr. Hall’s breath, the rough sheets below him, the hands around his wrists that will surely bruise and the incessant pulsing agony in his—
Fluorine. Neon. Sodium. Magnesium.
Really, this is his own fault, Ed thinks from somewhere three feet and to the left of his body. It was stupid to not think about what would happen after Mom died and the bastard left. He’d assumed Granny and Winry would take them in, and they did, to an extent, but Granny has patients and clients and Winry is learning from her and wrapped up in medical texts ever since the news of her parents’ deaths arrived in Resembool and Ed and Al have their noses stuffed in their father’s alchemy texts, hoping for a glimpse into the secret of human transmutation and—
The point is that Ed and Alphonse are left in that house, in their father’s study, playing unsupervised by the river and in the woods, and journeying into the town market with the money Granny can spare to buy food and necessities. This worked for a few months before Al got sick and Granny was busy and it was up to Ed as the big brother to take care of Al. But Al only got worse and Ed started thinking that he should go and buy medicine, so he left Al under the care of Winry and walked into town with the meager change he had saved up.
“Sorry kid, but that’s not enough.” What.
“You don’t understand. My brother is sick and I really need this medicine, so just give it to me and I’ll pay you back later. I promise.” Ed was ready to start growling and scratching the shopkeeper if that’s what it took to get that goddamn medicine.
“That’s not how it works, kid. Come back with your parents and they’ll have the money. I’ll even wait.” This idiot seemed to even think he was doing Ed a favor, saying that. The market bustled around them and this asshole standing behind the counter was refusing to give Ed medicine that Al really needed and he had the gall to tell Ed to come back with his parents?
“My parents are dead. It’s just me and my brother.” Ed deadpanned, giving the shopkeeper his best Are you dumb? look.
“Ah.” The man seemed caught out, momentarily awkward, before his eyes lit up in realization. “You’re Edward, aren’t you? Trisha’s boy. And the brother is Alphonse, I’m guessing?”
Ed nodded, surly and glaring.
“You should have said so! I’d do anything for Trisha’s boys. We all loved her. I was sorry to hear of her passing.” Ed rolled his eyes, tired of the same song and dance whenever people realized whose sons they were talking to.
“Yeah, yeah. Are you gonna give me the medicine or not?” Ed bit out, done with this stupid conversation.
“I’ll give it to you, but… I’m a working man, Ed. And I’ve got a wife and kid of my own to support. So, I do need you to pay me. But it seems like you’re a little low on funds and I’d hate to take money from you poor boys. What do you say to a compromise?” The man started smiling, leaning his forearms on the counter to look more directly down at Ed. He should have run. He should have seen the edge to that smile and the darkness in those eyes and run as fast as he could.
Instead, Ed looked back.
“What type of compromise?” He asked, wary and distrusting at the man’s sudden change in mood.
“Nothing big, just a bit of equivalent exchange. You boys like alchemy, right? So you should know what that means. I give you what you want and you give me what I want.” The man was nonchalant, but his voice was hushed. It sent unease down Ed’s spine, but he reasoned it away. He probably just didn’t want others to know he was letting Ed off without paying—well, paying money.
Ed narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists so he wouldn’t correct the man and lecture him on what equivalent exchange actually meant. He took a breath and let it out. Held out his hand. “That sounds reasonable—” he searched his memory for the man’s name— “Mr. Hall.” The man chuckled and shook the offered hand.
“Good doing business with ya, Edward. I’ll pop by your house with the medicine once my shop closes for the day and take my payment then.”
Ed nodded and turned around to leave, but the man’s voice stopped him.
“And Edward? You can call me Bill. No need for that Mr. Hall nonsense.” Internally, Ed decided that Bill was a stupid name and if they were going to be in business with each other, he should keep calling the man Mr. Hall.
Ed headed back to Granny’s house and checked on Alphonse, whose fever was even worse than that morning. Mr. Hall seemed sketchy, but Ed really needed that medicine. Al needed that medicine.
That night, Mr. Hall delivered the medicine to Ed, who brought it straight to Granny before returning back to his house at the man’s request. He said he wanted to talk business. Talk equivalent exchange.
That night, and many nights thereafter, Ed thought maybe the man did understand equivalent exchange. Mr. Hall’s medicine saved Al’s life and he seemed intent on taking Ed’s soul in return.
Some months later, two limbs down and Truth shining behind his eyes, Ed decided Mr. Hall and his idea of equivalent exchange was bullshit. Al never found out about Mr. Hall. Neither did Granny and Winry. They know something is wrong, that he can’t stand touch and his temper is on a thin wire and that he will start breathing too quick if you call him Eddie, but they don’t know. Ed likes it that way.
Sure, sometimes he’s jealous of Alphonse’s unfeeling metal body and sometimes he wakes up from nightmares that leave him sweaty and ashamed of himself, and maybe it would be nice to be held, to cry, to scream, but he’s fine.
Ed is fine.