Work Text:
It was late. The sun just touched down over the horizon, painting the sky in reds and oranges as the starry night crept in through the countryside.
Pinako and Winry were cleaning the kitchen in a sort-of-companionable quiet. Winry had been told not to pout, so she wasn't, but they were only cleaning so late because their dinner had been late. And their dinner had only been late because Ed and Al never showed, even though Winry invited them. Pinako tried to reassure her that the boys were the distracted type, but Winry knew that already. She just… she’d just hoped to see proof that she was still important to them, after all that time they’d spent away with that alchemy teacher in Dublith. That they hadn't forgotten her, and Granny, and Den.
Den began to bark from outside, high and sharp. Winry groaned, opened her mouth to call her. But she began to hear something else, too. Banging, maybe. Something metal, crashing together near-rhythmically.
“Do you hear that?” She asked instead, frowning over at her grandmother.
Pinako picked at her ear. "Hm? That infernal banging?” She squinted out the darkened window, grumbling about Den, about her eyesight, about her back.
The banging grew louder, its pace uneven and stumbling. It was definitely something metal, and Winry exchanged a glance with her Granny before she opened the front door, peering more properly outside. Den, on her leash, was straining, short hair standing on end, barks tearing from her throat.
And there, coming up the path, there was a man in a suit of armour. The sight was so strange, Winry could only blink. Then he surged forward into the house’s lantern-light and she saw the blood. It followed every curve of his armour-plates, coated his arms, his chest. It was all coming from the tiny thing bundled in his arms. It was a body. A familiar body. “Ed!” Winry shrieked.
The massive man fell to his knees in the doorway with a resounding crash, drowning out Winry’s scream, Den’s furious barks. And there was Ed, held out before her. There was so little of him there, he was completely blood-soaked, gore spilling and pooling from him. His arm… his leg…
Pinako was pushing past her, cursing between every breath. Winry was jolted back to reality by her Granny’s command. “Help me lift him, Winry, now!”
She didn't have time to think. They got to work.
---
It took hours. Winry was dizzy and cold from the blood draw, but she would have gladly given liters more if it meant Ed would be okay. Pinako’s final verdict nearly made her pass out on the spot. “Stable.” Granny’s voice betrayed exhaustion, relief and concern in equal measure. Winry had seen the wounds. They were like nothing she had ever seen, the edges of the skin torn in perfect little dithering squares. There hadn't been enough to close, Pinako had had to shorten each residual limb by no small degree.
Both of them knew it had something to do with alchemy. Neither of them missed that Alphonse’s whereabouts were unknown. It was too much to consider.
Den was scratching on the door, so Winry stumbled to it, letting her in. Winry’s hands unclasped her from the line, numb as she stared at the figure that Den ran past, bolting into the house like she was on fire.
It was the man in the armour. Hours had passed, but he hadn’t moved an inch. The blood splattered over him was long-dry now, rusty and flaking. Winry stared, some part of her certain she was looking at an automaton, one of Ed’s alchemical toys brought to moving reality.
She chose not to let fear hold her throat. “Thank you for bringing Ed to us,” She bowed her head, bangs falling in her face. “He’s gonna be okay, so thank you-” Emotion brought embarrassing tears to choke her, blur her vision.
When she looked up, she almost thought she saw something red, glowing distantly from behind the eyeholes of the man’s helmet.
He moved, which startled her, a giant hand coming up to touch one of the blood-soaked spots of his chestplate. He didn't say anything, didn't even nod.
Politeness rose in Winry, an impossible impulse. “Do you-?” She swallowed. “Do you want to come in? We have supplies to clean your… your armour, if you want. And- and food, we have leftovers from dinner, if- if you’re hungry?” Her voice sounded helpless, even to her own ears. She stepped back, holding the door open in as clear an invitation as she could manage.
The man levered himself to his feet, rising and rising until he stood. He must have been nearly double her height, enough that he had to duck to get through the doorframe. He clasped his gauntlets together clumsily, and when he shuffled forward, his posture was rather meek for someone dressed so intimidatingly.
“I’ll uh…” She looked up at him, her neck craning. “I’ll show you to the washroom?” It was a strange thing to notice, she thought, as she led the stranger down the hall. The armour didn't move very well. Every hinge shrieked and screeched with his steps, it was as if he’d been neglecting maintenance of it for some time. She would have thought that someone who would wear that sort of thing would have taken better care of it. The thought niggled at her, but she didn't voice it. It would be rather rude.
They passed by the closed infirmary door, and the man’s head turned towards it with a creak. Winry didn't say anything, and neither did he.
She led him to the bathroom and watched him enter. Her voice sounded weak. “Just let me know if you need anything.” She shut the door behind him. He did not come back out.
---
His throat was dry. Ed spent a few long empty seconds blinking up at the ceiling before his thoughts dragged together enough to realize he was alive. He was awake and he was alive. Horror and pain warred as the events he had just lived through (events he had just caused), flashed through his mind. None of it mattered, none of it mattered because: “Alphonse!” His brother’s name tore from his shredded throat, and Ed bucked against the blankets. He needed to see his brother, where was Al, where-
Pinako’s frown swam into view, her cool hands holding him steadily. “Calm down, squirt. You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re not helping your brother if you go and pass out again.”
Edward sucked in breaths, as deep as he could manage, forcing his mind out of hysteria and into something workable. “Granny,” he breathed, his eyes finding focus on her face. “I- we failed, we-” The sudden urge to cry found him, his stomach dropped to the center of the earth.
Pinako growled. “If you weren't so close to death I would have killed you myself, brat. I’ve told you before this alchemy business was only going to get you hurt,” Her hands stayed gentle despite her words. Stern, near-resigned, she asked: “Where’s your brother, Ed?”
Edward felt his eyes burn from growing too wide. “I don’t- I had to-” He choked, head feeling distant, far-too-fuzzy. “I can fix it. I swear I’ll fix it. I put him… in a suit of armour.”
—
Pinako slammed open the bathroom door. The bloody armour was slumped against the wall opposing the mirror, its helmet laying haphazardly on the floor. It was empty. Pinako peered around the bathroom with a critical eye. "You in here, Al?"
The armour moved. Pinako jolted, a hand over her heart. One of its gauntlets reached out towards her, then pulled back and crashed with a fumble into the armour's chestplate. Slowly, Pinako picked up the helmet and placed it over the hole, covering the emptiness within it. "Alphonse." She said, far quieter than she meant to.
A red light came to life inside the holes of the eyes. Pinako searched it for signs of the young boy she had last seen, only yesterday. There was no gold here. Nothing soft, sweet or gentle. Slowly, it nodded. Alphonse nodded.
Pinako closed off her emotions, pushing down the horror, the nausea. "Let me clean that blood off you, boy." She said, low, gruff. And Pinako set to work scrubbing the metal of dried blood, of Edward’s blood. The task detached her from the reality of Ed, missing two limbs in the other room, and young Al, all but gone. She was used to cleaning metal parts, and soon the armour was free of grime, if in need of oiling.
She offered a hand for Al to take, after it was all done. She intended to lead him to see his brother, she intended to comfort him, somehow. His gauntlets shook and rattled, and he refused to touch her. Pinako looked away. “Edward’s been asking for you, we should visit him.”
She opened the infirmary door, Winry and Ed looked over in unison. Winry’s eyes sharpened, but Ed’s stayed unfocused, the drugs holding his focus away. Even still, he reached for the armour, as it stumbled into the room after her, reached hard enough that Winry had to hold him still again.
“Al… Al, it’s really you. You’re here!” Ed was breathing shakily, smiling, somehow, as if it was the last thing he had left.
The armour shook, rattling distantly, then lowered its head. There was no body language to read that wasn't telegraphed, no tension in his shoulders, no expression. Alphonse, trapped as a ghost in empty steel, brought two clumsy hands up to where his mouth should have been. Where Pinako had seen nothing but empty air.
With two hands, he covered it. Brought them down, then up again. Metal groaned with the movement.
It should have been obvious, that silence where Al’s voice was supposed to be. Winry’s expression was empty, as numb as anything.
Ed’s broke. He somehow looked even smaller, shrunk beneath the bandages and blankets and tubes. “Shit! Shit- I- Al, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry-!”
It was the only sound in the room for a long time.