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Lucius’ hand gently patted the back of Ed’s head, just once, before leaving and returning to press gauze against the cut. Their fingers brushed as Ed brought his hand up to secure the gauze in place, raising his head from the table. Lucius’ hand retreated from his head. After the past hour being spent with him delicately manoeuvring the annals of Ed’s skull, the act instantly felt like an absence.
To think, that Ed missed the experience of receiving brain surgery fully conscious—but it was so different, the way Lucius did it. When Strange had him opened and propped up, unable to twitch or blink or wrench away, he'd burrowed between Ed's grey matter like a tapeworm and made himself at home. With Lucius, there was a delicateness in the way he'd extracted the chip, like he hadn’t wanted to cause Ed pain. Like that even mattered.
Which was why, when it was all said and done, Ed found it in himself to say, with uncharacteristic sincerity, "Thank you, Lucius."
He wasn't supposed to be here with these annoying do-gooders—and Barbara. He was the odd one out, a coincidental tag-along that no one wanted. He skulked in the corner, arms clutching one another to keep himself from scratching at the burning itch at the back of his head. Strange had left the back of his head tangled and matted with blood. Some of the blood was still congealed around clumps of stringy hair against his nape. It felt like hell dragging across his skin.
Meanwhile, the others continued their conversation—he paid them little mind. He’s been left out of things his whole life, and this was no different. It was a small blessing anyway, as he was far too twitchy and uncomfortable to follow along with a conversation, stuck in this room with people who hated him. At least the chip was gone. He’d return to the regular, day-to-day disorientation of his life, rather than the one enforced on him since the fall of the bridges.
“Is something the matter with your stitches?”
Lucius was suddenly standing before him. His gloves had been removed since the surgery. Confused, Ed squinted at him, before realising that his nails were digging into the back of his head, scratching vigorously. He dropped the hand.
“No.”
Brow furrowed, Lucius glanced down and Ed followed his line of sight. Blood caked Ed’s nail beds, flaking down his fingers in a brownish, dry spatter. Lucius took a swift step around Ed to take a look at the back of his head, ignoring Ed’s protests. When Ed tried to whirl back around, firm, gentle hands came up to hold the sides of his head, keeping him in place and tilting him this way and that. Ed grunted and finally managed to swat him away, turning to face him with a grimace.
“That’s not from the surgery—I mean, it’s not from you.” He shifted, a little bashful. “The blood was already there.”
“I had noticed some blood on your neck during the surgery, but it didn’t seem fresh enough to come from the incision.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t exactly had the chance to clean up, have I? Too busy running around like a puppet—”
Before Ed could work himself up, Lucius spoke.
“I could help,” he said, voice cool as a fresh spring. “Clean up, I mean.”
At Ed’s hesitation, he gave a gentle scoff.
“You’d allow me to perform impromptu brain surgery, but you draw the line at washing your hair?”
There wasn't much he could say to that, and the next thing he knew he was giving a relenting nod and watching Lucius's face soften into a victorious smile.
Through his place of importance at the GCPD headquarters, Lucius had it arranged that Ed had access to the water he needed to clean himself up. The library had a bathroom, but no running water. It didn't seem a good idea for Ed to be brought into the GCPD building, and so Lucius filled a container with water and carried it himself to the library, aided by a called-in favour resulting in a lift from Gordon himself. With it, Lucius had also brought toiletries, clothes, and the tools necessary to rectify the mess that was Ed's hair.
After his time alone in the bathroom with the water and a sponge, Ed sighed with something close to satisfaction. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had something like soap or shampoo, and although the resources were meagre, he felt entirely renewed by the time he was done. His clothes were drying from a wash of their own, and he was now dressed in a set of muted, loose clothes—unfamiliar, but notably large enough to comfortably fit his tall frame. Edward noted that the top Lucius had chosen for him was a de-saturated green, the detail easy to miss but unmistakable once identified.
Feeling awkward and satiated at the same time, Edward sat in front of Lucius in one of the library chairs. His head was stooped to let his hair fall over his eyes, covering his uncertain expression. In his search for toiletries, Lucius had also managed to locate a comb and a pair of scissors suited for the job.
As Lucius got to work, Ed braced himself for the pain of the comb tugging at his knots—but Lucius held the hair in his hand, placing it between Ed's roots and the comb to circumvent the pain. It was when Lucius produced the scissors and all Ed could hear was the gentle, quiet snip-snip next to his ear that he realised not once had he feared that Lucius's hand would slip. It was the first time since he could remember that he'd known someone meant him no harm.
His eyes grew warm, and he tried to tilt his head down, but Lucius corrected him with finger pads placed at his temples, tilting his head back into position so he could keep the length of his hair even. Edward sniffed and brushed the backs of his knuckles across his face to hide a stray tear, hoping he was giving the impression that he'd simply been tickled by a falling strand of hair.
"There," Lucius said eventually, brushing the back of Ed's neck with an airy touch. "Have a look."
Ed stood, keeping his back to Lucius as he regained himself. The library mirror was still shattered, but it was just whole enough for Ed to see himself. When he crossed the room to see his reflection, it struck him that Lucius had returned him to how Ed had looked at the GCPD—lacking the product, but matching in its length. His eyes were tinted pink. His blinks became rapid. Unable to turn, he met the man’s eyes in the mirror.
"Thank you, Lucius."